T. E. Lawrence to Clare Sydney Smith

13, Birmingham Street,
Southampton.

Tuesday, 1.VIII.33.

Ha now, this is urgent. I am to visit Lympne on Friday next, for lunch (and when I lunches, as you will remember from Batten, I usually stays the night) and on Sunday I am back in Wiltshire: but Thursday night:- where are you and the G/C on Thursday night? If it is Manston may I arrive to lunch on Thursday? Full house perhaps...?

Then shake me down with Egbert and Ethelfleda, or reserve a Macdonald in a hut. It really is a chance, perhaps my last. I am so nailed into Southampton Water by these jobs : up and down all day and all week : that's me.

And congratulate Squeak - beg her pardon - Miss Smith. Facing me on Cowes Pier, each time I embark, is a poster illustrating Ramsgate. Squeak is the illustrious one, in a green bathing costume, looking a little chilled about the elbows which are firmly driven into her... ribs, I think it is. There or thereabouts.

Congratulate her and it is exactly the spot of colour needed for the end wall of the big room by the dining-room door. Too late, alas, too late. Singapore and the shadow of a palm tree there. Alas, poor Leo.

Here is a form: please wire yes or not-so-good. 13, Birmingham Street is me, for a while yet.

Yours,

T.E.S.
 

Note
Macdonald - airman's bed