T. E. Lawrence to S. L. Newcombe

13 Birmingham St.
Southampton

Wednesday
[? 17 April 1934]

Dear Object,

You have caught me in a bad week. I don't think I can get there on Thursday (tomorrow) anyhow. There is a boat job fixed for that day. If it fizzles I shall try to snatch my bike and run over - and it would be latish afternoon... fourish or fivish... but it is so unlikely that I beg of you to go for a walk instead. Not that there are many walks in Bournemouth, but if you take a bus first, it can be managed.

Failing Thursday (and almost certainly we fail on Thursday) then there remains Saturday. Saturday is much more probable. I shall try to get there soon after lunch, about twoish.

Never heard of glandular fever. Probably you wish you hadn't. I expect I've had it, and never knew it.

These modern doctors are getting so clever that hardly any body of their clients is ever well.

Ice cream sounds like a good diet. Could you mix them, or did they give you that plain stuff that doesn't taste, except of frozen snow? Otherwise you could have walked into a Lyons and amazed the girl by going completely through the Sundae list.

Well... improbably Thursday... probably Saturday: store up a great packet of cheerfulness for me, as I am feeling very fat and ugly.

Yours

T.E.S.

Note. S. L. Newcombe, then aged 14, Stewart Newcombe's son.