I got a letter from you yesterday. May yours be a Happy Christmas. I’d like to be in sunny Australia for Christmas but maybe next time, all being well.
It seems a thousand years since I left and I’ve seen no finer land. France is pretty but the summer doesn’t last long enough and isn’t very warm while it does except when the Hun warms it up and then it’s hot enough for anyone. Still we us and company can make it warm for them and much better seeing towns smashed up here than at home. When this job is over our own homes will not be smashed up – even though many sons have been taken but some will go back and I think I’ll be among them. I am a lucky boy.
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