Lyndhurst,
Clifton Gardens,
Folkestone,
January 23rd. 1916.

My dear, darling, Ferne:

Here I am sitting in a quiet hotel in dear old England again, but worse luck sitting quite alone, with no one to slip over the arm of my chair with her dear hands in my hair and share the splendid warmth of the big open fire place with me.

As you of course know by now I had hoped to be able to arrange my leave so that I could have you with me, but according to Colonel Allen, leave will likely be cut off at any time, and I couldn’t be sure of getting it at all if I let it slip. Further he was almost insistent on my coming over for a change, so I thought it best to do so, and trust to good luck and a fair wind to blow me along another leave about - let me see - it will be the middle of April at best. Of course if it comes then, dearest, it will be just as we would have wished it, eh! But as I pointed out to you before, there is always the chance - long odds at that - that something will start then and our leave he stopped for several months. It is almost impossible to rely on anything much in this game between April and the end of September.

If it so happens, dear girl, that we can’t arrange it for this Spring, don’t get blue please. It may be all for the best, for after the early summer months, if things go on as we expect out here, the situation should be considerably clearer and we can see better just where we stand. You can understand, I know, a certain reluctance on my part to bring you out here in the spring, live with you for six short days and then rush away to - well no man knows except that the chances are against a whole skin at the end of it!

Don’t think for a minute, dearest, that it is only because I know you want to come - I want to see you again so badly that it hurts sometimes to think that I have to go back to it all again without a kiss from your lips, and a brave smile from your eyes, but there are a good many hurts that one has to put up with as well as possible in these times, n’est ce pas? However, let us look forward to April and if not April, then perhaps some time in July or August. I shall pull out from somewhere near the Rhine and rush over to meet you.

I am so sorry about Olive's letter. I did write to her, but it was two or three weeks after her letter arrived, and then I didn’t get the name of their house quite right, as the letter had been lost in the meanwhile. I think it more than likely though that it arrived safely just about the end of the year, if I remember rightly. I am going up to London to-night for a couple of days and intend to make an effort to see her, as I believe Chelmsford is only a few miles out of London. Perhaps we shall see each other again at her place! As to Stanley’s letter, I dont think it ever arrived, so I had better write anyhow and tell them how pleased and honoured I am. Of course you told them it was alright. I certainly wasn’t likely to spurn the lovely infant.

About your ring for me, little pet, of course it is absolutely splendid of you, and I can get the ring here if you wish it, but can’t get the crest put on until I get home and hunt the old original seal out of the family strong box. I dont think it will be registered in the College of Heraldry here, or I could look it up of course.

I left France, that is Left the Front on the night of the 17th. and travelled all night to Boulonge, unfortunately alone, as George could not get away with me. On arrival at Boulonge I got roped in to take one party of the leave men up to camp and in doing so missed the 12-15 boat which carried officers. It turned out to be the last to leave for two days, as some enemy craft got loose in the Channel and started to spread mines and things about. So we had to hand about the old port and drink French wines and brush my the lingo while the Admiralty people popped out to see what the row was for. When finally we did get off, two boat loads of us, a French auxiliary and a British submarine escorted us across. And my Gad, it was rough as only the Channel can be rough, and poor Errol was pretty uncomfortable. Of course I haven’t been well for about three weeks now with throat trouble and nausea, and wasn’t feeling just in shape to stand the racket.

On Folkestone Pier we found two or three English Battalions waiting to embark, and also His Highness the Prince of Wales returning to the front from leave. The new army men, judging from the look of these chaps are of the very finest physique and look the part at least. There isn’t the wild enthusiasm about departing troops now as there used to be, but they have a very cheerful, damn them to Hell sort of look, which is most encouraging.

The first people I met were Mrs. Grassett and Gipsy, who nearly dropped dead with astonishment, as they were just reading about me in a letter from Sidney who had dinner with us a few nights before. Then I went into the Lyndhurst and Eleanor threw her arms around me and kissed me before the whole room full, and of course wanted to know all about George in two breaths and a gasp. Poor girl she is so devoted to him and her father in spite of her light airy style and frivolous tastes. They all marvelled at my extraordinary cleanliness and healthy look which helped to dissapate the green tinge which the Channel had given all the surroundings. Eleanor persuaded me to stay here until to-night and have a good rest, so I have just been kicking about for three days looking up old friends.

It is remarkable how the crowd has changed in three months. Most of the officers one sees about now are total strangers and must have arrived since I left. I saw Dick Harcourt and Norman Smallpiece who are here from Bramshott at the Military School and then took the train out to Sandling to have a look at the old crowd. And sure enough there they all were, sitting in one room cursing the fates which held them at home. Crawford, Ardagh, Willis, Percy Band, Watt Creighton et al. Had dinner with them and was effusively greeted by the Colonel, half tight as usual. Great place the 23rd. The idea of it is that in a couple of months they get you so sick of the place that war looks like a fair mistress indeed.

Yesterday morning Jack and I went up to interview Headquarters together and I think I managed to get him off for the front within a couple of weeks; told the reinforcing officer how badly we wanted him etc. etc. You know the line of stuff I can put up sometimes!

In the afternoon I drifted over to the Dansante at the Grand but had a fearful panic at the thought of dancing and fled from the place in a horrible funk. Eleanor was quite annoyed but I couldn’t get my nerve up to try the old trot again after spluttering in muddy trenches for three months.

In the evening I had dinner with Mrs. Basil Wedd and Mrs. Sandford Smith who have a very cosy dugout in Clifton Crescent. They were both charming and we had a jolly time. Colonel Smith you know is O.C. 4th. C.M.R. and a well known Toronto huntsman, and of course our Basil, late of the Epiphany Choir, now General Staff Officer 3rd. Grade, 3rd. Division Staff, cannot be unknown to you. His wife was Nora Van Nostrand of Toronto and Berlin.

This morning Mr. Mac. and Eleanor are at church, and here I are epistolizing, what!

Well dearest, my darling sweetheart, how I want you with me “just to fuss around with” as Ike Robertson has it, but I suppose I must go to London alone.

Am meeting Jack Harman at the Automobile Club for lunch to-morrow. Shades of Hanlan’s Point! I shall write you again from London.

Just now I must stop and write to someone at home.

Yours ever so longingly,

ERROL.