Dec. 1 1916

Dear Mother,

Just a few lines to-day. I got my first leave, and left Sandling at 9.30 yesterday morning, arriving in London at noon. After securing a pass to the House of Commons I went to the Hotel and had lunch. Until three o’clock I wandered around near the Commons and along the Thames. From 3 to 5 I was in the Commons. There was little of interest going on. After that I had a wonderfully fine dinner. Then I [started?] to a theatre and got a ticket. From then till 8 I wandered about the streets. I found this quite interesting – wandering about in a state of blissful ignorance of where you were, or where you were going. The show I chose was Aida. I’ll tell you all about it later. To sum it up however, it consisted of two wonderfully and horribly fat women and a horribly potbellied hero who was so heroic that he had the two ladies weeping all the time. It was a relief when two of them finally expired. This morning I slept in till late, wandered down town and across to the station here and got my ticket. My next jump is to Edinburgh. I should get there some time this evening. I’ll stay there a day or so and then to Dundee, and then to Wick and further north.

This may be my last letter to reach you before Christmas. So, dearest Mother, I wish you all the compliments of the season and hope that we will be able to spend many more Christmases together.

Your loving son.
Grant Mowat.