Just a few lines to let you know, that I’m still alive. I am writing this slowly because I know you can’t read fast. You won’t know the house when you come home, we’ve moved.
About your father, he has got a lovely new job. He has 500 men under him, he cuts the grass at the cemetery. Your sister had her baby this morning, I haven’t found out yet whether it’s a boy or girl, so I don’t know whether you’re an aunt or uncle.
I went to the doctor on Thursday and your father came with me. The doctor put a small tube in my mouth and told me not to talk for ten minutes. Your father offered to buy it from him.
Your Uncle Patrick drowned last week in a vat of Irish whiskey at the Dublin brewery. Some of his workmates tried to save him, but he fought them off bravely. They cremated him and it took three days to put the fire.
It only rained twice this week, first for three days then for four. I had a letter from the undertaker who said if the last payment on your grandmother’s plot isn’t paid within seven days up she comes.
Signed your loving mother
P.s. I was going to send you five pounds but I’ve already sealed the envelope.
Apologies in advance to any Irish members
