November thirteenth? November?
I write the date on who knows how many documents over the course of a day, and yet it never registers. Where on earth have the past weeks gone? It's all a blur of
Mum. Shite. Mum. Her birthday. How could I?
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Dear Mother,
I'm so awfully sorry. Time has entirely gotten away from me lately. In truth, I can't even say with certainty that I've been going home every night - Merlin's beard, it's three in the morning Work has been very busy, but that's no excuse. I feel simply dreadful.
I shall have to treat you to a very fine dinner and hope you can forgive me. I meant to enquire about your work at St Mungo's, and other matters of course.
A Very Happy Belated Birthday,
Your son,
Percy