AN: Response to Abracadebra's Burn Night letter. LeBeau's letter will be up next ;)
Dear brother of mine,
I'm sorry. Things have been a bit topsy-turvy for the past few weeks. Don't bother asking why. It's work and the censors will just cut it out. Speaking of those blighters, they've pulled four of my letters - two for you and one each for James and Robert. They pulled me in last Monday for a right sound bolloxing. The censor was a Yank and he thought I was writing in bloody code. Me, writing to you in code. Now isn't that a laugh?
I don't blame Robert one bit. I've seen you on Burn Night and I swear it's just another excuse for you to tie one on. At least I think that's what Tom calls it. Not sure why. Crazy Americans.
Just don't take it too far. Nobody can drink a Scot under the table… except maybe the Irish.
I'll talk to Mam about your cure when she gets back from Wales. Aunt Gwynedd took a fall and sprained her foot. Mam's out for the weekend and won't be back until tomorrow night. I tell you, Peter, it's been bedlam here at the flat. Kiddies running off and giving me the fright of a lifetime! I suppose this means I'll make a rubbish mum. Or maybe I'm just a rubbish sister? Aren't you glad I was an absolute angel when I was a tyke?
I'll try to write a bit more often, but with work I'll not be swearing to it. Just in case I don't, you remember what I said: keep your head down and try not to get any more black eyes until Mam gets back. I'm quite fond of you, you know.
Love as always,
Mavis
P.S. If you'll be able to forgive me, I'll send you a batch of Mam's biscuits which I've whipped up as a bribe for the kids. Made with honey instead of sugar, but they're good enough.