Letter from Cairo, dated 12 May 1927 to Miss Charlotte Harlot (pronounced Harlow)

Dearest Cousin Lottie,

How are you, old thing? Thanks for your letter. Completely unexpected as was the unique mottling effect on the paper which I deduce by the general tone of the letter and the sharp jaunty handwriting was caused by tears and unbridled sobbing.

Look, I know you were fond of Langers but lets put things into perspective: 1) He's not dead and 2) You know his reputation; he was always a cad of the first order and I'm saying this as his friend. When we were at school together, he used to leave a trail of inconsolable girls and human wrecks in his wake. Poor unfortunate creatures whom he had just used and mercilessly thrown away. It took a women like Kitty with a will of iron, an inheritance the size of Monaco's national budget and the seclusion of the middle of the African jungle, well away from any living, breathing female (human or otherwise) to tame him or at least restrain him. Though I am not convinced that his condition is irreversible given the wrong person, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Before you get any thoughts, you are not that person. You may not have an older brother but I am the next best thing. I've always watched out for you since we were little. I've lost count of the number of times I've been punched in the face because of you. Don't let my caved in nasal crypts and my subsided septum be in vane.

Besides, you're only twenty three. Look at me! I'm twenty seven, still studying, with no career and no girl to hang on my arm of an evening. No girl for me to drag to remote parts of the globe where white people are seldom seen by the indigenous population and are either feared, revered or possibly eaten. (I've yet to find a place that offers straight uncomplicated crossbreeding - fear, loathing and hunger are the most common responses but I digress).  Wedgy on the other hand has a thriving career in politics, drives the bees knees of cars, and is engaged to a top notch girl. Then there's Langers and even Charlie! See-through Charlie! The boy who always won Hide and Seek by standing behind standard lamps, sign posts and clinging to the sides of banisters. Even in his painfully thin and emaciated state, he has still managed to get hooked up with a young lady who is very happy with him and whom he is thinking of settling down with. He's even put on a bit of weight around the ears I believe.

What I'm trying to say, is that there will be other far more dashing, reliable chaps out there, desperate to meet a corker of a girl like you. Just don't go to the wedding, get drunk and end up snogging the groom. That can only lead to misery and despair. Besides, I'm told Kitty has a wicked right hook!

I'm back a couple of days before the main event so why don't we spend some time away from the house, just the two of us; preferably with a not so light lunch and refreshments courtesy of the Mouldy Truckle. It's either that, or breaking your teeth on Mama's patented fruit scones and burning the stomach linings with one of her rather austere jams. See you then.

Love and best wishes,

Jack.

Letter from Cairo dated 6th May 1927 addressed to Mr Andrew Langton

Dear Langers,

How are the wedding preparations going? We are very much looking forward to the auspicious occasion. Mother has bought yet another new hat even though she's not on the invite list (she needs very little excuse), Wedgy plans to roll up in his new Rolls and Seethrough Charlie has gone for a  fitted white suit. I fear however that with his gaunt, thin frame, he risks looking somewhat less than dashing and more like a desiccated corpse wrapped in a funerary shroud. Cousin Lottie on the other hand has taken the news very badly. Auntie says she hasn't been out of her room for days and puts it down to the old girl feeling that she's been left on the shelf . I on the other hand have a different theory. I have long suspected and shared with you the possibility she has always carried a torch for you. Between you and me and Kitty if she's reading this, I think you picked the right girl. One would have to be constantly fitted with earplugs and a possess a constitution of iron to endure Lottie's laugh which alternates between, snorting, braying and bleating. An hour in my cousin's company is like a day on the farm.

Anyway, I am just making final preparations to return to old Blighty. My tutor Dr Blomqvist is less than happy as we have just discovered a new site down in the banks of the Nile. As some small compensation, I have promised to do some research on Friezes and Cornices at the British library and to bring him back some books that he needs. I have also promised to bring back some decent whisky for an old retired RAF officer that I met at a bar. Pleasant enough old chap; well fed, ruddy faced with a huge white moustache. Apparently he was a flying ace in the Great War. You may have heard of him; Wing Commander Reginald T. Flatterblatter. I said to him, "With any luck in a few years they might allow you to command the whole plane." He was less than amused until I thrust a large scotch in front of him and then suddenly he perked up. Now we regularly meet up and discuss the good old days (his, not mine). After a tiring day digging through the dust and dirt, it is quite relaxing listening to someone prattle on and not have to join in. Rather like listening to the wireless.

Anyway all the best to you both. See you in a couple of weeks.

Best regards.

Jack.

Letter from Cairo dated 28th April 1927 addressed to Mrs Mary Courageous

Dear Mama

I hope you and Papa are well. I'm glad to hear that the weather has been unseasonably hot and sunny. Long may it continue. Hopefully the regrettable incident regarding the substitution of a piece of glass in the church window with a small lens and the resulting scorch marks on Reverend Thorne's  shiny pate have now been largely forgotten. It's strange; that lens must have been there for some considerable time. You'd almost be forgiven for thinking that someone had deliberately placed it there at the exact point where the sun would hit the very place where the very reverend stands. One can only surmise the motives behind such a calculated action but the long tedious, narcoleptic sermons interjected by spasms of fire and brimstone to keep the adults awake and ensure that children never sleep again must surely be a strong contender. I wonder what went through his mind when it happened? Did he perceive and was filled with the white hot all embracing power of the lord almighty or the burning, fiery clutches of the netherworld pressing a thumb on his scalp and marking him as its own.

Anyway on to the reason why I am writing. I will be home on the 6th of June and staying for a week. The Wedding is in Guildford on the Saturday so I should have enough time to pick up some essential supplies for my return. Have invited cousin Lottie over as she will also be attending. I assume she will be staying in one of the guest rooms overlooking the, in which case please do not put her in the one with grandpapa's old hunting trophies. As you know, she does not agree with the killing animals and does not eat meet so to put her in that room would be akin to putting up the guest bed in the town's abattoir.

Look forward to seeing you all in a couple of weeks.

All my love.

Jack.