Just a few lines to let you know that I am still alive. I am writing this slowly because I know that you can’t read very 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 grass at the cemetery.
Your sister Mary had a baby this morning. I haven’t found out yet if it’s a boy or a girl, so I don’t know if you’re an aunt or an uncle.
I went to the doctors on Thursday and your father came with me. The doctor put a small tube in my mouth and told me not to talk for 10 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 3 days to put the fire out.
It only rained twice this week, first for 3 days and then for 4 days.
We had a letter from the undertaker. He said if the last payment on your grandmother’s plot wasn’t paid in 7 days, up she comes.
Your loving Mother,
P.S. I was going to send you 5 pounds, but I have already sealed the envelope.”