Just a few lines to let you know that I am still alive. I’m writing this letter slowly because I know that you cannot read fast. You won’t know the house when you come home. We’ve moved.
About your father. He has a lovely new job. He has 5,000 men under him. He is cutting the grass at the cemetery.
There was a washing machine in the new house when we moved in, but it isn’t working too good. Last week I put 14 shirts into it, pulled the chain and I haven’t seen the shirts since.
Your sister had a baby this morning. I haven’t found out whether it is a boy or a girl so I don’t know whether you are an aunt or an uncle.
Your Uncle Dick drowned last week in a vat of whiskey at Dublin’s Brewery. Some of his workmates dived in to save him but he fought them off bravely. We cremated his body, and it took us three days to put out the fire.
Your father didn’t have much to drink at Christmas. I put a bottle of castor oil in his pint of beer and it kept him going until New Year’s Day.
I went to the doctor on Thursday, and your father went with me. The doctor put a little glass tube in my mouth and told me not to open it for ten minutes. Your father offered to buy it from him.
It only rained twice last week. First for four days and then for three days. Monday it was so windy that one of our hens laid the same egg four times.
We had a letter from the undertaker. He said if the last installment wasn’t paid on your grandmother within seven days… UP SHE COMES!
Your loving mother
P.S. I was going to send you $10 but I had already sealed the envelope.