Dear son,
Just a few lines to let you know I’m still alive. I’m writing this letter slowly because I know you can’t read fast. You won’t know the house when you get home – we have moved.
About your father – he has a lovely new job. He has 500 men under him – he outs grass at the cemetery. There was a washing machine at the new house when we moved in but t hasn’t been working too good. Last week I put in 14 shirts, pulled the chain, and haven’t seen the shirts since.
Your sister Mary had a baby this morning but I haven’t found out whether it’s a boy or a girl. So I don’t know if you are an aunt or an uncle.
Your uncle Patrick drowned last week in a vat of whisky in the Dublin Brewery. Some of his workmates tried to save him but he fought them off bravely. They cremated him and it took three days to put out the fire.
I went to the doctor on Thursday and your father went with me. The doctor put a small tube in my mouth and told me not to talk for ten minutes. Your father offered to buy it from him.
It only rained twice this week, first for three days and then for four days. Monday was so windy one of the chickens laid the same egg for four times. We had a letter from the undertaker. He said if the last payment on your Grandmother’s plot wasn’t paid in seven days, up she comes.
Your loving mother.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
P.S I was going to send you ten dollars but I had already sealed the envelopes.
* credit to my hubby for retyping...hee... *
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