Dear son,
Just a few lines to let you know I'm still alive. I am writing this
letter slowly because I know you 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 cuts the grass at
the graveyard. There is a washing machine at the new house, but it has
not been working well. Last week I put in 14 shirts, pulled the chain
to start the washing machine, and haven't seen the shirts since. Your
sister Mary had a baby this morning, but I haven't found out if it is
a boy or a girl, so I don't know if you are an uncle or an aunt. Your
uncle Patrick drowned in a vat of whiskey. Some of his workmates tried
to save him but he fought them off bravely. They cremated him and it
took three weeks to put out the fire. I went to the doctors on
Thursday and your father went with me. The doctor put a small glass
tube in my mouth and told me not to talk for ten minutes. Your father
offered to buy it from him. Your father ate five pounds of potatoes
all to himself. He managed it because the potatoes were only small
ones.
Your loving mother.
P.S. I was going to send you ten pounds but I have already sealed the
envelope.
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