Purgatory is nearly over. My return has been "approved" by the great god Moloch -- somewhere in this mysterious globe the monster has nodded his expressionless head in grand condescending approval. Sometime within the next 7 or 10 days I shall be permitted sorry, "ordered" to leave these bowels of the globe toward the windpipes called Torquay, where I shall wait perhaps a week or two or three for a blood vessel to carry me back to the throat of the St Lawrence and eventually to the great brain centre Ottawa.
My fate in this nerve centre again largely rests with the unknown whims of the monster but balanced by my own determinations will no doubt come to some sparkling conclusions. But at least I presume a little leave first, if issues can't be decided at once -- In which case I am looking forward to being shot out to the heart centre Toronto. I am innocently expecting in the middle of August.
How impossibly wonderful it will be. I am wondering how I shall control myself. Yet there will be no real joy until I am quite free from contract.
Will you please have me to tea
And can I have milk as well, and lettuce and tomatoes and please a peach a real lovely peach. I'd like to stay long enough to be thirsty for a cup of coffee -- brown creamy, hot, in a clean cup. After that I would like to be pampered by all.
Aldwinckle, Eric, Letter, 7 July