Letter from Edward Thomas to his wife, Helen Thomas. Archival reference: 424/1/1/1/1/121
3.11.99

My dearest Helen,

I enclose £3.0.0. for you. You know how to proceed = you will give your name as Mrs Helen Thomas, to avoid confusion not H.B. or anything else.

Edwards has told me I must work 8 hours a day at least. Sorry time is more than ever limited, especially as I am spending more time out of doors and in bed. I no longer dream of writing, at least till my health is better , but have to be content with mere note taking. I am still exceedingly weak, and everybody remarks on my thin worn face. So I am eating more ( for to save [illegible] I often went hungry to bed), and sleeping 8 hours or more. I have no point at present and no capacity for real useful work. Next fine day (it is now blowy, windy and raining) I shall spend altogether
out of doors. That may be Sunday. It can't be tomorrow because Miss Lucas has invited me to tea, to meet her brother. I am looking forward to the meeting.

Your letters do me good, little one. You are the pot of basil to my distress. You are my horizon, my moon, I could not live without you, hardly without your letters, especially now your time draws near. Let me know how you are feeling and all that you do.

The only friend really I have here is Morgan, of him I have seen quite a lot, he is continually calling for me to join him on a walk, where his conversation is always as lively as the wind, and as fresh. He is a mood of energy and vigour, despite that occult liver. We get on very well, tho he talks most in an egotistic style sometimes that is very amusing and very childish. Our common friend the Deacon writes occasionally and has been kind enough to send me some photos of Carreg Cenen Castle near Ammanford. Morgan grows quite jealous.

" Proserpina " is not in the Tate Gallery. She is holding a pomegranate from which a wedge has been cut out , disclosing the seeds: her right hand grasps her left wrist, her left hand the fruit.

I have nothing to say to your expenditure. It's no doubt as it should be.

But why haven't you sent the mantel cloth? I would now rather do without it.

Why Irene doesn't write I can't imagine. But I can imagine she would be nervous after her affair.

A visitor has come to tea.

Therefore Adieu Sweetheart and write soon.

I am ever and wholly your Edw

I have written to the Speaker