Letter from Edward Thomas to his wife, Helen Thomas. Archival reference: 424/1/1/1/1/86
3.II.99

My dearest friend

I can understand that you found nothing very charming in my last letter, but cannot understand how you expect anything else. Consider the life I lead here. The greater part of it in bed and at meals, the rest spent in getting ready for sleep, in digesting, in violent exercise, foul conversation and dull work. I don't even have time or inclination to write. How then could

I want that (illegible) R returned at once, if possible by Sunday, the editor has asked for more but I don't know what to send until I examine my note books.

All last week I have unable to row. My wrist is not painful but swollen and weak. A doctor has painted and bound it, says I ought to be able to row soon. Certainly I shan't row till Monday, if not then - not at all, year, for the races begin on Thursday week, I should be only training after such a rest. I should be sorry to lose a chance getting my colours this year. Except for
I wrote to you whom I can only satisfy by my best self. Remember that last line is the last verses I wrote:

Why I am not always love! As a rule it is impossible I should write to you except as a friend willing and even anxious to hear just the bare facts of my life. Oxford is not a place for friends (so far). I almost forget what it is to have a friend at my side. Naturally (illegible) I cannot write in a truly friendly way : and especially as my life is such as to dispense with the need of friends, it is so humdrum and unadventurous

Anyhow !

Of course I only want you to talk about yourself in your letters. Of who else ? I am not concerned with the (illegible) or anybody there What else could you write of ? Nothing,
I want to hear nothing but your innocent talk, expressing the laughter which is natural to health, purity and happiness.
My dearest I am very well indeed. Did I tell you I ran to Nuneham and back (10 miles) on Tuesday without exhaustion. It was a strange experience: the cold day ; hazy but still with a wide landscape; very still ; the full swift river; and the solitude - for I left the others behind, and the boat was some way ahead. My running with Arthur served me well.

Given my mishap, I have taken to walks , one with
Haynes, one with MacAlister. They were both new walks and very pleasant - especially one through Bagley wood with Haynes (trespassing)

I like Haynes and yet detest the brilliant, vicious society at Balliol. Haynes himself is utterly immoral: but still with many fine feelings and purposes I think ..... We found no daisies though. You were lucky ; and kind to see me the Daisy you first found.

Sweet Helen! If I did not know you, I should by this time be the

most abandoned by treatment up here. As it is did you see me as I am, I fear you would think me sadly fallen from my sentimental well intentioned babyhood , two years ago.

I am going to try and write a page or two or remake an old thought, perhaps for the JR ..

Goodbye, sweet heart. In life I am your truest and fondest friend Edw and you ever my own sweet little one, my anemone maiden. Goodbye Helen

Adieu

P.S. My aunt is not hear (sic) yet