01 October

1 October 1920

Travelling to Menton, France

Friday.
V. warm - overclouded with a vague, dark wind.
Dearest Bogey
I repent of having sent you that depressed card. I ought not to have, I suppose. Really, its rather a nice point of conduct. I cant decide it for myself. Knowing you - should I refrain? But the falsity - Oh, Blow. Yes, of course I ought not to: I mean its terrifically against my interests ever to gronder. I risk you loving me less nearly, less warmly: I risk you -even taking off the receiver altogether so as not to be bothered with that cursed bell. No, its TOO difficult.
How is the house going, darling? Does it go smoothly? Are you left untroubled? Please let me know this. And do take great care of getting hot at tennis & then not putting on a thick enough coat after. Do be careful of your colds.
You've so precious little money (2d less than £1!) that I don't dare sug¬gest the dentist - yet you ought to go. You ought to keep as fit as you can in every way to withstand the winter cold. Dont save. Spend it on (get¬ting) keeping healthy. What in Heaven's name is there to equal HEALTH. There's no future if youre not well, no solid substantial Xmas with £50 in the pudding. There is only TODAY. That reminds me of your buying the Hardy. How fantastic it seemed when I was just holding on to the hour and the minute in Ospedaletti.  But this feeling (which is mak¬ing me simply reckless at present) would be very difficult to imagine if one had not been ill. Really if one is healthy one can live on next to nothing still - of course one can - OR once one is well one can make money - easy as winking. Why not? But if ones ill - well - there one is with a grey gown and a rattle coughing in the wake of the chariots.
[Letter to J. M. Murry in Collected Letters 1920]