Dear Neville,
I have so enjoyed our stay here in Crawley, and never was a splendid red head so energetic in the sack as Alfons is today. As I write, he is clearing out the pillows one by one with nothing but the suction of his marvelous lungs.
You must come quick for I fear this affair will be cut short by my jealous Bertie, his ferocious face has turned beetroot red after he slipped on the runcible spoon (a tell tale sign if ever there was one that we have been rumbled).
Much Love
Cynthia.
