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Mum,
I can’t believe it. They finally are recognizing me. I was promoted! Me! The ceremony is in a week, on your birthday. I don’t have much, but I sent a pressed flower. I hope you like it. It’s your favorite.
In a week, mum, I will be Captain John Hamish Watson. Captain! Have you ever imagined it? When I was born did you say, “yes, quite right. This one will be a captain in the Royal Army, this one?” And the nurses all applaud? Okay, so that’s a bit melodramatic or poetic or whatever dad would claim.
Have you heard from Harry and Clara? Clara sent me a really nice letter a few weeks ago, but nothing from Harry. If you hear from her, do tell her that I have some phone time if she wants a chat or something. I never know what that girl wants.
I miss you.
I miss home.
I miss your cooking. I probably lost about twenty pounds because you’re not here feeding me constantly.
I’ll send you a picture next week, mum, alright? Of your son in full uniform. i hope to make you and my country proud.
I love you so much.
John.