Dear Mother,
          Has Dorothy told you about my getting leave on 10th February?   I think we shall get a week or so off, which will make a good break from service life - not that we aren't doing well for ourselves here, but it isn't like being at home, and I shall be glad to see Westwood Park for a few days.

          Things are progressing normally, but our flying hours are not mounting as quickly as I should like owing to frequent days with low visibility and fog.   Lately of course, there has been a great deal of snow in these parts, and last night we had 17 degrees of frost recorded on the aerodrome.   This makes it very difficult to start up the motors in the morning in spite of the precaution of covering them overnight, as we have too many aircraft to keep in the hangers.   It is sometimes 12 o’clock before they are warm enough to take off, so you see how it prevents flying even if the weather is clear.

          As some of the lecture rooms are on the chilly side, I have worn my flying boots continuously for the last seven or eight days, apart from the time spent in bed.   They are extremely comfortable, having a sheep’s wool lining throughout, and I use them as bedroom slippers as well.
          We are still getting a colossal meals, and there seems to be no sign of rationing of sugar or butter in the Mess - I suppose they think a growing airman needs plenty to eat.

          I had a letter from Dad the other day - it appears that he will soon take his place again as head of the household at 117.   I think he will be glad to get back, and I am sure you will be pleased about it.   That will bring things back to normal except myself, and you know that I am alright here with the other fellows.   The Group Captain seems to have his eye on me, and often speaks to me to see how I'm getting on in flying and lectures.   I shall have to keep in his good books if I want my commission quickly.

          Thank-you for all your motherly advice about working hard - but you know that a genius doesn't need to work, it just comes naturally to him.   Seriously, I am doing quite a lot - we have to, to keep pace with the notes and reading up, so don't worry about my not doing enough down here.

          Look after my little girl what I am away - she is sweet isn't she? 

          Love to all at 117, from your loving son, Geoffrey. 

P.S. Thought you might like one of my postcards of “Ansons”! (Dad might want to show it off to old Cowan, you never know!)