Colmcille wrote this letter to my friends 14 year old daughter when we got back from our week away.
He is awfully fond of Ronny.
Having picked a big bunch of wildflowers (and *ahem* weeds) with her in mind, he took the surviving stragglers back to London where he assembled them, with a little help, on a piece of card.
We had been to see Corfe Castle, arriving by steam train, both of which you can see in the postcard.
He wasn't impressed by the demolished castle ( the tumbledown state of which is owing to the activities of Cromwell and his Parliamentarian wrecking crew ) He thought it compared very unfavourably with Ronnys very own, for real castle, which is their holiday home.
It's just outside Salzburg and we stayed with them there just before Easter.
Having the advantages of little 21st century refinements like central heating, hot and cold running water and a Great Hall replete with a swing and all the ride on cars a boy could dream of, it rather knocks sorry old Corfe into a cocked hat.
Anyway, I thought the letter was very sweet, so I am leaving a record of it here for my own indulgence.
"Dear Ronny I rode on this train. I went to a broken down castle Your castle is nicer I picked these flowers for you on a long walk. I love you Ronny Lots of love golly xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"