Letter from Edward Thomas to the poet Gordon Bottomley. No address. Archival ref: 424/1/1/1/10/150
26 viii 10.

My dear Gordon,
I wish I was with you now or could come at once. I am back again with the intolerable swishing of the trees in rain and wind which we’ve had ever since I came here last Christmas. It makes me want to hear music, and I have never enjoyed music anywhere as much as yours at Well Known. However, I don’t think I can come. I have just had a couple of days on the Pilgrims Way in Kent and a couple with Conrad but I was not well at least except when alone and out of doors. Now I am expecting every day to go to Wales but am dependent on a travelling companion. Since I finished the beauty book I have been unable to work or rest, so I hope it will not be long. Proofs have begun to arrive and first off I will send you the first batch now. It does look horrible in small bits. Please send them back as guide as soon you can. Or (illegible) I can only send you the paper proofs. That would be kinder. Or I will send you duplicates of the slips and use your suggestions in the paper proofs.
I am sending “July” . It is one of three crude mixtures of experience and invention which prove me no artist. Damn it. I am only just beginning to discover it.
No haven’t given the baby her names yet. We

think of Olwen Margaret Elizabeth or even Mevanwy (Myfanwy) Margaret Elizabeth, because Olwen is too like Bronwen. Helen is getting on very well and sends her love to you and Emily. (This is vile paper)
I am too stupid to tell about Conrad except that he looks something like Sir Richard Burton in the head, black hair, and moustache and beard and a jutting out face, and pale thin lips extraordinarily mobile among the black hair, flashing eyes and astonishing eyebrows, and a way of throwing his head right back to laugh which he often does at things which tickle him - such as Hueffer’s “ harsh and offensive” treatment of the National Liberal Club porter. But I was uneasy with Conrad - though he is very friendly to me - and kept saying things I neither meant nor wished it to be (illegible) I meant. Alas ! if only I could have in solitude complete.
Ever yours
Edward Thomas