How are you doing? I think about you constantly. Finally, I've earned my right to write to you.
I'm having a lovely time here at Camp 3/III. The Camp is situated on an estuary in xxxxxxxxxxx. We pick mussels for the corps. The marshland is beautiful in the evenings. Thanks to the corps, we have now received wellington boots. They serve well not only on the beach and on the marshes but when we pick potatoes as well, not to mention how much easier it is to clean the barracks when we can leave the dirty wellies outside. Before xx xxxx xxxx xxxxx xxx xxxx.
We always keep the barracks spick and span. There is one latrine per 24 persons. Not least when we empty the latrines do we thank the corps for the wellingtons.
Life here is not only about picking mussels and growing potatoes. No, first and foremost it is about learning, rehabilitating, earning a place in society. To this effect, we attend lectures and fostering classes in the evenings. There is also the practice of xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx, carried out by the corps.
I love it here. Next time I can write is in December.
Mum, do you remember the nursery rhyme about the xxx? Please, try to remember. That's what I ask from you.
Since I have been here for six months now, parcels no heavier than 250 grammes can be sent via the corps headquarters in London.
ps. the xxx!
deletions made by the Central Censorship.
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