Ian Fleming Letter Transcription

 I know Becky already transcribed this, but here is my version...

Friday eve.                           

                                                                                                                                           Dudley Hotel 

                                                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                              Brighton.

My Poor Will,

                                Any moment now, the great annual cow-pat, warm from the [anu?] mondi (grammar right?), will plop upon your back. There will come the grunt of pain that only the elite among dung beetles is capable of [landing?], the limbs will bend like so many angle-poise lamps (MK  II) & then slowly, courageously straighten [menitcloes?] to take the extra [load?] & the brave beetle, cursing as only dung beetles can curse, will be on his way again down the camel track, under the hot sun, [extending?] [perneant?] sheets of green paper.

Right?

Right.

                                                                       Now, because I am not at the helm, this [part?] comes to you uncorrected, so be an angel & write“Uncorrected Typescript” boldly on the trout. Secundo, expect many small errors such as ‘scout’ instead of ‘secret’ (!) on p. 28.

                And I really dont want any other than you & and Michael to see it in its present form as I feel

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It needs much improvement.

                I would personally like to take it back to Jamaica & paint the lily next year, thus skipping a year, which will do no harm, [Latucing?] Cape’s profits for 1965, which they probably deserve, & giving myself about the right-sized stint for my next semester.

                For this is, alas, the last Bond and, again alas, I mean it, for I really have [run?] out of both puff & zest, and I would not like to short-weight my faithful readers to the [deraser?] service. But we will talk about that.  

                Anyway, [read?] it him, & dont wince the words. There is no point in doing so.

                I am here for another good 10 days. In bed, dammit!! But promised an outing to the X Ray monster tomorrow!! These snip-codas have really got me on my knees. But I have a darling nurse with whom I hold deliciously infantile conversations. “That is the next [piece?].  It is very pleasant to walk

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upon piers.” “Yes I will walk upon the West Pier this afternoon,” “You might play bingo on the pier. It is an amusing game.’ ‘Yes, it would be fun to play bingo on the pier” etc. etc.

                Quite a change from the nice [patulum?] I am used to with Annie who comes tomorrow. The contrast is so sharp that the last time she came down for lunch she put my pulse up to 120 !

                [Ann’s?] was excellent. Just [wading?] through a class exhibit by a chap called O.F. Spelling, published by Spearman. Even Shakespeare never had it so good !

                                Much love

                                                Ian.

P.S. Congrats on ‘The [Curlew?]” – But not enough about you in the [Dumpts?] !