Baghdad March 11. Dearest Father. Here is rather a slack morning so I'm writing to you in the office. It has been rather a slack week forebye. J.M. [Wilson] and I intended to go up to Tekrit [Tikrit] on Sunday night for a brief archaeological inspection, motoring down next day; but there was a fearful duststorm all Sunday and we didn't like to risk it - we were well advised - it poured in the night and the train only got as far as Samarra where it was stopped by a wash out in the line and came back. It has rained almost continuously since.
We had a sad weekend, clouded by the death from pneumonia of Major Pulley , Ken's second at the Interior. He was a capital second to Ken who will miss him very much, and he leaves a widow and three little boys with almost nothing to support them. It's dreadful.

Then we also got the news of an attack on one of the desert convoys by four beduin, resulting in the death of the wife of the French vice Consul and the looting of their car. We don't know yet who are the culprits. It's the first thing of the kind to have happened in the 18 months since the trans desert route was started.

Upon my soul I almost wish there weren't a desert route - it brings such a pack of silly females, all with introductions to me. The last one thought fit, in sending hers, to say I had been her inspiration for years. NB I had never heard of her and was sick on the spot. I took her savagely to see the Museum and succeeded in checking her ardour I'm glad to say - except for early Babylonian antiquities.

Dust storms and rain have closed us in. Iltyd and I profited by the last fine day and walked in Haji Naji's gardens where the apricot blossom was all out. We had tea with Haji Naji afterwards, dear old thing.

I'm afraid I shall not hear from you till you post a letter at Ceylon [Sri Lanka]. I shall be much thrilled by your account of your meeting with Elsa. Ever, dearest, your very affectionate daughter Gertrude.