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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Edward Noel Fitzgerald
Barton Brow, Barton Cross.
March 27. 1941.
Dear Noel.
93.
Yours to hand. You don't say whether you want more eggs. I couldn't get another box, so left it over, as I'm packing hard and moving on Friday. Also my vat of Madeira should be with you anon.
Pearl [Pearl Brooksmith] now keeps house at Buckley School; she's bad at writing. Didn't I tell you that I had heard from Karl [Karl Germer]—Air Mail, Nov 16, from Pau. On March 18. Internment camp. Over four months! The modern craze for speed. Jameson—the Army was the one hope for him, silly brat! Good stuff, but no sense. No idea of purpose. Whims chasing wildly round in his brain.
Torquay has about 1,000,000 Raffies; good lads. Torquay is thought relaxing. Good for asthma, no doubt, in most cases. But on the hills it's not so bad. New house open in every direction for miles. Yes do let me know the verdict, and keep me informed of progress. (I've asked my barrel of Treacle to do this too.)
So, Noel, Stand Fast! Poems enclosed for you and your friends in St. Mary's
93 93/93
Best of all!
Yours,
Aleister.
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