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My darling,
I hoped I would have a letter from you today yet it was a great relief when I found it in the box. I thought I would begin to feel ‘it is only one more week’, since it is Thursday, but not a bit of it. Instead of that I have been feeling that I could never get through another week. In fact things have really gone not at all badly. I gave X. a session which was one long ultimatum on Monday, feeling sick at heart after it because I felt I did not want to lose a patient. He turned up again on Tuesday though; more ultimatopoeic (if you grasp my meaning) sessions, that and the next day, together with a phone call from Mrs X. asking what to do and whining fit to burst about her ‘assuming I would tell the boy what to do’. “Suppose he says he won't come?” “Tell him you will give him a lift.” “But I find I can't carry him if he won't – .” Stifling a “Good God!” I suggested she might tell him to go but leave him to get on. If she cannot see that people in a home all have to sacrifice some liberty if life is to be tolerable, one wonders how any boy could have a hope of progress or disciplined growth …