I am dashing off a note, before heading straight from a radio party for the christening, which the royal family most inconveniently scheduled for the middle of the night, to the Professor Ks. It seems, impossible as it is to believe, that my audition there last month was not a complete disaster, and I have been invited to Thanksgiving dinner, which is very nice of them, especially when Reggie is detained on matters mathematical (if I had to put an exact moment to the point when I finished this letter, it would be well after dinner, and several glasses of a so-so Gallo to the good, so excuse me for being a bit whimsical). Where was I? Dashing? Well, you shall have all of me, and for a rather long time, it seems, this Christmas, and we can catch up then.