I’ve been working at the Claremont Hotel for months now, and lately it’s been a real chore.
My co-worker has been off sick and there’s simply too much work for one person.
The days are busy and long, but at least I’m able to get together with friends in the evening. (A little secret: we also enjoy a little nip of whisky to ease our troubles and calm our minds, despite the silly prohibition laws. Shhhh…don’t tell a soul.)
This postcard isn’t of the hotel, but rather, a lovely home just minutes down the road. I thought you’d appreciate the tiered gardens, although I think they could use your green thumb. Some of the plants are sorely in need of care, which you might be able to tell from the picture. The Berkeley Municipal rose gardens are in much finer shape. I wish you could see them.
The house is quite magnificent. And thank goodness the Claremont and this house escaped the fire of 1923 that destroyed so many buildings. It was a disaster, and they say that the fire was extinguished only by an act of providence.
Perhaps it’s providence that brought me to this job, and to our friendship. Lovingly, Florence
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