Monday 21 June 1943
London
My darling,
Many thanks for your two much more normal letters – received by me on Sunday and today. They show that you are adjusting your outlook much better than this time last week – no, it isn’t a week yet, is it? There are several references to the subject in your letters but I don’t think there is any real good in my saying anything further at this juncture. Pretty well everything there is to be said has been said except that I think you are adopting the only possible healthy outlook on the question of whether or not you will conceive. As you say, oats are not merely means of conception, nor is conception merely an excuse for oats. Let’s leave it at that, shall we, until I come home?
And on the question of coming home, all I can say is that if I get someone off A watch to do a sub for me it will mean that my leave would begin at 3am on, say, a Monday and I would have to be back on duty at 9am on Thursday. In that case I’d get the 8.30 train and be home about two in the afternoon. On the other hand, if I got someone from B watch to sub for me I’d finish at 9am on, say, a Tuesday, catch the 10.15 and be home about four. Then I wouldn’t have to be back until 1.30pm on Friday, which would mean, of course, that I’d be able to sleep(?) at home for three nights instead of two. As I told you yesterday, the great difficulty now is that fellows in the different watches are more or less paired off, but I’m going to do all I can to fix up with someone in B watch. As soon as I can get a definite date fixed I’ll do so and I’ll let you know at once. I hadn’t thought for a moment of telling anyone when I was coming so you’d better not get the children “built up” on this subject.
Talking of children, the virile Jim Morris showed us a picture of his youngest kiddie yesterday and she certainly looks a smasher. She’s just eight months and was first prize in their local baby show on Saturday. When I said his wife would be thrilled to bits, he said in that impudent way of his, “We took it for granted, old boy. The Morris touch!”
I don’t think there’s a great deal of news to tell you. Yesterday’s letter contains most of the news up to that point. After I sent the parcel off I got a bus to Hyde Park, but the band was not playing so I slept in the sun for an hour and walked to Toc H for supper. Today, so far, has been spent washing three flannels, three pairs of socks and a jean and now I’m sitting most uncomfortably on the grass in the little park by Turnham Green station. The sun is scorching hot and I’ve half a mind to slip over to Kew for an hour or two, although it’s nearly 5 o’clock now. Tonight, too, I must have a bath.
Well, sweetheart, that’s about all the news. I hope you got the parcel of chocolate alright today and that it will keep you going. It works out at almost a bar a day so it should help a bit. Let me know if it was broken at all, won’t you? Well, sweetheart, this is all the news for today. Take care of yourself and keep your pecker up. Get along to see Rees before Saturday if you possibly can.
All my love, darling. You’re quite right, for my arms are round you every night. Sleep well, angel, until I come to give you those injections! Will the children be writing again? Bye for now.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
Jun 211943