From Arthur to Stella: ‘let me say “thank you” for a very pleasant break in this deadly monotony’

Jul 041943
 

Sunday
London
Dearest,
Before I forget to mention it, and thereby sow seeds of suspicion in your lilywhite mind – Dave gave me 10/- on Thursday night! So, all things considered, I managed out for money fairly well. Will you please let me know if my coming home has financially embarrassed you? I meant to mention it while I was home. If my journeys home ever do mean that you have got to skimp things in the house after I have gone, will you promise to let me know? Then if I have a few bob loose I’ll send it on to you.
I’m sorry I didn’t write you even a note for Saturday, but the day got a bit complicated. To begin with, the bloke who was going to do my watch for me didn’t turn in – his alibi being that he thought it was next week! The result was that after we finished on Friday morning I had to stay behind and see the old man. He was quite decent about it to me and we had a man-to-man talk in the course of which he said he has recommended my advancement as from June 28. It has still to be ratified at depot of course, but when it comes through I’ll get paid as from that date. This interview made me late getting away to lunch and then, as I was looking round St James Park for a decent place in which to write you a note, I met Alex MacWhnnie, with whom I had such a long natter that I couldn’t possibly have got a letter written after he had gone.
Many thanks for your note yesterday. The parcel has not arrived yet, but I’m hoping it will arrive by tomorrow. Yesterday was by far the hottest day we have had yet – really stifling. I borrowed a jacket of Jack’s and changed into civvies to go to a holidays-at-home concert in one of the local parks, and after that we went to a hospital fete – very like the Bootle May Day – and I was longing to have you there to go on the various horses and the lash and motor cars etc. A night at a fair these days costs a small fortune for the standard charge seems to be 1/- per trip! So we left it severely alone. Dot was very attracted by the roulette and the housey-housey! Fortunately she only discovered these stalls as we were leaving or she would have been chained to them all night I think!
I’m glad you enjoyed the bottle of Blue Label. I thought you would! By now the rabbit will have arrived, I expect, and I’m looking forward to hearing the children’s reactions. Tiger’s nose will be out of joint for a time, I expect. As usual your Sunday letter hasn’t arrived yet, but I expect it will be waiting for me after dinner. I’m only saying that in case there are any points which you think should be answered.
Jack and Dot both send their love to you and were glad to know the brief break had gone so well.
And now, having dealt with all the news, let me say “thank you” for a very pleasant break in this deadly monotony. Sweetheart, it was a very restful – yes, restful! – three days and a foretaste of the real sense of peace we will enjoy once more when all this nonsense is over. It will be good to get home again and not be haunted by this inevitable return date. I enjoyed doddering around in the plot, especially on Thursday when there was something to see for my labours. Wednesday’s efforts were no doubt welcome to you, but it took so long to shift that pile of grass that there seemed nothing to show. Next time I come home I really must spend a few days out there.
Darling, I have no more time to write much more, but thank you once again for three delightful, normal and peaceful days which have left me with a sense of mental restfulness which still persists and which will last for some time yet. I think the children also deserve a pat on the back, don’t you? So please say thank you to them for their contribution to the success of the three days. Tell them from me that they were both very good.
Sweetheart, I must leave you now. Each time I come home I come away loving you more and more deeply and you were a good girl when I had to leave – the moment I always dread. Bye for now, love, and all my love.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I wanted to go to the baths and sleep in the sun’

Jul 051943
 

Monday
London
Dearest,
There’s not, I’m afraid, very much news for you today for since I wrote to you yesterday I have done just three things – work, eat and sleep! It was so hot last night that we didn’t get back to our bunks until midnight and, as we were up again at 2.45, I didn’t feel exactly full of beans by the time we had finished. When I got home this morning I curled up on the settee and was only disturbed by the arrival of my parcel about 11 o’clock and back I went to sleep again, waking half an hour ago to find that it was 4.30. Now I’m rushing round to get out to the barber’s by 5.30 for, as you so truly remarked when I was home, I do need a haircut. I’m disappointed that the day has passed like this because I wanted to go to the baths and sleep in the sun. Actually there’s a lot of grey cloud about today, but it’s still oppressively sticky as if there’s a giant thunderstorm in the offing somewhere. For all that, the baths would have been a very pleasant place today.
Your letter hasn’t arrived today so I don’t know if the rabbit came or not on Saturday, but I hope you had a pleasant day. The only thing I’m worried about is in case you have got Wendy’s chickenpox! I certainly can’t grumble about letters since I came back – three in as many days! And I’m sorry, angel, that you were left without one on Saturday.
Well, love, I really must go for this haircut and then a bath is very definitely indicated. My love to the children and I hope that Wendy’s chickenpox is improving. Has Michael broken out yet?
All my love, sweetheart, and do take good care of yourself. Thank you for the parcel which arrived in good condition.
Ever your own
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘there is a very strong “buzz” going round the office about a big draft’

Jul 061943
 

Tuesday
London
Dearest,
A very short note today as I’m on my way to play my tennis match and I have to be there by 3pm. Your letter did eventually arrive just after 5 o’clock and I hope my letter reached you by Monday. It should have done because it was posted early enough.
There is a very strong “buzz” going round the office about a big draft. I can’t tell you where it’s for, obviously, but if we do hear anything definite I’ll wire you at once of course.
Dot and Jack are a bit fed up with the holiday mix-up for they are apparently still awaiting definite news as to whether Eric and Lillian will be coming on the Thursday or the Saturday before August holiday.
I’m sorry this is so sketchy a letter, love. I’ll try to make up for it tomorrow. Bye for now. All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘it is a very pleasant spot and one to which, if I have to go abroad, I shouldn’t mind going’

Jul 071943
 

Wednesday
London
Hello Sweet,
Sorry I had to send you such a brief note yesterday but I was very pushed for time as I was due at Clapham by three. Anyway, I managed to get my match played before the violent thunderstorm broke and although I lost 6–3 7–5 I quite enjoyed the game – my first in about 10 years! As you can imagine, I feel a bit stiff today, especially round the bottom, but it’s not as bad as I expected. What I could do with is another game today to work this stiffness off. I think I’ll try to get all the experience in that I can for I’m afraid I’m getting very lethargic both physically and mentally lately, and I find even a little physical exercise makes a big difference to my mental alertness.
I told you yesterday of the possibility of a draft and I’m afraid I can say nothing more at the moment. Opinion is divided here as to whether they will send us or Wrens to this particular place, which is a very pleasant spot and one to which, if I have to go abroad, I shouldn’t mind going. Dave has a brother there, incidentally. Anyway, our people here are likely to find it difficult to make up their minds what to do so we may not know for some time. Don’t worry about the prospect and I’ve only told you because I always promised that if we had any inkling in advance I’d let you know. I should think that if we are going we’ll most likely have to go to barracks first so if you get a wire saying I’m going to Chatham you’ll know things are on the move. And that, at the moment, is all that I can tell you.
There’s not very much news today other than this. After I had played tennis yesterday I watched the lads play cricket for a time but we got such a torrential downpour that within a quarter of an hour the pitch was flooded and the game had to be abandoned. After I’ve written this letter I’m going to bathe and shave and then make up my mind whether to go for a swim or whether to go and watch another cricket match.
Thank you for your letters, sweetheart. I’m sorry to hear about Jennifer. Tell Chris I hope things will turn out okay. She’s bound to be worried. I can never make out exactly what is meant by the loose phrase “gland trouble”. What is it? Molly’s type is more my idea of someone running to fat because of some gland not functioning properly.
You’ve been having some busy days in the garden, haven’t you? If you keep the rubbish well turned over, you should be able to burn it fairly easily after two, or at the most, three days providing you have got all the soil away from the roots. When you do set fire to it, be careful that there’s plenty of room between the fire and your nearest crops. A fire like that generates enormous heat and you’ll find anything near it soon shrivelled up. It’s odd that the second row of peas should have been ready before the first. The nursery certainly seems to have reliable stuff.
I’ve been talking to one or two of the lads here and they say the promotion has not affected their wives’ pay, but in one case at least I know the fellow filled in a renewal form just before he was “made”, but neither of them made any alteration in their allotment which means that it is just “bunce” to them.
By now you’ll know I have received the parcel. I’m interested to hear what the children have to say about the rabbit and I should have liked to have seen Tiger’s reaction which, according to Mother, would have made a good film. I’m glad Judy has settled down happily and I only hope the children won’t lose interest in it after a couple of months. Do they stand with their noses jammed against the door of the hutch? I’m sorry it didn’t arrive before I got home. Have you had it in the house yet, or have you decided against that.
Well, angel, that’s about all the news except to say that if our little thunderstorm has reached you it will have saved you quite a lot of watering! How are the raspberries? I’m really sorry the loganberries didn’t take. Two jobs I must try to get done when I’m home next are the clearing and burning of the bank between us and Masons and the establishment of a proper manure heap for that one is just a nest of heavy grass.
And now, love, it’s time to say bye for today. I’m glad you are getting so much fresh air and exercise while the weather is decent, but don’t overdo it, will you? Perhaps you are right about losing weight through it, but we’ll see about that when the weather prevents you from doing so much. My love to the children, but you still haven’t told me how Wendy is or if Michael has “copped” it! All my love, angel, and I love you very dearly these days.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘Dot violently disapproves of late hours – she had an idea that I’d been on the beer’

Jul 081943
 

Thursday
London
Dearest,
Wot the ’ell I’m going to write about this morning I don’t know, because so little has happened since yesterday afternoon and, so far, your letter hasn’t arrived.
As I told you, I went to watch the cricket at Mitcham and to get there I had to catch the ubiquitous 88 to a local landmark known as The Cricketers – a famous pub now reduced by the blitz to a bar about the size of a cowshed. Opposite is a typical village green in the heart of a modern suburb and this very same green is sacred to all cricketers as being the place where the great Jack Hobbs learned to play, and also the spot where the Aussies inevitably play their first game when they come to this country. All that won’t be of great interest to you, but what I was going to say is that I got on the good old ighty-ight at 4.30, fell asleep at Marble Arch, woke up three-quarters of an hour later and found we had only reached the outskirts of Clapham. By the time I got off the bus at The Cricketers it was 6.10! Now do you wonder why the beloved 88 is so popular? Even then it hadn’t reached the terminus! Thank God I had a bob ticket or it would have cost me a young fortune.
I had my bath before I went and lay soaking in lovely hot water. I managed to fall asleep in the bath for half an hour and when I woke up I was like a lobster, as you may imagine.
The match was not very good and by the time I got there our lads had won easily, but afterwards we found a pleasant little pub where we had a couple of pints and then went for the bus. After waiting half an hour we found the last 88 had gone so we got a bus to Tooting Broadway and caught the tube to The Strand where we had supper in The Crypt. I finally got home at 11.45 to find my bed made up for me and, although the light was on in their bedroom, not a word from either Jack or Dot. I don’t think it worries Jack what time I come in, but I did get the impression that Dot violently disapproves of anything like late hours. I think she had an idea that I’d been on the beer! There’s a good deal of Mother in her, isn’t there?
And that, I’m afraid, pretty well exhausts the news of the day. Tomorrow the lads are playing at Ember Court, Thames Ditton, where there will be swimming and tennis as well as cricket, so I think I’ll go along there too. I might as well get all the fun I can while I’m here. I expect there’ll be quite a crowd going from here so we should have quite a nice day if the weather is decent.
Anyway, I’ve never seen any of our Wrens in bathing costumes! Seeing that you were mean enough to filch the evidence out of my pocket, I suppose I’ll have to go to sick bay, won’t I? Don’t you think you would have been wiser to leave that one there and demand to see it every time I come home? You can’t keep a good man down, you know. Ask John next time you see him!
And considering there’s been nothing doing, I think that’s quite a good letter. Let me know the news of Jennifer, won’t you? When is she to go into hospital? I’ll bet Wendy was sorry to hear about it although I know you’ll avoid any anxiety atmosphere in relation to hospitals.
Now, angel, I must away to lunch. I do love you and miss you a lot these days and all the time the old 88 was bowling miles and miles across London from one side to the other I was wishing you were there. Look after yourself won’t you, sweetheart. All my love to you and the children.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘you didn’t wish this rain on me, did you, just because I was going to sport my manly torso among the Wrens?’

Jul 091943
 

Friday
London
Hello Sweetheart,
I’ve two letters of yours to answer now, haven’t I, so perhaps I’d better start on them first. Many thanks for the children’s letter, which I really enjoyed. It has that air of running from one thing to another in breathless haste so typical of children. Please thank them for it and tell them I’ll write in a few days.
I’m glad to hear the news of Jennifer, which isn’t quite so bad as it at first appeared, but it’s worrying enough. Chris will be a long time getting over this and it is only to be hoped that she doesn’t spoil Jennifer still further. When you write to Chris, give her my regards, won’t you? She can tell Jennifer I was in that hospital long before her – when I went to have my ha’penny removed! It might intrigue Jen a bit. Meeting Harold was indeed a stroke of luck for you never get all the news in a letter. My love to the old hen if she does come out to see you!
We’ve been having your spell of rain here and, as it is our day off and I’d planned a nice day of tennis and swimming, the weather has turned cold and there’s a drizzling rain. You didn’t by any chance wish this on me, did you, just because I was going to sport my manly torso among the Wrens?
You will find that after a couple of days dry weather is about the best time for weeding because then you can get the soil off the roots without it clogging quite so much. I know just how you feel about the plot being cleared – like the village blacksmith and his “something attempted, something done”.
I’m glad to know that the rabbit is making his contribution to the garden! If he is well cleaned out once a week I think he should be all right. Why not use one of the small shovels from the fireside set for clearing the hutch? I think the fireguard stunt a good idea, but won’t he be able to push it over soon? What do you use for the big part of the hutch? Did you remember to ask Jane what they put on theirs?
Oddly enough, when the post was put in the rack at work this morning I kept wittering that no one ever sent me any registered letters and then, when I’d been home half an hour, your letter came! For a commercial concern, that bank is a weird place for making mistakes. According to the note, the money is “from June”, which obviously should be “from Jane”. When we do eventually get our slops, I’ll be able to send quite a bit of this back to be put away in the old oak chest because I’ve been hoarding some money from my holiday. There should still be about 30/- in the said chest, shouldn’t there? Hope so, because I’ll have to pay my fare home next time, you know.
I’m glad to have the news of the children and to know that Wendy is getting over it so quickly. No, love, there’s no further news of the draft and we are all holding our breaths for it would naturally take some time to sort out as it shouldn’t be considered a wildly urgent draft. Don’t worry, angel, I’ll let you know by wire if there’s any news. We were told yesterday, when we were being paid, that our promotion has been ratified as from June 28th, so we should have a few extra bob in our pockets next pay day or the week after. I won’t, of course, make any increased allotment, but will you be sure to let me know if there’s anything for which you need a few extra bob? Or would you prefer me to send you a few bob every week? Let me know about this, love, so that I’ll have an idea where I stand each week. Though why the hell I should work my fingers to the bone and then send the money to some woman I’m officially allowed to see three times a year, I don’t know!
I think that is all the news for today, love – to say nothing of the bullying! Oh, angel, I’d love to be home at this moment bullying you and whipping John in and out at odd moments! Lovely thought. And it’s no use you comforting yourself with the illusion that I’d be no good to anyone after you had finished with me, because I woke up with an erection this morning, so perhaps it is as well I didn’t go to Thames Ditton this morning! I must tell those Wrens tomorrow what they missed! All of which is just another way of telling you how much I’m missing you, my own girl. I wish they’d get on with this job and get it over. Everyone these days seems to have the jumps waiting for the balloon to go up!
Now I must wash my dishes up and I think I’ll change into civvies. I’m really disappointed about today, but I should have known better than to look forward to it so much.
My love to the children. Look after yourself, angel, and don’t overdo things, will you? All my love, sweetheart, for I do love you so.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘the balloon seems to have gone up at last, doesn’t it?’

Jul 111943
 

Sunday
London
Dearest,
Well, the balloon seems to have gone up at last, doesn’t it? And the result is that people here who have been waiting for ages have settled down. It’s always the same with people who have to sit down and wait for something to happen, isn’t it? When it does come off it seems commonplace, but I don’t suppose the lads on the spot take that view. I wonder if Don McWhinnie is acting as traffic cop in chief in Sicily, and if Durham and Elgar are there? If it’s true that the First Army are on the job, Jerry must have a bit of a headache wondering where the Eighth Army is.
Many thanks for your letter and I only hope your thunderstorm hasn’t ruined the things in the plot. You’ll have to excavate the soil from around the celery or it will get coarse and will never crisp. Soil should apparently be built up round it slowly. From what you say, however, the damage to growing things seems amazingly slight.
I was interested to hear of the experience of the Gardiners, but if I remember rightly you told me a long time ago that they knocked off her allowance more than his increase in the first week he got his promotion, even though he made no declaration to any authority and did not make any increase in her allotment. I’m certain that was what you told me. Anyway, several of our fellows have got away with it – two of them for several months to my knowledge. One thing to remember is that I have not told you anything about an increase in money!
I’m interested in your frock. What colour is it and what sort of material have you got? I presume that it is a summer frock.
We have not done very much that is of interest since I wrote on Friday. On Friday evening we went for a quiet drink and, although I was off on Saturday afternoon, I did nothing spectacular as it was raining so I went to bed! What we will do today is still very uncertain because I doubt if the weather will be fit for us to go far afield. Well, angel, I don’t think there’s any more news. Just one thing. You can now drop the O from my official rank so that letters in future should be addressed to Sig (A/M) AJohnson etc. Just a matter of dignity!
I’ll try to write the children in the next few days but in the meantime give them my love. Take good care of yourself, angel. I’m thinking of you a lot this week and missing you a lot, too. Let’s hope that this new move against Italy will bring the end of all this nonsense nearer. What a day that will be, wherever I am! And, by the way, there is no fresh news of the possible draft. And now, love, I must leave you. Take good care of yourself. All my love, sweetheart.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘the whole of this area seems to have been a place of attraction for cultured people’

Jul 121943
 

Monday
London
Dearest,
Today I’m beginning to feel, for the first time, one of the benefits of being raised to the exalted rank of signalman, for I have not had to turn in for the usual standby at 9.30. In effect it means you have the morning off, which makes a big difference as you may imagine. One snag is that I cannot answer your letter, but as the deliveries are so uncertain you had better continue to send my letters to the Admiralty, as there’s no certainty of them being delivered here before I leave about noon.
There is nothing exciting to report. As the weather was so uncertain yesterday we hung about the house until evening and then went out for a walk. We went to Chiswick Mall, an area which has many associations with artists and writers of the past, including people like Hogarth, Whistler, Garrick, Johnson, Thackeray – who is said to have found his inspiration for ‘Vanity Fair’ here. In Walpole House, Barbara Villiers, one of Charles the Second’s dames, is supposed to have lived and later, when it was a school, Thackeray went as a small boy and this is supposed to be the original of Miss Pinkerton’s Academy in ‘Vanity Fair’. The whole of this area seems to have been a place of attraction for cultured people over a couple of centuries. The Mall itself is an odd place such as you could only find in England – old Georgian houses obviously built on the riverfront by people of substance but now, in many cases, converted into headquarters of rowing or yachting clubs and sometimes into warehouses. And on what was evidently at one time a public right of way stand ugly factories. A bit of old England turned into an eyesore.
Jack and Dot were asking after you and the children yesterday and they will probably be coming to see you when they are on holiday. It might be as well to drop them a note and fix something up with them. So far as I can gather now, they are going to Southport on July 26 and will go from there to Mother’s on either August Sunday or Monday, staying there for a few days and coming back to London on the Thursday so as to have a couple of days in which to laze at home before going back to work. I think they will prefer to take things easily while they are in Southport so in making arrangements for them to come to see you I think I’d make it while they are at Litherland.
Now I must be off, sweetheart. My love to the children. Take good care of yourself, angel, for I love you so. All my love, sweet.
Ever your own
Arthur X

From Arthur to Wendy and Michael: ‘you mustn’t stay in the house too long in the nice weather, it’s not good for you’

Jul 141943
 

Wednesday
London
Dear Wendy & Michael,
I’m sorry I haven’t time to write you separate letters today as I’m very busy so I hope there will not be a lot of squabbling about this letter. Thank you for your letter telling me all about Judy and I hope you will be careful when she is under the fireguard in the garden not to let her out. She would be very frightened if you had to chase her to catch her again, wouldn’t she? And then, too, she might eat up all Mrs Bradley’s little cabbages, mightn’t she? Then she would be cross! You might put a branch off the poplar tree in her cage for her to keep her teeth sharp on. Do you remember seeing a branch in Uncle Bert’s hutches? I suppose that by the time I come home Judy will have grown quite big. She won’t know me, either, will she?
So Michael has got chickenpox now! Well I do think he might have been a little more considerate and have had it a bit earlier, don’t you? Never mind, son. So long as the weather is nice you will be able to play out in the garden soon, but only if the weather is nice. I hope you will be better soon. Mummy tells me that Wendy is practically better now. I’m glad you have got over it so well, love, and that you have been so good doing things for Michael, but you mustn’t stay in the house too long in the nice weather. It’s not good for you. Now I must write to Mummy. Be good children, won’t you? I hope Michael will be better soon.
Lots of love, from
Daddy

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I had a date with Jim Morris who wants to learn to dance and there is free tuition’

Jul 141943
 

Wednesday
London
Dearest,
I’m sorry there was no letter yesterday but it was like this: I went swimming after breakfasting in the Crypt and by the time I got home at about 1 o’clock and had lunch I was “wore out”. So, setting the alarm for 4 o’clock, I had a little shut-eye on the settee but only woke up when Dot came in! I was really mad because I had no time to write you then for the post had gone. Also I had a date at Richmond YMCA with Jim Morris who wants to learn to dance and who has discovered that there is free tuition there every Tuesday night, so I rolled along to bear him company. We didn’t stay very long but it was quite enjoyable. The place was full of sailors and Wrens from some local depot.
About the rabbit’s hay: as soon as the weather seems settled I’d be inclined to cut all you can and fill a dry sack with it to last you as far through the autumn as possible, because you’ll probably find straw hard to get hold of.
So far as Mother is concerned I can see no reason why you should keep up the pretence any longer. It never occurred to me that it was still on now that everything is cut and dried. In the course of this amicable visit(!) was there any reference to the bed? About money, I don’t think they will back date any decrease they make in your pay. Let me know at once if there is any change.
Sorry to hear Michael is worse than Wendy was and if there’s any doubt about him please do get Rees in. I know you will, of course. All that I’ve heard about treatment of chickenpox is that they should be kept in bed while there’s any temperature and that they should have plenty of drinks.
You seem to be unluckier in the weather than we have been, for although it has been dull and cold there hasn’t been a lot of rain lately.
Darling, I must go for several good reasons. I’m enclosing a letter for the children and will try to write you more fully tomorrow. Bye for now, angel, and all my love.
Ever your own
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘

Jul 151943
 

Thursday
London
Dearest,
How now, love? I’m sorry to know that brat of mine has been interfering with your sleep and it’s good to know that you think he’s a bit better now. I hope that for the sake of everyone he’s not going to be awkward and develop complications.
It’s like Monty Taylor to write to you, but why couldn’t he have got Mollie to do it? Has there been any story in the ‘Post’ or ‘Echo’ about it? As they seem to have a good story to tell, it seems funny that nothing has appeared, doesn’t it? Percy and his pal should have a good tale to tell between them. What did Monty have to say?
Once we were made full signalmen it was inevitable, of course, that there should be some change in the routine and now there is no-one on our watch to do stand-by, with the result that we all have to take it in turn. As the juniors, we start the rota and that means we have to go in at 9.30 tomorrow! It works out that we get every other stand-by morning off; in other words a lay-in once in eight days. Not so good as it might be, although the lads who are used to being off every fourth day will be swearing. We expected something like this, of course, but I thought they would only have brought two of us in, which would be ample for all there is to be done. That would have meant we would be free two out of three stand-bys. And while I’m on this question of work, will you try to remember that I won’t be at St Catherine’s Court on Monday as I’m working the three days off which I owe. Mac asked me if I would, knowing full well that I’d be within my rights in refusing, but as he evidently made a genuine error I couldn’t very well refuse. Even if he made a mistake deliberately it still has nothing to do with me for I wasn’t open to punishment for it. Anyway, I’ll be at work on Monday, so will you send my letter there, please?
I don’t think there’s much more in the way of news and I think I have covered all the points in your letter. Jim Morris and I went for a swim again this morning for the second time this week at the Marshall Street baths – quite a big place where lot of galas are staged. Two fellows in there were practising high diving – and they were very hot indeed – under the eye of a coach, a pale faced pansy looking lad who was the last person you’d expect to be an expert on any form of sport except one! I don’t know why he didn’t go in the water himself. Unless he wasn’t well!! Sorry, love!!!
We are expecting slops in the next week or so and as soon as I have paid for them I’ll see what money I have left and send most of it home to be stowed away in the old oak chest to be held in reserve for paying my fare home on my next leave. Happy thought. It’s just possible that will be about a couple of months from now.
I’m glad to hear your tomatoes have weathered the storms, but the rest of the stuff seems to have been knocked about a bit. Still, the peas should be growing even in this weather so don’t neglect to pull them before they get “woody”. It’s just begun a fine drizzle here so I’m glad I didn’t go to watch the lads play cricket today. There’s no fun in it this weather.
By the way, I have had a letter from Eric saying they would be seeing me on the 26th and that they are travelling down on the Monday and home on the Sunday to avoid the crowds. Personally I should have thought that Sunday would be even more crowded than Monday because there are fewer trains.
Now, sweetheart, I’m going to the post before the rain gets very heavy. Look after yourself, sweetheart, for, in spite of all banned subjects, I’m thinking about you a lot these days. I do hope you won’t get Michael’s complaint and that he will not be too big a handful for you. Take good care of yourself for me. A few more weeks and then we can start knocking days off the calendar. My love to the children and all my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘if the weather is decent it will be a nice change from being stuck underground here’

Jul 161943
 

Friday
London
Dearest,
There’s not much time today for anything other than to tell you not to bother writing to me here on Monday. I won’t be here because I’m on draft to – Shrewsbury! It’s only a short stay there, about three weeks, and so far as I can see it’s nothing but a labouring job, but the great thing is that I’ll probably be able to get home each weekend we are there. At the moment that is all I know about it, but I’ll probably know more about it in the morning as we leave here on Monday morning. As soon as we get settled down I’ll let you know how things stand. We’ll probably be some distance from Shrewsbury itself, but if the weather is at all decent it will be a nice change from being stuck underground here.
I’m sorry I’ve got to leave this so abruptly, but time’s short now. If I hear anything more before the post goes tonight, I’ll drop you a line, even if it’s only very brief. Bye for now. All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X
P.S. Thought you might like the enclosed genuine London lavender.

From Arthur to Stella: ‘if I can get the chance of something like store-keeper I’ll be on it like a bird’

Jul 171943
 

Saturday
London
Dearest,
Let me try to answer your letters while I have the chance, for time is rather crowded just now, as you may imagine, and I’m annoyed that I cannot take full advantage of the weather – real heat-wave stuff. But there’s so much to be done that it was impossible to go off to Lords, or to Windsor Races(!) and leave everything until I came home. In some ways, I’m sorry now that I didn’t.
By the way, did you hear about the old boy, a bachelor of forty years standing, and a bit of a lad not merely in his young days but even in the later days – and nights! Eventually he decided to marry and a few weeks after the wedding some of the lads in the local were chaffing him. “Still manage a bit of what you fancy, Arthur?” they asked. “Aye,” he piped in his shrill treble, “every night except Thursday.” “And why not Thursday?” asked one of the lads. “Oh,” came the reply, “the young feller as lifts me off is firewatching on Thursdays!”
A modern slant on an old story, eh?
Sure, love, March 30th is a date if it can possibly be managed. I’m sorry my children regard me as a standing joke, even in dancing. Tell ’em I’m ’uffed!
I’m so sorry to hear about May. Last time we saw her I thought she was looking a bit better than usual, but it has been obvious for some time that she is utterly neglecting herself and I doubt whether she will ever change no matter what you say to her. Probably the only one with any real influence over her is Harold. What does he think of her? Or perhaps you didn’t get much chance to exchange opinions of that nature. I’m glad to hear Harold is looking well, but he must be worried about your mother. Don’t worry about the tobacco. It’s bad luck but I know how easily these situations can arise.
Michael seems to be taking longer to get over this business than Wendy did, but I’m glad to hear that he is eating more now. How is he now? I do hope you are not going to have a lot of trouble with him.
I’m afraid I’ve only answered your letters very sketchily, but time is short and the mere effort of writing is tremendous in the weather. The heat is really scorching. After I had written you yesterday I saw the officer who is eventually going to be in charge of this new station, which he tells me is at Whitchurch and not Shrewsbury. Fifteen or eighteen miles nearer home, but perhaps not such a good place for really fast trains as Shrewsbury would be. But I’m not grumbling! The arrangements at the moment are that we leave on the Liverpool train on Monday morning – but we change at Crewe, just one hour away. Still, I’m getting nearer. When we first get there we’ll have neither beds nor food nor, so far as I can see, are they likely to be there during the first few days when we will have to find what accommodation we can locally. Quite apart from the fact that I’m coming nearer home, I’m really looking forward to this trip and if I get the slightest chance I’m going to carve myself out a cushy little billet there. If I can get the chance of something like store-keeper I’ll be on it like a bird. But all this is speculation leading nowhere really. The main thing is that there is a good chance of my being able to get home next weekend. Once I get settled down there, I’ll drop you a line giving you the low-down, but don’t be disappointed if there is a break of a day or two in my letters. In the meantime you could write me c/o Poste Restante, Post Office, Whitchurch, and just address it Sig AJohnson with my number. I’ll leave this letter open until Sunday so that I can add any further news there may be then. In the meantime, night night, sweetheart. Be a good lass and look after yourself. All my love, sweetheart.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘This is a nice quiet country hotel and has the makings of a very cushy spot’

Jul 181943
 

Sunday
The Hollies Hotel, Whitchurch, Salop
Dearest,
We arrived here a couple of hours ago to find the place completely barren of anything in the way of useful furniture – beds, bedding, etc. My own prayer at the moment is that I should be left here for the duration. This has been a nice quiet country hotel in peacetime and has the makings of a very cushy spot for anyone who is lucky enough to be dropped down here. I can’t see me lasting more than the three weeks because I don’t see how I can be fitted into the scheme of things for any longer, but I’m going to do my damnedest to dig myself in. It will be very quiet after London and there are no amusements so far as I can see, other than the old one of boozing, but it could make a very pleasant change from the dungeons of Whitehall.
It’s too early yet to say anything definite about the weekend, but I think it is fairly certain I shall be home Saturday at the latest, perhaps even by Friday night. But I’ll let you know about that later. Warning – no vapours at the weekend!
Dearest, I haven’t much time just now and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get an envelope to post this. So bye for now. Take care of yourself. How are the children? Hope Michael is better. All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘there is a cook who has nothing to cook, nothing to cook on, and nothing to cook in at the moment’

Jul 191943
 

Monday
R.N. Unit, The Hollies Hotel, Whitchurch
Dearest,
Back to normal routine letters once more. Many thanks for your letter, which I picked up at the Post Office this morning. We spent all day yesterday waiting for people who never arrived and are repeating the performance today. Our only visitor of importance yesterday was the railway carter, who brought 100 blankets. We put a pile of them on the floor for a bed and so were able to sleep here instead of having to find digs, which will put a few bob in our pockets! In all there were four of us yesterday – a very decent officer from Whitehall who left us more or less to our own devices and who has gone back today until a week on Thursday; a new P.O. who is easy to get on with and who is all for making money on the exes; a cook who has nothing to cook, nothing to cook on, and nothing to cook in at the moment; and little me. We are here to receive the bedding, furniture and mess traps; to see that the water is turned on, the gas and electric turned on, to order coal and coke; and to see that two civvy labourers who are coming do their job properly. In short, to see that the place is made really comfortable for the lads to live in when they do come. They will live here and work at the station about a quarter of a mile away. If they look after this place it should be a home from home. As I told you yesterday, it was formerly a private hotel and everyone round here says it was a really beautiful place. The grounds and glass houses have gone to rack and ruin now, but there are grapes, peaches and tomatoes in the greenhouses and against one wall of the cottage attached to the place is the most lovely pear tree I have ever seen, absolutely laden with what will be really choice dessert pears. All these, of course, are out of bounds and the officer has made a promise her property shall be respected. I, for one, won’t touch the stuff because she says it is grown for exhibition and that the fruit will be spoiled if pulled before it is ripe. She has promised to give the lads free access to it once it is ripe, but threatens dire penalties if anyone raids it before she gives the word “go”. And that, I think, is a very reasonable viewpoint, don’t you? I can’t see me getting any of the grapes, but with a bit of luck some of the pears may be ready before I go, although I think these King Williams don’t ripen properly until fairly late autumn. There are also two hard tennis courts here, which I expect our lads will be able to rent next season, and what has obviously been a nice back lawn which they can have the use of if they care to look after it. This dame seems to me a reasonable but practical woman who has come to distrust all the services because of the way the previous army occupant left the place 18 months ago. And I don’t blame her!
Now there you have the full story. I tapped our officer – Grossett – this morning about attaching me here permanently and he was all for it, but seemed to think that our old man in Whitehall wouldn’t wear it. He thinks that three weeks is about the limit, but he’s given me the weekend from some time Friday until Monday morning, so you can expect me home on Friday night certain! As you say – whoopee!
Now I won’t have time to answer all the points in your letter except to say I’m sorry that the children were so disappointed over the sports. It is a shame!
Now I must go. All my love, sweetheart. I’m trying hard not to anticipate Friday too much, but he – sorry, it – is hard, very hard!
Bye for now. My love to the children and behave yourself until Friday.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘What is all this about the ducks?’

Jul 211943
 

Wednesday
Whitchurch
Dearest,
I’ve just had a chance to collect your letter from the post office and as it is now well after 5 o’clock I won’t have much time for a long letter. Many thanks for Monty’s letters which I’ll try to remember to enclose in this. He fairly hands out the flannel, doesn’t he? And it tickles me the way he refers to me as your hubby, as if he didn’t know my name! Both the ‘Echo’ and the BBC seem to have wasted so much time over the story that it is a pity you didn’t do it and send it to Prince yourself!
What is all this about the ducks? You seem to take it for granted that I know all about it, but this is the first reference there has been to it in any of your letters. Yes I got your Sunday letter, if by that you mean the letter you wrote on Sunday. I take it you didn’t write to Whitehall for Sunday because of the danger of me not getting it.
I think all the queries in your letter have been answered in yesterday’s letter and by now you will know this is not a new AM station so I’m not likely to be here for very long. I don’t know what the prospects of leave during August weekend are but I should think they’ll be pretty thin because of the traffic ban and also because the officer will be arriving here for good on the Thursday before. Still, we will have to see what happens nearer the time.
There has been not a thing happening today but I do hope some of the stuff comes tomorrow or I can see me having to hang on until late Friday night or early Saturday morning. It’s too late for anyone now, I think. When I come home I’ll tell you about our rations experience.
Bye for now, love. I’m glad to hear the good news of the children. Tell them I’m looking forward to seeing Judy on Friday. Until then, sweetheart, be a good lass, won’t you? All my love once more.
Ever your own
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I am glad to hear of your success with the duck manure’

Jul 221943
 

Thursday
Whitchurch
Dearest,
Two minutes after posting your letter yesterday I got your last letter to Whitehall which had been forwarded to the wireless station down the road and was brought up here by hand. So that will settle your mind on that score. I don’t think there’s anything which needs an urgent answer, but I am glad to hear of your success with the duck manure. It is definitely stronger than farmyard stuff and is not suitable for some crops, but I should think a good idea would be to make a separate pile of it and if you are going to give a winter dressing to any of the vacant spots which are a bit poor in manure, you could spread that on the top and dig it in in spring. Anyway, we can talk about things like that on Friday – tomorrow! Will you think up any jobs you want doing while I’m home? One thing I will try to do is clear up the manure heap for you.
I was specially pleased to hear that the trike is back in commission again. Yes, you get 2/- per par in the ‘Day to Day’.
By the way, keep your hay spread out, not in a stack, to dry it.
There’s no need to say that I’m sorry about vapours – doubly sorry – but, like you, I’m never going to let it worry me again. That, too, we can talk over when I’m home. I’m sorry I can’t state any definite time of arrival but it depends on so many things here as to what time I can get away. As the stuff has been held up and is just beginning to arrive today, instead of Monday and Tuesday, we are well behind. We are held up mainly because none of the cleaning material has arrived, so that even if furniture does come we can’t arrange it permanently until the rooms have been cleaned out properly. If there is no cleaning material by noon tomorrow I MIGHT be able to get away then. We are situated right on the main road to Chester and Liverpool so I’m going to try hitching it instead of walking down to the station and waiting anything up to two hours for a train. So all I can say is that I might be home any time from about two onwards, but don’t wait dinner for me because things are too uncertain. Do you think you can arrange for Friday, Saturday or Sunday nights out? I’ll leave that with you.
Now I must do some work. Bye, sweetheart. See you tomorrow! All my love to you and the children.
Ever
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘the P.O. was glad to see me because he had been on his own all weekend and was full of nerves’

Jul 271943
 

Tuesday
Whitchurch
Dearest,
This is going to be a very brief note indeed because (a) this is the only sheet of paper I have; and (b) it is so late now that I’m going to have to rush to catch the last collection. I got into town and was at the Tunnel before 8 o’clock. Within 10 minutes I was on quite a fast lorry bound for Devon. The driver was a new man who has never been further south than Chester and so I was able to help him a bit. As he was going down there unladen we made good time and I was in here by about 9.30. Good going that – less than two hours from door to door.
When I got in, the P.O. was glad to see me because he had been on his own all weekend and was full of nerves after sleeping alone! He’s talking about going home this weekend but I can’t give you any idea of what will happen until the officer comes up on Thursday. Could you find the number of one of the Crosby phone boxes and make a date for sometime after six on Friday night? I’d know definitely then how I’m fixed. We have been mad busy this last two days, but I’ll try to write more fully tomorrow.
Bye for now, love. All my love to you and the children.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘now, and until I’m out of uniform, I belong to the navy – no matter what mental barriers I erect against it’

Jul 281943
 

Wednesday
Whitchurch
Dearest,
Perhaps I’d better begin at the end of your letter so as to be sure of getting it answered. First of all, a nark. You swore to me that there was nothing worrying you and there was. I knew all the time you were lying even with all your protestations, but I decided to let it be. As I evidently couldn’t get it from you then, I decided it would come out sooner or later, but I’m disappointed because I would much sooner get these things settled in person rather than by letter. Anyway, here goes. Many months ago, probably in a moment of depression, I warned you that you would probably find that I had changed from the time I first went away. Well I probably have and that will to some extent account for a feeling that I don’t “belong” there any more. Nor, to be honest, do I belong there. Now, and until I’m out of uniform, I belong to the navy. No matter what mental barriers I erect against it, I can’t keep the navy out when they can and do control my life 24 hours a day. That has something to do with it and I think you will find most servicemen suffer consciously or unconsciously from it to some extent. But this is only one thing – the mental background, so to speak. Perhaps at the back of my mind is a form of resentment at being dragged away from Morningside, and each time I come home I’m reminded of how much I’m missing. The children, for instance, are growing up, forming new ideas, making new friends and slowly developing their characters. In all of this I have no share – except to make Wendy cry twice in three days! You make friends who bolt as soon as they see me! Now all of this, you may say, has nothing to do with the house, but it has, for the house is the place where it is all happening and I’m quite sure that if, when the war is over and I come home for the last time, I am certain that my job will allow us to remain in that house then I’ll take more interest in it than ever. Any house where you and the children are will always be home to me. But I wonder if you can see that all this mixture of resentment against the present and uncertainty about the future makes it difficult for me to take a really keen interest in the house?
Now, as to your side of it. For one thing you should never have made yourself so ill in doing the kitchen. That was sheer lunacy, which did nothing to make me happier, did it? Almost it was a venomous expression of spite against our joint failure to fulfil your deep desire. But one of the worst sides of your story is the implication that if I had never commented on the state of the kitchen you would never have bothered about it! Surely, love, that isn’t so, is it? If it is then it means you have lost interest even more than I have. My lack of interest, such as it is, originates wholly in the fact that I know whenever I come home that I’m only there for a few days, whereas you have the incentive of living there constantly.
Dearest, I’m not very sure that I’ve said the right thing in the right way in this letter – there have been a dozen or more interruptions in the course of it – but let me sum up like this: Morningside is still home to me; I’ll admit I’m not as interested as I was because I feel whenever I’m home that I haven’t time to do all that I’d like to do in it and so, very often, I end up by not doing anything. But you must also believe that once I get home for good – or even if I get a permanent post near enough to be home regularly – that interest would very soon revive and I’m sure of this, that when I am home for good I’ll take more interest in the home than ever I did. If I’ve given you the impression that your hard work in the home is not appreciated, I’m sorry love, because I DO appreciate it very deeply. In defence of my criticism of the house I can only say they really prove I AM interested! YOU haven’t gone wrong anywhere, it’s ME with my selfish attitude that, simply because “I can’t be at home sometimes for months on end then I’m not going to be as interested as I was”. It’s wrong to say I’m not interested or that I don’t belong. My interest may have waned a little through being away, but I think that’s all that has happened so for goodness sake don’t you lose interest or we ARE sunk!
Darling, I’m sorry about all this and even more sorry that you evaded the issue when I was home and knew there was something on your mind, for it is very difficult to thrash these things out satisfactorily on paper. I only hope I’ve not made things worse! I hate to think of you being made miserable through my selfishness or even thoughtlessness and this is the part of being away from home that makes me more unhappy than anything else.
Many thanks for your letter, love, and for the amusing account of the cats in the pram. Now you have got your feet in with “Day to Days”, try to keep it up. One every other day means an extra 6/- a week. I know you don’t really need the money, but…! Another good point is that looking for a par like that every other day will be a good mental exercise.
There is little to tell you from here except to say that when I got back on Monday I found all the cleaning materials – hard soap, disinfectant, scouring powder, long-handled scrubbers, brooms and brushes, scrubbing brushes, floor cloths – 70 yards of it – and three dozen buckets, as well as two zinc baths had arrived. So there was no excuse for further laziness and in the last three days we have had an orgy of cleaning. My hands are raw with the effects of soda etc. Is there anything special you’d like in this line? Let me know and if possible I’ll try to get it for you. If I can’t, well it can’t be helped. Don’t worry, I won’t take any risks. As I told you yesterday, I can’t do anything about the weekend until after tomorrow. If the officer wants me to work over the weekend on stores with him it will be too bad, but I won’t be able to grumble because we had such a lazy time during our first week here. Anyway, if you have made a phone date with me for Friday I should be able to give you a good idea then.
Bye for now, angel. Hope you are feeling better now. My love to the children. All my love to you, sweetheart.
Always your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘there’s a possibility of getting home for the weekend’

Jul 291943
 

Thursday
Whitchurch
Dearest,
In very great haste as we have been busy with the officer until now. There’s a possibility of getting home for the weekend. I’m relying on a phone number from you. From what I have seen on the station here and heard of the mobs at London and Crewe, Sunday is definitely off for you and the children. MAY be here some time yet.
Love,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘

Jul 301943
 

Friday
Whitchurch
Dearest,
I’m sorry to hear about the table. From what you say it is in a pretty bad state but I’ll have a look at it when I come home. It’s no good grieving about it. The only thing is that it points out the need for a fire insurance of some sort. You’d better ask about it, I think.
I envy you your day on the shore. It seems ages since I was there last and even longer, almost in another existence, since we had a day at the baths together.
As I said yesterday, after seeing the crowds on even small stations any possible trip here on Sunday is definitely off. You know how small Whitchurch station is. Well, it took me a solid five minutes to walk half the length of the platform when carrying the officer’s suitcase. It was solid with people and our officer tells me that many people were left behind at Crewe! That station was in absolute turmoil. If you did come, the day would be spoiled for me because I’d be worrying about how you would get home again and the children would be tired out before the day was half over.
One of the first things Grossett told me when he arrived was that I was here “for a little longer” but that he had been unable, as yet, to persuade Mylward, at Whitehall, to transfer me to the books here. But he added, “I haven’t given up all hope although it looks fairly hopeless at the moment”. Anyway, he’s going to do all he can and has succeeded in avoiding having to send me back to Whitehall this weekend as Mylward wanted him to do. Personally, I have my doubts about him being able to get hold of me permanently.
I’m writing this before dinner and at the moment cannot tell you what that chances for the weekend are likely to be. I may not know even today because we are still hanging on waiting for stores to arrive and are still without beds although mattresses did arrived yesterday.
Later: The beds – two-tier metal bunks which have to be bolted together – have arrived and they hold out the prospect of so much work that I doubt if I’ll be able to get away at the weekend. But failing that I think Grossett will let me away for a couple of days during the week as he mentioned this as an alternative yesterday. That, of course, would do next weekend in completely as the P.O. here wants to get away on a long weekend then. If Grossett can keep me here until then, however, travelling may have eased off a bit and perhaps you could all come over then. If only these damned beds, which have been on the railway since the 20th, had arrived two days earlier I should have been away this afternoon until Tuesday morning! If at the last minute I can get away I will, so when you go out leave a note to say where you are but DON’T stay in for me as I doubt if I can make it. Bye, angel.
All my love,
Arthur X