Tuesday
London
Dearest,
I’ve spent most of the morning getting Wendy’s sweets, writing to her and parceling up her few things and it’s now almost post time, so I hope you will forgive this rushed letter. Thank you for the letter which was waiting for me when I got back from Palmers Green on Sunday night. It was a nice climax to a pleasant lazy day during which we stuffed ourselves with food and lazed in front of a big fire. George had, it turned out, invited several of the Wrens whose homes are away north, but only Nicky, an ingenuous Scot, turned up. George and I went for a very short walk with the dog in the afternoon and left Nicky who, like George, had been up since soon after 3 (it seemed half an hour later with the clock going on, but actually we all worked half an hour less and slept half an hour less!) asleep in front of the fire. She was still asleep when tea was served! She’s a nice kid, but I’ve an idea she is literally giving herself body and soul to the fighting lads of all nations. She is just the type who would respond to the argument that the lads should have their way today because tomorrow they may be dead. There’s no argument against it, either, because two of them ARE dead. A commando and a Canadian pilot, shot into the sea by a U-boat he attacked. That’s where ordinary arguments fall down with these girls who might well argue “I’ve given him more pleasure and satisfaction than all the isms and ologies”. But, for all that, I feel sorry for Nick for she has apparently deliberately given up a very nice, sound Scots boy since she met all these loafing colonials in London. And deep down she misses him.
I’ve just seen the clock. I must rush, love. There’s no point in Sunday’s letter calling for immediate reply, but I hope you have sold some of your “best letter” pieces and your Day to Days. And by now you may know if it WAS the sardines!
In Wendy’s parcel there is the marge and also a quarter pound of lemonade powder as well as a few things Dot has sent for the feast – blancmange and custard powder. Jack and Dot are sending Wendy a very nicely illustrated book. I think that is all there is. I thought that so long as you know the marge was there you could wait until Wendy opened her parcel on Thursday – not before.
No letter so far today but I’ll expect it now at tea time. In haste, darling. All my love to you, stagnant or fluid.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
Dear Wendy,
A very happy birthday to you, sweetheart. I hope you will have a very nice party and that you will get lots of cards and presents. So far most of your presents seem to be books, but I know you will enjoy reading them all on wet days. Has it been raining at home this week? It has rained a lot here for the first time since Christmas and it has only just come in time to help the farmers, whose cows were not getting enough grass so that they may have to make the milk ration less.
Have you started to help Mummy with the weeding in the plot yet? You have all been going out so much lately to the theatre, to the doctor’s, to the hospital and to Grandma’s that I suppose I will have to spend all my leave pulling weeds out of the plot! I will have to write and tell Nana to send you home to work in the garden when you go to see her, won’t I?
I have not had a letter from you yet telling me about ‘Peter Pan’. If one does not come today, young woman, there will be trouble in the camp!
Are your eyes better now, love? I do hope they are. I have told you before that you are more trouble than all my money and I really think I will have to put you in the bin one of these fine days! Now I must wrap this parcel up and post it. Once more, many happy returns, love, and have a nice birthday. I will be thinking of you at tea time. Bye bye and lots of love from
Daddy X