Friday 1.30am
Eaton Avenue
Stella Dear,
Things have been rather slow since the Bank Holiday and I have waited in vain for another letter. What has happened, sweet? Have you become intrigued with Sloane or Mr Whatever-his-name-is already? Or is it the neck? Or is Mickey growing too big for himself? Or is it just that you can’t be bothered writing? Now there’s a list of questions that offer opportunities for writing reams in reply. Diabolical cunning I calls it and are you mortified?
You will have to make all due allowances if I seem a little light-headed. I spent all morning and part of the afternoon listening to a rape case in Dale Street court. For all that, I got home unusually early, made my own tea (the parent being on holiday) and went out to the local for a quick one. When I got back I felt really restless, probably through having a little unaccustomed leisure, so I started three short stories, all of which have since gone up the chimney in smoke! I had hoped to strike a decent line and make a couple of extra guineas, but the muse is only working on a short shift tonight. She will take me so far up the path and then leave me standing all alone in an absolute maze. Isn’t that like a woman?
I have all sorts of good intentions about earning a little extra here and there, but somehow or other I have not the powers of concentration which are so necessary.
Sunday
The muse has deserted me altogether and if you only knew what an effort it is to write at all you would become highly conceited.
On Friday I went to bring parent home from Fleetwood and you should have seen the bags and parcels! Thousands of them. With the weather being so foul she and my aunt had been able to get out very little, but they discovered a crockery shop which was being sold up by an auctioneer and they must have spent days in the place judging from the amount of stuff they collected. It almost seemed as if they knew about my bottom drawer for, in addition to my rug, I now have: drinking goblet (one); decorative jug (one); Wedgwood candlestick (one); ash tray (one). And the very first thing their landlady asked when I got there was whether or not I had found myself a wife while I had had the house to myself. Can you beat that!
I was glad to hear the good news that the neck has yielded to treatment. If only the other had! Like you I feel sick and helpless at times when I think of all there is to be done and, what is worse, the short time we have to do it all in. Go soon, dear, to see the vet. Although there seems little doubt about it now we must know just where we stand and the sooner the better. Hunt out the registry office and see what the cost is. I’ll be down to see you before then but I don’t know just when. On August 15th I take over from Walker for several of the national papers at nights. That will run until the 25th. So it seems to me that, if I am to manage it, the best thing is for me to come down during the week. If I can find a cheap trip shall I come? Or will you be working every night? Perhaps the best thing would be for you to drop me a line saying which is likely to be your best night.
What about phone calls to the office? Are they permitted, and what time am I likely to find you in? Let me have answers to some of these questions as soon as you can, sweet, and then I’ll do my best to get down, if it’s only for a couple of hours. I don’t know whether I will be down for the Show or not but as soon as I hear I will let you know.
Glad to hear the chin is well up. I’m doing my best to keep mine a little above the waist line! If I was to get a telegram now I’m afraid it would go so high that I would snap my neck!
All the best, sweet. Drop me a line and we’ll get the whole thing straightened out somehow.
Love, ever,
Arthur