Thursday 23 July 1936
Eaton Avenue
Stella, my dear,
So sorry to have had to rush that letter – if one can dignify it by such a term – last night, but I thought at the time that even a note would be more welcome than utter silence. Now, I’m not so certain! But really it was hopeless. This was the position. I was on inquests for the ‘Express’ at 11am and worked for them until noon. Then I just walked across the road to the ‘Echo’, where I was due to work from noon until 8pm. Unfortunately, Geddes, who is their regular night man, lost an argument with the propeller of an aeroplane the previous night and was distinctly lucky to escape merely with head injuries. The result was that I had to go from noon until midnight. During the day things were very slack, but at night I was sent off to a meeting protesting about the new P.A.C. regulations. In addition I had to make calls twice during the evening on the police and fire brigade and eight hospitals. All this apart from my own Bootle calls and a few pars which had to be rewritten from the ‘Echo’. Now you know all that, I’m sure you’ll appreciate how little time I had to spare. I didn’t even get supper and arrived in the Press Club at 11.48pm, which left just two minutes before my last bus went. Still, I managed to knock back one quick one.
I’m sorry about Sunday but at the moment things do look rather difficult, especially as the sister will be home from the Potteries and the brother is coming up from Stroud to get a new car the firm has bought for him. These things always come along together.
What a timetable you have had this week! Did you touch for a swig of hallowed beer? Or don’t they trust visitors in the wine cellar? Don’t forget my sandals – size five boot and size six shoe! – and also a beer tankard. If you put on a coat with poachers’ pockets you should be able to get away with them all on the one visit.
By the way – I nearly forgot to apologise for not seeing you off on Monday but I started my Waterfront stuff in the ‘Express’ office soon after 8.30am on Monday and it was 10am before I was through with it. If I had broken off in the middle of it to go to Woodside I would not have had it done by lunchtime, which is far too late.
This seems to be all work, doesn’t it? I suppose it’s because I seem to do nothing but sleep and work these days. What a treat it would be to be able to sit still for two whole hours without any need to talk or write or even think! At the moment that is my conception of heaven. I think I really must have a couple of days absolute rest in the next couple of months or I will be an absolute nervous wreck before I even begin to face the winter.
So Mollie didn’t know what it is to make whoopee. If she did she would (a) understand just how things are; and (b) certainly not send her love to any so ungrateful and unworthy wretch as myself. By the way – exactly what interpretation can be placed on a nun’s love? A pretty little poser for you my sweet!
Now I really must be off to the galley again. Whatever else you do, drop me a line without fail, to reach the Club by Saturday, telling me what time you are getting in to Liverpool on Sunday and what your arrangements are likely to be for the early part of next week.
All my love,
Arthur X
Jul 231936