Sunday
Home
Stella dear,
It won’t be long now! Only one more night then home again. And then there’ll be months and months and months at the very least before we have the same business over again. Be ready when I come to collect you, I’ll be there on the dot. Today has seemed longer than ever, for with the heavy rain and generally miserable weather, golf has been out of the question. It’s lousy with nothing to do but sit down and wait for the time to pass, because it never does seem to pass somehow. I think this must be worse than waiting for a husband to come in from the Club!
I’m sorry I forgot the enclosed whatnot, but I had hung it in the wardrobe so that some of the creases would fall out of it. Being young, sweet and innocent I should have been more careful with the list instead of trusting to my Pelman-trained memory.
Don’t have any more fits of the blues, will you? You were down in the dumps last night. If only I could have turned in with you! Oh boy! As it was, I slept at Litherland and as I had no pyjamas there – and was sleeping alone – it was not so tropical. Does that wake a pang of pity in your breast – or should one say nipple now?
I have aired all the things in the cot today so it should be okeydoke for tomorrow. Don’t know whether you will agree with the way I have fixed the cot, but if not then I’ll do it again.
Bye now, sweet. Be a good lass and keep that dainty chin, surmounted by that famous rosebud mouth, well up until tomorrow. It’s much less than twenty-four hours off now.
As ever, your
Arthur X
X for Wendy
Apr 111937