Monday
Glasgow
My darling,
How now? Hope the blues are not too bad and that by the time you get this you are more or less back into your normal swing. I had the feeling when I left that you were in for a bad dose of the blues and for that reason felt a bit vicious about things. I was sorry to have to leave you in that frame of mind because it takes the gilt off the leave, especially when it has been an unexpected break like that. Whenever I see you depressed or feeling blue I always do get bad tempered with everything and everybody. You have probably noticed that I snap at you and the children sometimes because of it. Never mind, love, this course is nearly finished now. I was only saying to one of the lads this morning that there are only three more days before we start this week’s tests and then that will only leave us with a fortnight to do. Looked at in that light the course is as good as finished and in a very short time we will be southbound in a train once more. Talking about trains I slept the whole way up here and if I had not had young Harry with me I would still have been in the train at Preston where we had to change, for he had a job to waken me. That was probably the beer as well as night exercises for I got a fair load before I left. I just got to the “B.S.” in time to have two drinks and – being very mercenary – I am glad I did, for it meant another ten bob to me. When I got into town Fisher had gone over to Willie Cockburn’s so I missed him but I went up to the Club for a drink and I took young Harry and Hughie up with me. I think Hughie enjoyed the break. Georgie Porgie sends his kind regards and says he has had a book for Michael for about six months but has not had time to get out with it. And guess who was in the Club? Don McWhinnie, who also sends his salaams and also threatens to come out and see you before he leaves Liverpool. He is there on official business but expects to be away from there in five or six days and then he is off abroad, but he knows not when or where. You know he is a captain on the transport side with the commandos – well he was in the Dieppe stunt but won’t talk. He was, as usual, a bit boozed last night but even then he was not saying anything. All he would say was that he was glad he was boozed for the whole four days – in fact it was the only possible state to be in and carry on, he says. He was sorry he had left Glasgow before you got there and is going to reprimand the War Office about it. Incidentally, Durham is up here in Stirling which is, I believe, within a bus ride of here so I am going to write him today and it will have to be forwarded from his home so there is just the possibility that he will be able to slip over and see me before we leave. One of the Scots lads here says it is only an hour on the train from here.
This letter is, I’m afraid, very disjointed and very badly typed but, despite the sleep I had on the train, I can hardly keep my eyes open and there is all this afternoon to go yet! Oh dear, oh dear. Thank goodness we have an understanding instructor. It does help such a lot and thank goodness too that this is a touch-typing course, for I have my eyes closed while I am doing this and I am nearly asleep. I do hope you can make some sense out of this letter. I am going to stop in a minute and I will post it on the way back to dinner.
Darling, I do hope you are all right now. I felt funny leaving you last night, almost as if there was some sort of cloud over us or something indefinable between us. Did you by any chance feel the same thing? If ever you do feel anything like that and you know the reason for it, please tell me and we will thrash it out.
And now, love, it is almost dinner time and I shall have to leave you. Hope you don’t mind the typing but I doubt if you would be able to read anything I wrote today and I want to get this off so that you are sure to get it first thing in the morning. Take good care of yourself, love, and the next time I come home we will have longer together and will be able to plan things a bit better. In some ways though, a weekend is better than a full week’s leave because people cannot expect you to give up much time, whereas so many people expect to see you on a week’s leave. There goes the signal to pack up work so I’m off, love. Bye, my angel. I love you still so take care of yourself.
All my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur
Oct 051942