Friday
Dover
Dearest,
I think I’m up to date with your correspondence except for your letter which was waiting for me when I came in on Wednesday night and which I didn’t have time to answer before going on watch yesterday. Did you get Jane’s letter back, by the way?
I’m glad you changed your mind and were considerate in that letter, by the way, for like you I don’t think I could stand a great deal of tantalisation just now. Looking through that letter there are a few points to answer, one of them being that, as I’ve already told you, I do write at least every other day, but the watches here are rather different from what we have been used to and though they are not difficult to keep they seem to leave less time for things like letter writing, especially as there are not the facilities we had in London, of course! Still, you’ve been in the credit side with letters for a long time, haven’t you? Sorry to hear Michael has broken the spell with a return of his cough, though I must confess I don’t like the idea of him being off every time he coughs. However, as you are on the spot, you know best. The school seems to have done very well with scholarships. Anyone we know? I’ll remember Michael’s enthusiasm for Rupert and if I can get hold of one next year I will do. I feel very helpless not being able to do something about his apparent musical ability and it’s things like that which make me writhe about being away from home, for the next couple of years would be the most important for him in that way. Being away, of course, I should know nothing of these tendencies if it were not for you, because if you ask him to “perform” when I’m home he just gets into that wild mood of his and infects Wendy with it too. Have you any idea about encouraging him to train his memory and ear in that particular direction? If you have, I’ll be interested. But there’s one thing I’ll never suffer for Michael or anyone else and that is bagpipes.
Before you begin your next grand clearance you should bind and gag Wendy or she will never let you throw even an old rag out of the house! I’ve never seen such a little hoarder, have you? And you know she never uses half the things, but just saves them until the next clearance comes along. Mrs Gardner, however, is really wicked to throw away toys many a child would treasure. Why on earth doesn’t she give them to some organisation like the W.V.S.? They could make good use of them for, despite all the government promises, there is no doubt the same old ramp in toys will be allowed this Xmas again.
I have very grave doubts about getting a copy of ‘Housewife’ here. I doubt if 5% of the population of Dover can read! I know what you mean by ‘Modern Woman’. Sorry to jump about like this, but you should have buried the boot well into that insurance bloke, if only to teach him his place where widows of service people are concerned. I wish I had been there!
About my tummy. It’s OK now and I’ll be going to the vet in the course of the next day or two to sign off. When I went to him it was my back which was worrying me most, but he more or less ignored that and concentrated on my tummy, diagnosing gastritis. No, it’s not bad food nor explosions. It’s the logical sequel to a couple of years of irregular meal times. At Whitehall we never had our meals at the same time on two successive days and that is hopeless for lots of people. About 80% of the police force, for instance, suffer in this way at one time or another. As I told you in an earlier letter, the food here is, on the whole, very good, but is not often hot. Don’t worry, I’d drip as only I can drip.
I’m glad to hear that Ernest has at last found use for his talents, for no matter how good you are, there’s always the danger of going rusty these days without practice. One of our blokes at Admiralty was a commercial artist and his ability in this direction saved him from a couple of drafts! It’s surprising really that Ernest has not clicked before, for the RAF seem to go for that sort of thing in a big way.
And I think that covers all of yesterday’s letter but, before I forget, many thanks for the bathing costume which arrived yesterday evening. I can’t remember leaving it at home and thought I must have lost it. Just now the weather is certainly not bathing weather! And also while I remember, I want to ask for something I have been going to mention for days – a face flannel. I’m desperate, having lost mine a week ago, and it makes a lot of difference to the colour of one’s towels. Perhaps one of the children could make me a present of one. Failing that, you might get hold of some baby napkin cloth and sew one up for me. In any case, let me have it as soon as you can, please. I’m lost without one.
Just before I push this into the post – I want to catch the “morning” collection if I can – can you tell me if Monty Taylor broadcast from the invasion forces on Wednesday? I heard a radio as I was passing an open window and I should have sworn it was his voice. I see, by the way, that Vernon Brown no longer seems to be the ‘News Chronicle’ alleged naval reporter and is now a Combined Press representative. There’s a daft paragraph from him in the ‘Mail’ this morning. Just the sort of nonsense he used to write in the old days of IRA and Thetis. Happy days – and nights!
Off to the post now, love. Give my love to the children just to remind them that they have a Daddy. And all my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
Jun 091944