Feb 261942
 

Thursday Night
Skegness
Sweetheart,
I’m just dashing a note off so that you will be sure to have something for the weekend. Will you let me know, by the way, if letters bearing a Friday postmark reach you by Saturday!
Thursday is about our worst day. We are on the go all day but instead of finishing at 4.30 we have lectures until 6 o’clock  and no one is allowed ashore during the evening. The result is that the mess is always crowded and right now there are 1,500 fellows dancing with each other or bellowing all the popular songs at the tops of their voices while our own danceband – and a good one too – blares out about five yards from my elbow. But this is the only place where I can possibly write. There have been one or two impromptu turns by some of the lads and a “snotty” has just told a story about a camel which went with a great swing.
Many thanks for the V sign! Hope things are not too bad for you. Why do you always pick days like that for a heavy day’s work? When you wrote about the first day’s washing drying in the garden I came over all nostalgic. It brought back such a vivid picture of home! And, like you, I have been building up a mental wall. I dare not think of some things. Peculiarly enough, you mentioned the back of my neck. Sometimes I get a picture of you bent over the bath in the evening, or perhaps at the sink and I do so want to put my hands beneath your breasts and kiss the back of your neck. Just to feel you tremble as I do that, or as I run my fingertips over the back of your frock! Sweetheart, it’s a fortnight nearer that moment! By the way, how is the evidence? Look after it because I think I would be regarded askance if I went to the sick bay to get any while I’m here. Just to think of it has given very forcible evidence that if there is any bromide in our food it must have perished a long time ago!
How is Wendy’s head? I do hope she has not done any real damage. Is Michael fit? And are they both behaving themselves?
I’m afraid I’ll have to finish now. If I get a chance – I doubt it – I’ll drop a few more lines in the post in the morning, but I want to be sure of this getting away. Many thanks for all your letters. You have been an angel. You realise now, of course, that I have had them all. Perhaps over the weekend I may get a chance to write another fairly long one. If there is a gap of a few days in between my letters, you will realise I have gone into sick quarters again, to have my teeth out – a fairly long job here. If I don’t have them out before Saturday I’m going into Skegness to have me photy took before the shape of my face alters! Have you realised that when I do come home I will be all gummy? It will make a very big difference you know!
All for now, my darling. Look after yourself. My constant dread is that you should be ill and me not there. Hug the children for me.
All my love,
Arthur XXX
P.S. Heard from Mother today and Dot two days ago.