Wednesday
Aberdeen
Dearest,
The date has just reminded me we are in to another month! Won’t be long now, love, providing the war is still going on! At the rate we are backing out of places there’ll soon be nowhere left to fight in except England. I’ve not had a chance yet of reading any of the parliamentary debate, but I’ll bet there’s some “doit” flying around.
I’m so glad the letter arrived in time to chase away the blues. As you know, I’d write much more often if I was not so blinking busy. I feel very guilty about my correspondence. There is stacks of it waiting to be done but, without giving up what little leisure time I have, there’s no chance of getting the pile down. I feel some relaxation out of doors is more necessary than ever just now and the little golf I have played has done me lots of good. In fact I’m going for 9 holes with Mr Smith and Ralph tonight. The Smiths, by the way, never fail to ask after you on the rare occasions I see them these days. I have been neglecting the Grants, too. As soon as I get a free week I’ll see both of them and also get my letters done. Here’s Ralph for me now. Bye for the moment, love.
Thursday
So you got your tomatoes after all? I’m very glad, and although it’s a bit late in the season you should get some fruit from them. Before you buy any other “food” for them, have a good look round to see there is none either on the kitchen shelf or in the garage. I’m not sure whether we used up the packet we bought last year. That dried blood is as good as anything I know of. The white grubs Mrs Reid found on the cauliflower are the grub of the cabbage fly and that is the reason why plants on the soil round the roots should be burned. Otherwise they hatch out into more cabbage fly. If they were as big as you say they must be pretty well advanced. How are the blackcurrants and raspberries progressing? Don’t worry about the cabbage. You’ll probably save quite a lot of them but, if you remember, the savoys did not do awfully well last year, so don’t worry if yours are not too hot.
So little Stanley joins Butlin’s Navy? Well, well! Won’t Audrey be pleased. I can well imagine Mrs Johnson’s feelings towards her. What a comparison between the two of them and, I must admit, Mrs Johnson only voices the feelings of several people on the score of income. What a nice sort of lodger to have. I’ll say this for her: she’s a good picker.
Well, at this point I had to break off and I heard a little thing which made me think I may be home for leave much earlier than we expected. When we drew our new issue of tobacco today the chief told me to leave mine on one side – usually taken as an indication of an early departure for one’s base. Nothing more was said, but it looks to me as if I’m due for a move as they evidently think I’m not so hot. Anyway, if I do go back to my base I’ll probably get leave almost immediately. I can’t make up my mind whether to appeal against it or not. Anyway, don’t say anything to anyone for the moment, but if I do get a move I’ll wire you so as to save you writing letters which may not reach me. If I am going I’ll certainly know by the weekend so you will probably have received this letter before my wire. In other words, if you have received a wire saying “going Devonport today” you’ll know what it is all about. I will feel very disappointed if it is so, after all the work I have put in here, but it looks to me as if they are tightening things up a good deal all round now, judging by the number of people who have gone back from here recently. Almost it looks as if they are not prepared to spend too much time and trouble on people.
Anyway, it may mean that I’ll be home all the sooner. If I do ask to stay on they may push me back still another class! Within the next 24 hours I shall know my fate, so if you don’t receive a wire by Saturday you’ll know the whole thing has only been a scare.
I have started a letter to Michael but if I cannot get one finished to Wendy I won’t enclose it in this letter.
Well, sweet, this is all for now. Look after yourself. I’ll be seeing you one of these fine days.
All my love, angel.
Ever your own,
Arthur X