Monday
Aberdeen
Sweetheart,
I put the heading and date on this letter more than two hours ago, but the usual thing happened. The room filled up and I abandoned all hope of starting this for some time, but in the lulls of several cross-conversations – with your Limedale training you would be in your element here – I re-read all your recent letters. What a happy job, but one for which I should have preferred a little “hush”. I’m making a start on this letter tonight in the hope that before I post it tomorrow I’ll get at least some of your points answered.
But before I go on to your letters, I thought you’d like to know that I’m settling down a bit better in this new class, although I still don’t like the instructor. He is scared stiff of anyone in authority and he makes the work very hard and monotonous by keeping us at it for such long stretches without a break. Still, we had our S.B.X. this morning and even though he is such a lousy “sender”, and lousy is only one name the lads have called him today, I think I have done a little better this week, although I’m almost afraid to say so because I have thought that so often and then been sadly disillusioned. I might be able to tell you tomorrow just how I have done.
Tuesday
We were at cricket this afternoon so still don’t know the result of the S.B.X., but there is a good story about the one Class 14 (my old class) had on Monday. Apparently quite a lot of the forward ones, who usually do very well, fell rather heavily so they had another one today at a slower speed and all did very well! What it is to have influence.
But that’s enough about school, so let me begin to acknowledge various things. First of all the cake, which arrived Monday midday and is very nice indeed. The two postal orders, only one of which has so far been acknowledged. The marmalade, which is lovely and greatly appreciated by Percy and Allan, the other occupants of our table. And, finally, the watch which arrived today in good condition. Will you thank Mother for having it done? And that, I think, is all the things I have to mention just at the moment. Now, about the food stuff from here. Will you let me know if and when you want any more sending and I’ll get them for you. Don’t forget. I told Percy of my idea to collect household things which are in short supply and he scoffed at the idea at first, but mentioned it casually in a letter to his mother who immediately seized on the idea of brushes, which are quite unobtainable in London. It was rather a shock to Percy to find that the provinces should have things when London has not got them! And talking of buying things, you must have had a pretty heavy time lately with the doctor’s bills etc, so you’ll have to be careful in the expenditure. Don’t think of sending anything more to me for some considerable time. You have no margin to spare just now. What are you going to do about a bed for Michael? That will cost a bit these days. Will you have a look at the saleroom, or are you afraid of all the complications it will bring with it? Let me know what you decide.
As I’m writing this at school I’d better not start on the plot, but I’m enclosing a cutting from one of this week’s evening papers which may be of interest to you. I suppose you see very little of the gardening tips these days?
How are the children now? Has Michael’s appetite improved, or is his cough still bad? And what of Wendy’s abscess? Has there been any further development about the tooth? I hope they are more lively now, but perhaps you don’t want them to get too full of beans until they are out in the company of other children! If the weather at home is anything like it has been today, you’ll be able to let them out in the garden all day. It was beautiful today, for the first time for over a fortnight. We played cricket and it was really delightful. I’m glad you were able to brighten Cynthia’s birthday a little. Poor kid, I feel sorry for the way she seems to miss the essential things of childhood – Xmas, birthdays, Shrove Tuesday etc. It’s the more surprising, too, as Mrs Reid was the life and soul of her own family in her early days, wasn’t she? And talking of family life, you can bet your life I most certainly will be shaving when you are bathing the children. It is one of the little things I have been looking forward to, and I have no doubt the old and withered hand will stray in caress as of yore. Just try and stop me. Just to think of that does things to me. I’d better try a little dose of Morse as a non-too-gentle correction.
Ten minutes later – like your digging in the plot, the Morse is as soul killing as anything I know! It certainly has put a brake on my urges – when I don’t think too closely of you, and then even Morse fades into the background. Oh darling, I want you tonight. I have done all day and on the way to cricket was thinking how you would have loved the view of Aberdeen from our cricket pitch. A great wide bay, at least 20 miles across, sweeps north, deep blue broken only by lovely little fishing boats from the Faroes and the occasional blue grey of a naval patrol vessel. There’s no doubt that in this real summer weather Aberdeen is a lovely spot for a holiday.
It was so nice when we came out of night school that Frank and I decided to walk home and as we dallied on the bridge to watch the salmon fishers it’s getting a bit late now. So I must be off if I’m to get this posted tonight.
I do love you, my sweet, so look after yourself for me until I come home. And give my love to the children. Do you think Dave would use a couple of plates on them when they are looking fit? Night night, my love.
Ever your
Arthur X