Friday
Sick Berth, Skegness
Darling,
By now you should have received the note I scribbled out while in a semi-comatose condition yesterday. I hope it was not too incoherent, but I thought you’d like a note, even a weird one, as soon as possible. Normally full extractions are made in the mornings, but for some reason the doctor who was to give me the anaesthetic was not free until the afternoon. I went in about 2pm and came round in the ward about 4.30, but then lapsed again. So far I have felt very little discomfort except that at breakfast this morning (6am!) I tried to chew a little bread and it was just like chasing a small piece of rubber around my gums. However, I made quite a good meal of porridge, lashings of it with brown sugar and plenty of milk. It depends on what there is for dinner, but in my case I should do quite well on soup, vegetables and rice pudding.
I seem to have timed my drop in for periodic rounds by big people and inspections by distinguished visitors. Yesterday was the Surgeon Captain’s fortnightly rounds – the staff are scared on these occasions – and as I was in a bed near him of course he picked on me for a little light conversation. That was before I went to the theatre. Anyway, I answered as brightly as I could and you could see the relief on the faces of the sick berth stewards. They are all men here. Last night we heard that the whole camp had to parade for Rear Admiral Walker of Portsmouth. We had to have the ward all polished up in case he decided to look in on us, although nobody really expected he would. However, soon after 11am in walked half of the Admiralty, or so it seemed, headed by our own Commodore and the Admiral. Once again the two big shots picked on me before going their way.
Now I am feeling fine. For dinner I had all the thick soup I could drink, a big plate of mince and mashed potatoes, but could do little with the cabbage. We finished off with quite a respectable plate of rice pudding which, unlike the stuff we generally get, was nice and sweet. So you will see I am sitting up and taking nourishment although, naturally, my gums are not yet hard enough to tackle anything that needs real chewing. So far as I can see, the extractions have made very little difference to the shape of my face. Tell the children that this morning I could not pull my funny faces when I was shaving! It hurt a bit when I pressed my lips and cheeks into my gums. For a time I was in two minds whether or not to bother shaving but, as the powers that be condescended to notice my existence, what a good job I did. The old Commodore is a stickler and would, in all probability, have had me on the carpet.
Now about your letter. You are right. If you had written a pseudo cheerful note I most certainly would have smelled a rat. I’m glad to see from the postscript that you felt better on Wednesday. That was probably due as much to your having got the matter off your chest as to the good night’s sleep. Why have you not been sleeping lately? That is far more important than an odd day of the blues, much as I hate you feeling that way. As you say, the blues will pass, insomnia might linger for weeks. Don’t forget that, in the long run, it is far better to see the doctor at once than to just drift on getting lower and lower in your reserves. You sound as though you have been pretty seedy lately. Have you had a course of those pills? Don’t forget spring and autumn are the times you are supposed to have them – not winter and summer! I’ll bet you have never yet taken one complete course of them as they should be taken. Get some now and see they are finished in a month.
Now listen, sweetheart. I have always told you that, in many ways, yours is the more difficult part, the sitting at home in the same surroundings. I know it’s hard, but try not to let the children get under your skin and, above all, never let them realise they are getting you down. Easy to write about, isn’t it? But I know you’ll do your damnedest. I told May so in the letter I sent her, so that shows how much confidence I have in you. Keep your chin up, pet, for your own sake, for the sake of Michael and Wendy and for my sake. I know you can do it – and what’s more I trust you as one can only trust the person one loves above all else in the world.
I think your analysis of the position is right. You will have black days and nights – blue ones if you prefer that shade – but you will have bright ones, too. These moments of depression are bound to come. I get them sometimes, though perhaps not as often as you do, because my life, at the moment, contains a fair amount of novelty. Even being in bed “under the doctor” twice in a month is a novelty to me and, despite the loss of my peggies, quite a pleasant change. Whenever you get a fit of the blues, sit down and talk to me on paper. Write the misery out of your system, go to bed and you’ll find you will sleep well. It’s conducive to a form of exhaustion. I hate the thought of you being depressed but when you are like that I should hate it even more if you cured your blues by talking to the neighbours. Although I am so far from you physically, I always want you to feel I’m right at your side. And I am, you know. That’s why I want to help you bear all your little burdens. It’s one of the reasons we were married, and we have faced quite a bit of trouble together in the last five short years. How short they seem now. Looking back on them, do you sometimes feel we wasted just a few precious opportunities of absorbing still more of each other’s spirit? Sometimes I do. But sometimes, when I think what we mean to each other and how completely we have grown into and can trust each other, I think we must have made pretty good use of our time and so would not have spent one moment of it differently. Had we done any different, our understanding might be different and that I would not have. Now, don’t forget, next set of blues and every set for that matter, are on me. Promise?
Sorry to hear Mother has been on about Jack again. She sent Jack’s and Dot’s letters on to me some time ago and I returned the m with comments in their favour. I’m afraid that is all I can do from long range. I agree with you about Bert’s attitude being influenced by the marriage business. Bert, of course, has a rather Victorian outlook on many things and not least on the “what are your intentions young man” question. For that reason I have been quite surprised at the way in which we have got by with him, especially in view of the relationship between Anne and him as compared to with those between you and I. Go to Limedale by all means on Saturday and I hope you will have a nice time there. Give May my love and thank her for her letter which I may or may not get a chance to answer before I leave Skegness. Once the weather improves, you will have to try to get out a bit more. Is there any of the shore left open to the public these days? If not, what about a walk through Ince Woods occasionally? That makes quite a pleasant change.
I’m glad you were able to back Wendy up and hope you managed to explain that she was right and the girl wrong. Will you tell Wendy I said “thank you” to her for posting my letter? She’d like that, I think.
Many thanks for the cigarette papers. They arrived in sick berth at a moment when I was getting very low and all my spares were locked in my kit-bag. Tell Mother not to send cigarettes or chocolate. I can get any amount here. On that subject, by the way, is it worth while my bringing any home? Let me know in your first letter because we never know the day when we shall be moving now. You probably will not get this until Monday and we will have been here five weeks on Tuesday.
Two other things, while I remember. Have you made any inquiry as to when the telephone quarter ends? If not, do so straight away and then send in your notice cancelling the subscription in ample time, as I presume you have decided not to keep it.
The second thing is about the office allowance. I have had a note from Jimmy Gregson. Have you written him at all? He tells me the office loan will continue until the Special Allowance comes through. If they do continue to send it, don’t forget that out of the lump sum you get from the Special Allowance people you will have to repay all but the first two pounds from the ‘Daily Post’. Anyway, I’ll drop Jimmy Gregson an ambiguous note on the subject. He tells me, by the way, that in my case, for the first time, the Allowance Board has raised the question of expenses. The firm has replied that all expenses paid to reporters are expenses actually incurred and are not liable to income tax. Jimmy seems to think this a point in our favour. It’s funny how all these people seem to pick on me to start their monkey business. Do you remember I was the first to be given a medical exam while still on the reserved list? There have been other instances I can’t remember off hand, except that I was first of the under 35s to be roped in.
Well, my pet, this is scarcely a light cheery note to lift your gloom, although I suppose that will be lifted by all your illicit drinking at Limedale. Don’t develop into a hardened drinker while I’m away, will you, or you will be able to drink me under the table. It’s nearly a week, I think, since I had a drink, but as I said before, the beer in camp is not worth drinking.
I quite enjoyed the pictures the other night. The feature was ‘Target For Tonight’ and there were a couple of M.O.I. films and a news reel as well. Sometimes I believe they get Disney cartoons, but there were none on Monday. Still, it made a pleasant break. I was given a ticket for a boxing match in the camp on Wednesday night, but could not go as that was the night I had to come in here. Wasn’t that bad luck? I haven’t seen a scrap for years. Just my luck. So I gave my ticket to young Harry Forman, who was very keen to go. I have not seen him, of course, but I’m told by some of the lads in the ward that some of the decisions were not too popular. I don’t suppose you’re greatly intrigued by that!
Well, my sweet, I must close now. I still have to write Jimmy Gregson, Eric and one or two other people. I have been interrupted several times since I began this letter and we are now well on the way towards supper. All my love, darling. You will be home from Limedale when you get this. A welcome home for you. Hope you had a nice time. Bye for now. I still love you, precious.
Yours for ever,
Arthur
Mar 131942