‘Daily Express’ article, 7 March 1942
Tuesday
Skegness
Darling,
Just a month since we came! That means one month nearer leave. I always said I wouldn’t bother coming home for 48 hours but just try me right now. At the moment the whole class is unsettled with all this doubt as to when and where we are moving. Today five fellows out of our lot – all of them were failed in the preliminary test for telegs – have been told they go on draft on Tuesday of next week, lucky devils. They are all stokers and go either to Devenport or Bristol.
Speaking of Devenport, I thought I made it clear that I would only go to that port after I had passed my wireless course. From what I can gather there is no chance of us going to Manchester, which seems to be a centre for people taking a special course, so that rules that out. From what I hear, the alternatives are London or Ayr. Of the two I am naturally hoping for London – 3.5 hours by train.
Believe it or not, the last two days have definitely been warmer, although I don’t think the temperature has risen sufficiently to justify the order that overcoats have not to be worn between dinner and tea. Still, I have seen the first signs of life here today. Crocuses in one of the hundreds of little garden plots which abound in this camp. I admit that flowers don’t get much chance here, for fellows have been set to dig over the garden edges to cover the countless matchsticks and cigarette ends with which the place is littered. Some of the lads are quite daft. I saw one push a spade right through the centre of a rose bush one day.
Today has been a quiet day. We did practically nothing before cocoa time (10.15) and at 10.30 had our second inoculation. It is now about 6pm and my left arm is just beginning to stiffen a little. Inoculation seems to affect people quite differently. Last time I just had a stiffness and slight soreness in the arm. I hope it is as easy this time, as it should be.
Glad to hear the financial situation is not too bad at the moments, although as you say, it leaves no margin for clothes, the chemist, doctors, and so on. I agree you will need “generous” treatment from these special allowance people. I do hope things work out alright. So far I have refused to worry and am hoping you will get a margin from them over and above the rent and insurances limit. You will need it, especially when Wendy goes to school.
You seem to be having a tough time with the children. Do you think I should write and tell them off? I’m sorry you have to carry that side of family life all on your own. It is one of the things I hate being away for. What an awful sentence! Still, you know what I mean. They will probably be better when the fine weather comes and, of course, when Wendy goes to school Michael will have to pick his fights outside the home. That will be a comfort, but it still doesn’t solve the problem, does it? Anyway, I’ll deal with them when I come home.
You seem to have been doing a lot of odd-jobbing around the house. I’m quite intrigued but I hope that when I do return I shall not find all my tools have been ruined! You are not, by any chance, using chisels as screwdrivers are you? Or trying to make a 6 inch nail into a 4 inch by planing it down? Whatever you are doing you are apparently having a whale of a time. I know what you mean about getting absorbed in a job. I’ve done it myself, often. Still, you shouldn’t have missed a play for it. Until you mentioned it, I had never thought of a difference in people’s attitude towards the pictures and wireless. It’s a bit thin for a woman’s piece in the ‘Echo’, isn’t it? Several times since I came away I have wondered if you do anything for them these days. You seem to have your hands full just at the moment, but I should try to keep it up, even if only occasionally. If you let it slide now, you will find it more difficult than ever, if the time ever comes when you really need to do it. I’m not criticising, sweet, just suggesting. You know how I hate the idea of any tendency for the house and children to “kill” your original urge.
I am absolutely ignorant of any trend in rationing but I should say that now everything is going to be rationed, or at least controlled, and probably very drastically. Even if we were to recover some of the places we have lost in the Far East, we would not start getting the raw materials and goods they produce for a long time. Obviously we should conserve every ton of stuff we have in the country and it only annoys me that we will allow all sorts of people to corner the market in essential things and then compensate them by stabilising prices at a high level.
If only Woolton[??] and his crowd were in earnest about the cat for racketeers. Incidentally, while I was writing this Percy Faulkner, the third of the trio in the photograph, gave me the enclosed cutting showing what the Navy are doing about it. Percy is in the next chalet to me and I met him at the first breakfast we had here. I found him a more suitable fellow for me than the lad from Liverpool who was, without being snobbish, a real Liverpudlian. Percy and I have gone about a good deal together. He is our class leader – similar to the job Ernest had – and I know that I was in the running for it too. He got it, justifiably, because he is a Rover[??] leader, a Group scoutmaster, a member of the Home Guard, and a former member of the voluntary A.F.S. Who could compete with that record? Anyway, he is quite a decent fellow. In civvy life he was in the Post Office telephones, on the maintenance side I think. It is a useful job that he has as class leader because it carries exemption from all sorts of fatigues and, most of all, from fire watching. To be honest, I should have liked the job. For one thing it shows you are being noticed. My only consolation is that I was “runner-up” and have deputised when he has been off-colour. Quite honestly I thinks he is probably the better man for the job. I have meant to tell you about him on several occasions but never found a real opportunity. He, if anyone, is my pal here and I’m only sorry his depot is Chatham because we will probably lose touch when we leave here. Chatham suits him admirably, however, as he is a Londoner.
Sorry if I have harped on about the coldness here! But it has been lousy, although it improved a bit on Sunday and was quite decent, by comparison, yesterday and today. Don’t worry about the hot water bottle when I come home, sweet, just a woman is all I shall want – and do want right now. Oh darling, what fun you’re going to have exploring these bellbottoms, if I can restrain my impatience for you. Right now, darling, I could crush you to death. Yet I want to be so tender. I want to do all the familiar little things. To kiss the palm of your hands. To feel you close your eyes beneath my lips. To brush the nape of your neck with my lips. Darling! You’d think we were a couple of callow children instead of an almost respectable married couple with two children and, just now, thanking God it is not going to be three – at least while this war is on.
I have made this a fairly longish letter in case I miss the chance of writing tomorrow. I will almost certainly miss your weekend letter this week, although I’ll try to get a note off. Thursday is not likely to be my best day, however. By the way, I’ve got the postal order for the amount of the pyjamas and hope to remember to enclose it. Save it. If you like, you can get me boozed when I come home. I’ll be a cheap drunk, too. I’m almost T.T. now.
By the way, the chalets here have pipe heaters which are on for a couple of hours each night. Three hours sometimes and on gala days like today for four or five hours.
This is all for now, precious. I’m off to bed early to rest my arm, it is throbbing just a little and will be all the better for a rest. It’s not bad so don’t worry. I’m not being a martyr! All my love, darling,
Arthur
P.S. Don’t miss my weekend letter this week, will you? I’ll need it!