Saturday
Chiswick
My darling,
I must confess that I don’t feel very letterish today – who does on Boxing Day? So this won’t be a very long letter if you don’t mind, but I wanted to write a note for several reasons. First of all to let you know that all the parcels – pudding, my parcel and Jack’s hankies – all arrived safely and in good condition. The posts, however, were really hopeless, so much so that they conspired to ruin my Xmas Eve. This is what happened. I got your registered letter and another one by successive posts on Monday. Then no letter on Tuesday, none on Wednesday, so on Thursday I came home between 10am and noon and waited until the last possible second before going back to work, but still no letter. I was on the point of sending a wire when I decided to slip home at night and found, to my immense relief, two letters, Jack’s hankies, a card from May and the letter from Dave you wrote of. It was a relief because actually the last letter I’d had – the registered one – had been written on the Friday and by the time I did get the next batch it was late on Thursday night! I’m not grumbling at you, love, but just telling you what actually happened. The result was that I didn’t get a drink with the lads, but Jack came out with me and we had one near the station and then when I got into town I had two in solitary state and so to bed without hanging up my stocking! Poor Arfa Parfa!
Xmas Day, as you may imagine, was very quiet but more enjoyable than I expected. Jack and I went out about one o’clock and sank several pints and rums, which put a better outlook on things. Then home to dinner and another couple of pints, a two hour sleep in the chair, a light tea and out for another drink, with Dot this time, and we finished up singing ‘Nellie Dean’, ‘Danny Boy’, etc, in the “local”. So it was not too bad, was it?
I opened my parcel over breakfast and, oh darling, I did get a surprise! Sweetheart, you are good. I’ll most certainly think of you every time I put them on. The funny thing was that I couldn’t find your note, but Dot did and brought it in to me just as I was turning in for an hour after breakfast. Such a nice note that it hurt. Oh, angel, you’ve never seen me in tears, have you? But I was very near them as I read your note in bed. Oh precious, every nerve in my body cried out to be home near you all, and I came winging home to you three. For the moment I could see the children stop playing to run to me shouting “Daddy”, but you didn’t speak except to cry “Oh my darling” and I was in your arms in the kitchen. It was lovely to be home again for that brief minute, but it did hurt, sweet, more than ever before. Oh, my girl, let’s hope it is not long before those slippers do come to live in my own fireplace. One thing about your note I realised was that that was the first time you have signed a collective wish – and it was just right for Xmas morning.
The children were good to think of buying those things with their own money. Say thank you to them for me, please, until I can write to them. I’ll probably save my letter until after I have been to the zoo.
Now, sweetheart, I won’t attempt to answer your letters because I’m very pushed for time. I hope you liked all the little things in the parcel. Did you guess what was in the chocolate box, or do you owe me still another pint? I’m dying to hear the children’s reactions. I do hope you had a nice holiday. Did the beakers arrive in time?
Bye now. I’m looking forward to regular letters once more. All my love, sweet, to you and the children.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
Dec 261942