Monday
Dover
Dearest,
We’ve had a fairly quiet time over the weekend, though Tom and I spent a very pleasant day on Saturday. We got out on the first liberty boat (1.30) and walked and hitched our way into Deal. This part of the country just now does not lend itself very well to wandering over the fields by footpaths because one always has the feeling that one will sooner or later come to some military obstruction and have to turn back. Some of the paths looked most enticing, too. However, we stuck more or less to the main road and got a couple of lifts, one of them in a jeep. We had to sit high up on the back and though we did a steady 55 the wind was quite warm and helped to blow the cobwebs away nicely. We wandered about the front at Deal as much as we could and found that there are some places where bathing is still permitted. On our way back we found a pleasant little service club which we have marked down for future reference if we are that direction again. Today we’ll probably strike out in a new line, most probably inland. We don’t cover a lot of ground in these outings, largely because we are out at the hottest part of the day, but the evenings are really glorious now and it’s delightful just to be able to stroll along.
I meant to tell you before, by the way, that when we come off, or go on, watch in the early hours of the morning, we pass through a thicket where a nightingale greets us with a burst of song each night. Soon, when the eggs are hatched, he will cease to sing and we will miss him. At least I will, for I always look forward to his greeting.
Have the children been too “busy” on their holiday to write? They both owe me a letter! I hope you had more settled weather than we have had this week, for after a brilliant beginning it has been very unsettled.
Bye, sweetheart, and look after yourself. My love to the children, whom I hope to see as brown as berries when I come home. Without wishing to break any spells, they have had a good run of health lately, haven’t they? Now I must be off. All my love to you.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
Jun 051944