Monday
Skegness
Darling,
I know you’ll understand when I say that just now I don’t feel very much in the letter-writing mood. It’s very seldom I do feel that way, but everyone in the class seems affected by the same restless spirit and I think it must be infectious. The feeling is rather similar, in a mild sort of way, to that experienced in the last week at home. You know how it was when we both felt rather glad when at last February 10 did arrive and the suspense was ended. Our feelings have not been improved by being kept waiting by the Commodore this morning with the result that all our dinners were stone cold. The custom is for all out-going drafts to receive a little homily from the Great White Chief. You can imagine my surprise when I heard him repeat word for word the first three minutes of the speech we had from the Training Commander on the first morning we were here. I think I mentioned that speech in one of my early letters. This time it made absolutely no impression and not because we have become hard boiled in six weeks, but because the Commodore, who has eyes just like a cod-fish, has absolutely no vitality and is utterly incapable of inspiring confidence in anyone so far as I can see. We know, now, that our training as such, apart from a little boat drill, is over and from now until the end of the week we will do general duties. Quite honestly, we don’t mind that. There is a sense of venture in the early part of the day to see whether you will be lucky or not in the general distribution of duties. But we do feel that now we are just killing time until we have to board the train.
What a pity the contretemps with the children arose. It looks as if I’m going to spend a good deal of my leave bringing Michael back to the straight and narrow. I’ll do it, no matter what effort and sacrifice it costs me. I’m not going to let him get out of hand if I can help it. Anyway, we’ll leave that subject until I come home.
I don’t think I told you, did I, that for the last week I have been going to sick bay again, this time to the chiropodist. We have everything here! The pair of boots I have been wearing for every day use are a shade small. I took them to be stretched but even that did not make sufficient change in them. They still pinch and I developed a corn on my left foot and that ingrowing nail on my right foot gave me hell. The result was I went to the chiropodist, had the corn cut out and the toe nail fixed. The latter was a painful job but it has been a lot better since. I’m going to get a new pair of boots today, but I have to buy them because they argue it is my fault for taking small boots in the first place. Still, it will be worth it for the comfort. Among the lads I’m earning something of a reputation as a permanent sick bay patient. Still, it has saved me a few sticky jobs so far.
The weather is still pretty nippy here, after the first four days of lovely warm sunshine, such as you described in your letter. We get a heavy mist from the sea in the morning, which the sun cannot always dispel.
Tuesday
Just to give the lie to that sentence, we had a heavy mist but now, midday, the sunshine is glorious. So far I have had quite a successful day. I went to sick bay and declared myself fit, getting back just after all the big jobs had been given out. Between 9.30 and dinner time I have carried a bucket as far as the end of Morningside, collected in it some soda, half a bar of soap and a new floor cloth. I’m fair wore out! In addition I have been to buy my new boots which are much more comfortable and should break in without much trouble. It looks as though that will be my total effort today.
I have had a letter this morning from Mother, who assures me, as she always does, that there is no need to worry about you or the children as you are all looking in the pink. She makes no reference at all to the Litherland incident.
I thought of home today when I saw our Chief in his allotment planting parsnips. Was I jealous? The ground here is getting into reasonably good shape now. What a lovely place this must have been in peacetime with grass verges and trees between the chalet rows, each verge edged with long rows of roses and, at the ends, solid flower beds. Still, I doubt whether it was worth the money charged by Butlin. I’m told the prices were pretty stiff – I can believe it.
Well, sweet, I’d better close now and get this into the afternoon post. You may get it by the morning delivery then. I want to try to have a bath in the firm’s time this afternoon as there will be little time to spare after tea. We are going ashore for the last time tonight and want to get into Skeg to say cheers to a couple of Percy’s R.A.F. pals and then back past the camp again for a drink with a few of the lads in Ingoldmells.
Goodbye, my darling. Look after yourself because I had the most glorious erection when I woke this morning! Just like old times. It would have done your heart good. Precious, before I go into another coma I’ll just say I love you more and more.
All my love, darling. Ever,
Arthur X