Wednesday
Glasgow
Dearest,
There’s not a great deal of fresh news for we have done nothing in the last couple of days. I have not even been out at night. On Monday I stayed in and did some sewing – what with sewing, cooking and typing I’ll make a good wife for someone! Last night I went across the road for a bath and then did some washing, read a book and so to bed. That covers my activities since the weekend, and even I find it difficult to make a song and dance about that. Of domestic interest is the fact that Charlie’s wife has at last condescended to part and he is now the proud father of a son, to his wife’s great delight. She had set her heart on a boy. Perhaps “proud father” is scarcely the word to apply to Charlie for he is a most unemotional fellow. He heard from home on Monday night and told me on Tuesday afternoon because he had “not had a chance before”! I can’t see me doing a thing like that. Think of all the people who wet our babies’ heads. And it’s not that Charlie’s mean. Just that he doesn’t think of it and it’s not his way to make a song and dance about things.
I’m writing this before going to school. The dentist is going to have a look at my mouth this morning and he’ll probably send me to have the palate altered. I’ll tell you how I get on.
Back from dinner and the dentist. He ground the back teeth on the right side of both plates down a fraction and they seem more comfortable. When I asked what I should do about the ulcers he said to leave the bottom set out for a couple of days and then to wear them for a weekend and see how they go. So there you are. The chief snag is that I got back late for dinner and so have not much time to write today.
I have had a letter from Dot and Jack today, enclosing their usual 2/6 book of stamps. Both were very brief notes, full of apologies for the long delay and saying that they have found a new flat, but they don’t say where or when they move in. It can’t be for some time yet as Dot talks of coming home on either Sept 12 or 14 to see about her furniture. Don’t mention that to Mother! But I can see a spot of bother in the offing. Must go now, love.
All my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. What about them there solubles?
Sep 021942