Dec 201942
 

Sunday
Chiswick
Dearest,
Many thanks for the wire and the good news it contained. I’m looking forward to receiving it tomorrow! Now, a nark. What happened? There was no letter from you yesterday. Don’t tell me it’s Xmas week – I’ve guessed that already! It’s alright love, I know you must be busy enough just now, especially with this visit to the clinic each day. How long will that have to continue? And couldn’t they give you a supply of the ointment and let you call back in a few days? If she is fit to go to school, there surely can’t be any real need to go to the clinic every day. I was sorry to hear this had been added to your other burdens, love.
Your last letter sounded as if you had written it with a pen in one hand and a knife in the other. I know how you must feel and I am so sorry that you feel there is such a blank prospect ahead of you on Xmas Day – or rather evening. Couldn’t you slip in to the Perrys’ for a drink on Xmas evening? I’m sure Dave would be very pleased to see you and so would Mrs Perry. All I can say is that I hope the remainder of the holiday compensates for it. I must, however, ask my stock question when there’s a visit to Limedale in the offing. Whose turn is it this time? Michael’s, I think! And God help May if anything does happen. Alright, alright, I know the answer to that one as well. Anyway, I’m not going to enter into a mud-slinging competition about Xmas. I’m fed to the back teeth with it already. Even the “ghost” has not completely cured it.
We went to the Chiswick Empire last night after completing the family shopping at Hammersmith. When we got back home I wanted to get out and have a few beers, but quite early in the day Dot had announced that we were not leaving the house before 7.50 and the show started at 8.10. She dilly-dallied until 7.30 and it always gets my goat that if we go for a drink it is always under protest from Dot, every drink is counted and after the first pint there is a heavy sigh at the sight of each drink that comes up, although I don’t think I have ever had more than three pints at any one sitting. The trouble is that Jack will insist on bringing Dot out every time we go for a drink. I can see I’m going to have a hell of a time trying to infuse a little gaiety into Xmas Day. It’s going to be like drinking in a mausoleum. Bah!
Now, I have not the slightest chance of getting home for Xmas because Hepworth, the lad with whom I had the arrangement and who is a most unsatisfactory kind of a merchant, has been in hot water every day for a week and has now got himself a lovely set of jankers, which means he’s in such bad books here that I doubt if they would allow him to take over for me. Once again – bah!
I have just posted two parcels to you. One, a long fairly round parcel, is for you and I hope it has carried nicely for Jack and I went to a lot of trouble with it last night. That one has NOT to be opened. There is another square parcel which actually consists of two separate boxes. In them are several small parcels for different people. Open those when the children are not about because Wendy’s books are in one and they are unwrapped. I thought they would make a bit of colour in her stocking that way. I meant to write her name in them and then forgot. Now, don’t forget that in the boxes are several parcels including yours, none of which has to be opened before Xmas! Promise? As a special concession I will allow you to have a sweet or two out of an open bag which is also included. You will find two little Xmas decorations with cats on. I thought you could put one on or in a little parcel for Wendy and the other in one of Michael’s. The parcel with Dot’s beakers in will have to come later as the names are not on them yet. I’m sending Mother a little packet of writing paper to Litherland so that she will have some Xmas mail at home.
And now, angel, I think that clears up the question of the Xmas parcels. Many thanks indeed for your cake, with which Dot was delighted. It looks lovely and occupies a place of honour in the kitchen cabinet.
Oh, by the way, it might be as well to let me know as soon as you get the parcels, just to set my mind at rest. I do hope they carry well and that you and the children will like what little there is, even if Xmas is to be so lousy.
Now I must make an effort to write “bright” notes – haw haw – to the children. I’ll enclose them in this letter and will you read them to them on Xmas morning for me, please? Don’t let them know about the notes until then if you can help it.
Bye, love. I’m sorry you are feeling so rotten about Xmas. Myself, I’m bubbling over at the thought of the season of good cheer.
All my love, precious, for even though you might not think it, I still have a soft – and a hard – spot for you.

Ever,
Arthur X