Nov 161942
 

Monday
Bedford Park, Chiswick, London W4
Dearest,
As you will see from the address, we have definitely arrived at Whitehall. How long we will be here we do not know. We were chased off for the day – that was at 3.30. I’ve been on the phone to Dot and will stay the night there. The odds are that I shall stay with her all the time I’m here so you can write me c/o Dot straight away.
That’s all for now, love. Hope you are feeling better. All my love, angel.
Ever,
Arthur X

Nov 171942
 

Tuesday
Chiswick
Dearest,
Another somewhat hectic 24 hours are behind us and we are beginning to see the light of day. But let’s start at the beginning. We got in London yesterday afternoon, as you know, reported to the Admiralty, were told to report at the same place at 9am today and then left to our own devices. I contacted Dot and Jack and spent the night with them and have decided to stay there permanently. I was able to get down here in time by leaving Chiswick at 8.20, which is not too bad.
When we reported we were split into watches – three to a watch. There are two watches on duty each day, which means that we work 24 hours and are off for 24 hours. When we are on duty we divide the day into further watches – one duty watch and one stand-by. Duty watch does the actual work and the others are free to do much as they please – go out for a meal or to a show, so long as they are back in time to take over the watch. For instance, what is called the forenoon watch goes on duty at 9 until 1.30; then again from 8pm until 3am, after which they sleep until 9pm or later, there being sleeping accommodation in the building. All this sounds complicated but I thought you’d be interested. The days we are on duty we receive 1/9 a day for meals – payable at the end of the month. We get something between 23/- and 28/- a week billeting money and ration cards as well.
Jack Gray, Charlie Mitchell, Tom Oliver and I are all on duty the same day, which means that we have our free time together, so we are lucky. Tom’s home is within reasonable reach of the place and he can live at home. Jack and Charlie, however, have taken on rooms at the Union Jack Club (where I am writing this, incidentally) for 10/- a week and then they have to buy their meals, which they can just about manage I should say.
The way the watches have worked out, we are off all today and will turn in at 9am tomorrow, which gives us a chance to settle down very nicely. I’m having dinner with the lads at the Union Jack and then we’ll wander round for a time, perhaps see a show and then toddle off to Dot’s for tea. Dot and Jack were quite pleased to have me but were worried as to whether I’d be comfortable enough on the bed chair, which is the only spare bed accommodation they have. Actually it’s quite as comfortable as the iron bunks we have been sleeping in. In fact, more comfortable. So you can see that, although there is no great margin of money, at least there’s no need to worry about me. The great fear is that, once again, there is no tobacco issue, but fortunately I have a little stock saved up, even in the short time we were at Cookham. This tobacco business is a pest and a continual source of annoyance to us all.
Well, there you have all the news of things as they stand at the moment. While I’m here I’ll have a good look round the place and probably contact Bill Summers sooner or later. Nobody knows how long we shall stay here but all the lads agree that it is too cushy a number to last very long and I’m rather inclined to agree with them. One of the lads in the office said we would be here until they trained Wrens to take our places!
Now, what of you and things at home, generally? In all these moves I always seem to get the dirty end of the stick for, while I can write you, I can’t get your answers for a day or two! Poor Arfa! How are you, angel? I’m glad that, according to your last letter, you are feeling more lively. Keep going slowly and don’t let anything get you doing too much. Above all, try to keep clear of colds. Are the children still on their best behaviour? I do hope so. And what of vapours? Any sign yet? Again – I DO hope so. Let me have all the news now that I have settled down again. I miss your long interesting letters you know.
Give my salaams to Dave, and tell him I’ll write as soon as I can. I must drop Hughie a line, too.
Well, angel, it’s dinner-time and I must away. If I get this in the post early you should have it by morning. Look after yourself, love, for I do love you. More and more and more. I’m in that mood to make a great fuss of you if only I was home. A real tantalising mood, which means that after all the upsets and changes of the last few weeks I’m getting back to normal once more. Jack and Dot send their love, by the way.
My love to the children and all my love to you, sweet. Take care of yourself for me.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. It’s quite true about London. You DO get a better class of woman – at least I did in a lovely dream which you shared last night, even if you didn’t know it. And you’re back to normal? I’ll say! All of which means I’m missing you in every way, precious. Darling, I love you.

Nov 191942
 

Thursday
Chiswick
Sweetheart,
The whole world seems upside down. I’m just back at Dot’s (12.30 noon) after my first full 24 hours on duty, the delay being due to the fact that we had to wait behind for our pay and ration cards, which ate considerably into the morning.
I’ll give you the story of the day, which is fairly typical except that on alternate days there are slight modifications in times – in fact hours of “leisure” and work are reversed. We reported at 9am and three of us who were not actually on watch messed about for an hour and then had to go in to a microscopic room still further in the bowels of the earth where the telegs had instruction. It was absolutely useless to me but for the sake of discipline we had to go and look on until 11 am when we were free to go out in search of fresh air and a meal. I had dinner, by the way, in the crypt of St Martins-in-the-Fields after a stroll along the Mall and through St James’ Park. We reported back at 1.30 and were on duty until 8 o’clock, during which time we were hard at it. Then tea or supper, whichever you would call it, and back to the Admiralty for some sleep and a wash. We were called at 2.45 and on the job from 3 am until 9 when today’s watch came in. Although we were hard at it for twelve-and-a-half out of 24 hours the time passed quickly. My chief complaints are that we are perpetually underground, working under artificial light and in artificially ventilated rooms. At the end of the first shift I developed one of those “heavy” heads, but that was probably due to constipation as much as anything. Perhaps in time we will get used to it, but at the moment everything seems topsy-turvy so I hope you will understand if there is an occasional lapse in my letters, as there was yesterday.
And talking of letters – many thanks for your two written on 16th and 17th, from which it seems there are a couple of letters sculling round Cookham for me. I may get them later but I think they should have arrived by now. I’m glad to hear the news of vapours, more especially as you are still feeling down in the mouth. By now you will have seen Rees and what with his advice and the passing of the peak of vapours I’m hoping to hear that you are getting stronger and more like your old self again. I worry about you so much when you get depressed. You see I have so much to occupy my mind these days – too much in fact – that I feel it is almost impossible for anyone to be depressed. I get fed up to the back teeth quite often, but never depressed except when I think of you being off-colour and me not there to help you and fuss you. Oh, angel, I do wish I could get home but at the moment it seems impossible. You see before I can do that I would have to get permission to provide a deputy in my watch. Now the only way of getting a deputy is to ask someone to work one day for me – in other words I’d have to find someone in the other watch who is willing to work for 72 hours on the run for he would have to do his own tours of duty with mine sandwiched in between. See what I mean? And then I would have to do the same for him, which I would be quite willing to do when I get into the swing of things – but not for a little time yet! One day at a time is enough at the moment! I’m telling you all this just to show you what the difficulties are, and I know you will appreciate them.
I’m so glad to hear that the children are behaving well. Do give them both a pat on the back for me because if either of them get a narky fit I’d feel ever so much worse about you. You seem to have got a bargain in Michael’s coat.
Well, angel, that’s all the news. Oh, sweet, I do wish this war was over and I could come and look after you again. I love you so and I worry so much when I know you are ill or depressed. If I had been a “careful” sort of husband I’d be able to send you money to go for a long holiday and leave the children behind you. Oh, angel, if only I could do all the things I should do.
Will you promise to tell me all that the doctor says? If you think he is keeping anything back, give him my address and tell him to write to me.
Now I must go and post this, angel, and then do a collar and some “undies” for myself and try to get an hour’s sleep before Dot and Jack come in.
Bye, precious. I love you more and more so do your best to get really fit once again. All my love, sweet, and my love to the children. Tell them I’m proud of two such good kids.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Nov 201942
 

Friday
‘The Beaver Club (Associated with the Canadian YMCA)’
Chiswick
Dearest,
As you will see from the notepaper, I’m at work again and have just had dinner after doing a solid four-and-a-half hours work. I came out without my notepaper and so I called in here – a very pleasant place where, in common with most of the colonial clubs, they get far more variety in the way of food, sweets, etc. Some of our fellows are apt to get a bit sore about it, but when all is said and done, we would expect much the same if we were abroad.
I don’t want to do too much trotting around as I shall be on until 3 in the morning. If I can I will probably find a nice comfortable settee in here and snooze for an hour or so. That will freshen me up a good deal. Nobody here seems to question your right to come and go as you please.
Now that we are getting into our stride a bit more, I think this job will be OK. I’m certainly glad that we have had this chance of getting into the swing of things before being posted abroad. It will give us more confidence wherever we may have to go.
I hope you have been to see Rees by now. I’m anxious to hear what he has to say about you. If the bynin amara [malt extract] is not building you up, why not leave it for a time and take another course of your green pills? Anaemia may have as much as anything to do with you still feeling weak and tired. Do hurry up and get well again, love. It worries me so to think of you dragging yourself round because I had thought that by now you would be well on the way to recovering some of your strength.
Well, sweet, there’s not a great deal more to be said, except that I love you still and would give anything to hold you tight again and to bully you out of your blues. If only I could! I fancy myself as a bully, you know! So take good care of yourself or I will have to start bullying you.
Give my love to the children. If you can think of anything I can make for Wendy, let me know and I might have a shot at it here on my off days. Bye for now and all my love, sweetheart.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Nov 221942
 

Sunday
Chiswick
My darling,
I don’t quite know where to start so perhaps I’d better begin by giving you some mundane information for which you have asked. According to my pay-book my present ship is HMS President II.
Now, about Rees and the clinic. There’s some hope for you yet, for you almost showed signs of intelligence in one spot in your letter! When you wrote “I want to be strong and healthy and I’m damn well going to be” you took the only possible attitude towards this business of getting back on your feet again. I’ve already said that I think the anaemia might have a lot to do with your slow progress and I think that and a sort of mental languor due to the exhaustion of illness continue to hold you back more than anything. Make up your mind to get out as much as you can, chase the blues to the devil and keep up with your green pills religiously and I’ll gamble you’ll feel better in a week. Try to get into the company of fairly bright people – I know how few opportunities you have, so don’t tell me – but make the effort and you’ll feel better for just making the effort. I’m not talking for the sake of doing so because I know that if I were home – me in the new role of a “bright person” – I’d shake you up a bit, in more senses than one.
After reading your two letters yesterday I felt like nothing on earth for two or three hours, I was so depressed and worried for you. Then, quite deliberately, I put them all behind me, but first I laughed in their faces and was helped in doing so by a remark of your own. Remember, when I was home, you said in the middle of all that fireplace mess how it helped to see these things from a spot in the future and laugh at them as the time when “you had pneumonia and the boiler burst twice!” Ha ha ha. Very funny two years hence but a tragedy at that very moment. Ten years hence, when you are ten stone something, the children will burst their sides laughing at the thought of Mummy having T.B.! Yesterday I couldn’t have thought of it that way for a couple of hours. Now I can and do.
On the last day Rees was at the house to see you he had already decided on the X-ray, so that shows what his attitude is – one of precaution only. Can you remember what he said of stethoscopes when Michael was ill at Xmas? “Useful,” he said, “but not infallible. In a very few years every general practitioner will carry with him a portable X-ray set for dealing with chest cares.” And that could not possibly mean that every case would have T.B. And that, I think, settles that problem. When you see Rees on Wednesday he will tell you that you are badly run down and that for the next year you will have to take great care of yourself and, further, that a holiday would do you all the good in the world! The one point on which I curse myself for a fool is that I have not saved enough from civvy street to send you away for a decent break.
Now, if Rees does say all these things, and I think he will, ask him quite frankly how long it will be before you can become pregnant again. After all, that is one of his jobs as a doctor. Tell him the arguments that you have in mind: that I may go abroad for a couple of years; that I may be nearly 40 before I get out of uniform; that you WANT another child; that you want it now so that there will not be a big gap in the family; and that when I come home we won’t be tied to the house by a new baby. His own private opinions are worth nothing but he should be able to advise you on the physical side of things. Do this! Promise? And if he says that you will soon be fit to conceive, I’ll do my best, my humble best for you. It’s a job I dislike, of course, but you know how magnanimous I am! Oh darling, it’s because I love you so that I do want you to get fit and strong so that we can increase the family and to hell with the war, although I’ll be fiercely jealous of everyone who is with you during that time. Angel girl, I do love you and I only wish I was at home to fuss you.
Now, angel, no more blues. No more depression. Don’t dread Wednesday but look forward to it and remember I’m with you every minute of the day and night – witness my recent dream of you. So buck up, love, and get to conception level quickly. All my love, sweetheart, I still adore you.
Ever your
Arthur X

Nov 231942
 

Monday
Chiswick
My darling,
Thank you for the nearest approach to a normal letter that you have written since I left home. And the gratitude is not merely because it is obviously nice to receive “normal” letters, so much as the fact that it is a cheering sign when you can write a longer, more everyday letter. It is just one of those little steps on the road to getting really well. Funnily enough I’m not seriously worried about your night cough. I don’t think that bears on the major problem at all, although I agree with you that it is probably a big factor in holding you back by robbing you of your sleep. I know you are far from being your old self just now, but ever since that first few hours of worry after I got your letter on Saturday – and I was worried soft for a time – I have ceased to have any doubts as to the final issue. Quite honestly I think you will have a few weeks of ups and downs yet, but that all the time, whether you appreciate it or not, you will gradually be getting stronger and stronger and able to do little things which you can’t do at the moment and then, one day, you will feel spring in the air. From that point you will never look back. I know I’m right. How, I can’t tell. All I know is that in Glasgow, while struggling to get home to you, I had a most wretched time for several hours and then, just before I went to bed, I knew things were going to be all right. And, although I hated to see you ill, I had no fears as to the ultimate outcome.
With Xmas not yet here, you may think talk of spring a far cry. But, before you know where you are, the crocus will be pushing their spikes through and little things in the garden will be taking a new lease of life. And then you will be doing all those things which, as I have said, you don’t feel up to at the moment. You will, angel mine, I know!
Now, in my letter on Saturday I meant to lay down an “order of the day”. I want you to write me, as often as you can find the time, long newsy letters like you used to do. Keep your eyes and ears open in the house for little incidents like Wendy and Michael getting married and the couple next door having a row. Those were flashes of your old self and just the effort of taking notice of all those little things will pull you out of yourself a bit. Angel, you know that it is not just selfishness on my part which demands this from you. It is a desire to help you force yourself to keep a firm hold on ordinary interesting little things in life. And I think that if you talk to me in this way often it may help a little.
Now I’ll tell you what I do at work, quite quickly and simply. I sit at a perforator, punch tape and, according to their importance, they are on the air to places all over the world in varying degrees of time, without ever being examined by anyone. So there you are. It’s still an unusual kind of life, for you never seem to have a full day off because of the anxiety to get a full night’s sleep in preparation for the following 24 hours. Still, we are gradually getting used to it.
On Saturday night – with a brilliant full moon – we all three went to town and wandered round the West End, calling in for an odd drink here and there. We finished up by going to the Haymarket to see Coward’s film ‘In Which We Serve’, the best war picture I have seen and just one more example of Coward’s genius for doing the job right, even to small details like a sailor home on leave pulling a piece of string, with key attached, through the letterbox. A great film, but very sob-making. It’s all about various members of a destroyer crew. One fellow’s home is bombed and the scene where the bomb hits the house is devastatingly real to anyone who has been through real raids. Not a cheerful film, although it has its humour too, but a great piece of work.
Last night I went up to the ‘Daily Herald’ and Bill came out for half an hour. He sends his salaams to you and hopes you will soon be fit. I’m going to have tea and spend the evening with them on Wednesday, which is my next day off. And that fills in the whole of the weekend, I think. Yesterday was fairly quiet at work and to all intents and purposes we could have finished by five or six this morning, only you can never tell what will break, of course. People here are thrilled by the Russian news, probably more than by our activities just at the moment.
We have decided, by the way, that the cheapest meals in London are those at St Martin-in-the-Fields, where we go almost every day.
Well, my sweet, the light is fading and if I am to catch the evening post I must go now. Sweetheart, I’m fighting very hard against a coma for love of you. Thank goodness that right from the beginning of our married life our troubles as they have come along have only driven us closer and closer to each other. Just now I ask nothing more of life than to be at home, to hold you tight, feel you quiver in my arms in that first delicious minute when it seems impossible to look at all of you at once because your eyes bewitch me; and then to settle down to making you well again. And having got you well, to put you in bed to deliver unto me another son. Angel, angel! What a prospect.
Chins up, angel, all of them! Get well soon for I want unfettered freedom of your body, seeing you have talked me into it! Sweetheart, I adore you and I could talk to you like this all night but I’d miss the post so bye until tomorrow. My love to the children.
And all my love to you, angel mine.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Nov 241942
 

Tuesday
Chiswick
Angel girl,
I’ve done very well today. One of your letters was forwarded from Cookham today – a really cheery, newsy letter written on 14th telling me of Dick Hasprey’s christening and Mrs Hodges’ expectations – and then I decided to come home as I had a couple of hours spare and here I got my tiddly, for which many thanks, and the note and letter with them, as well as your letter. Quite a gala day for me.
I’m afraid you would be without a letter, one day, because I discovered when I got to the post that the last collection from here is 4.15 and it was then 4.30! What a stupid time for a final collection, isn’t it? I was sorry to leave you without a letter just now.
No, love, we don’t have any extra time at the weekends. Saturdays and Sundays are exactly the same as any other day. On the question of Xmas leave, I can’t see much hope at the moment. But it is far too early to make any sort of plans just yet. Five weeks is a long time to plan ahead in the services, as you know, for anything might happen now. I think we had better forget about Xmas for the time being, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for the slightest possible chance. If we had a few Scotsmen here I could make a deal with one to work New Year for him if he would do Xmas for me. Unfortunately, most of the fellows here are locals, apart from our own crowd, that is. Anyway, you don’t need telling that I will do all I can in that direction.
I don’t know what you can do about the money box. All you can do is to force it open, if none of the other keys in the house – like the wardrobe key – will fit it. If Dave has not a key that will fit, force it open with a screwdriver near the lock and I’ll try to put a new lock on it next time I’m home.
A tip for when you can’t cut the cabbage. Pull it out of the ground; get one of the old spades; lie the cabbage on the ground and chop through the stalk with the spade.
With all your dreams, you will be undermining your constitution, young woman. Anyway, you have no right to be one up on me in your present state of health. Oh, darling, I do have to keep a tight hand on myself when I think of you or I go into a very deep and sensuous coma! Oh, angel, it seems such a long time since you were really you and could enter into the full spirit of oats, although for a convalescent woman I must say you did very well last time I was home. But I want you again when you are in your best seductive mood so that I am very willing clay in your hands. Just now I’m all wound up for a real sexual orgy with you – ready to strip you in front of the bedroom fire, taking half an hour in doing so. Then to feast my eyes on you in the firelight before slipping a dressing gown on you and leading you to the bathroom, there to perform sundry rites before climbing into bed to bring things to a delicious climax which never seems to last long enough. And I want you, too, to lead me to bed in the middle of the day after sitting on my knee and disturbing my equanimity – among other things. In short, I want to love and be loved passionately again, and that’s one very good reason why you have to get completely better.
Now, angel, I must away and masturbate!
There’s nothing that’s really fresh in the way of news. As you will have gathered, I still love you, precious, although I scarcely think you’d call that “news”. Jack and Dot send their love and hope you will soon be well again. Dot, by the way, says that she had a cough like yours the winter before last and it turned out to be whooping cough. She apparently had a bad time with it. When I told her you were sick with it she said, “She’s not going to have another baby is she?” What do you think of that for a woman’s mind?
I hope this letter will reach you by Wednesday, although I have my doubts, although I’m going to post it in town. I’ll slip home on Thursday again to pick up your letter and I hope it will have some real good news in it.
Bye for now, precious. I love you more and more each day.
I’m so glad the children are being so considerate. Give them my love and tell them how good I think they are, for they are good kids. Which of them sent the magic painting? Wendy, I suppose. I really must try to write to them, and to lots of other people, too. I’ve written to no one but you and Mother so far.
Now I must be off to sleep for an hour. I feel very tired today. All my love, angel, and good luck at the doctor’s tomorrow.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Nov 251942
 

Wednesday
Chiswick
Dear Wendy,
Has Mummy told you that while I am in London I am living with Auntie Dot? It is nice to be living in a proper house again, instead of in the funny little houses we have had in some of the places we have been to since I joined the Navy. This is really a flat – perhaps Mummy will tell you what that is – and the men and women who live in the rooms above Auntie Dot’s have a lovely white dog called Scampie. Every day when I come in she comes down to see me. She sits up and begs while I am having my breakfast or dinner and says “please” when she wants something to eat. When she has eaten it she says “thank you” by shaking hands with you. Isn’t she clever? Auntie Dot also has a budgie called Bobby and he chatters away all day long. She did have two budgies but one died while she was at Nanna’s not long ago.
Mummy has told me what a surprise she had when she came downstairs one morning and found that you had laid the table for breakfast and pulled the curtains back. I think you are a very good girl to help Mummy when she is not well and I am very proud of you for thinking of doing things like that without having to be asked.
Do you like staying at school for dinner? I hope you get enough to eat! Well, love, I must write some more letters now, and then I am going out to tea.
Bye for now, and thank you for being so good to Mummy.
Lots of love,
Daddy X

Nov 251942
 

Wednesday
Chiswick
Angel,
I’m afraid I haven’t a lot of time left after writing to the children, but they have been so good that I felt they had deserved it. It’s so hard to convey your appreciation to children in writing. On the last night at home, when I was tucking them in, I asked them to try to help you but I didn’t think at the time they would take it to heart so. They are good kids, aren’t they, and I really am proud of them. It looks as if they are developing a real “team” spirit in the house.
What time did you go to the doctor’s today? I have been thinking of you a lot since nine o’clock. Before that I didn’t have much time for I never stopped for six solid hours, except to reel up my tapes. We got snowed under with work. It looks as if they are prepared to enlarge the staff here for they are putting a new bench in the centre of the room for six more machines! If they don’t fill the place with Wrens we should be OK for a time.
But all that is beside the point at the moment. I’m impatient now for tomorrow to come round and to get the full news of what the doctor has to say about you. By now, of course, you’ll have the full “dope” on the situation. I should have arranged to ring you at the phone box at the corner of Northern Road, tonight. Or, as it turns out, you could have rung me at Bill Summers’ tonight! Fancy me not thinking of that before. I want kicking to death. Still, I suppose I will have to bide my time as best I can. I’ll slip home at dinner time tomorrow and collect your letter. Otherwise I’ll never settle down to work, knowing that it is lying here waiting for me. I’m relying on you for a full report.
Well, angel, there’s nothing really new to report. I still love you, precious, and like you I feel as if I have been away from home for months and months. I don’t seem to be able to settle down somehow. I’m still regarding Whitehall as a resting place for a brief spell, so I’ll probably be here for months! Now I must go and post this and ring Emily to find out how to get to their place.
All my love, angel, and here’s hoping for good news tomorrow.
Bye, my love, until then.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Nov 271942
 

Friday
Chiswick
Sweetheart,
I’m sorry you didn’t get a letter again yesterday but it really was impossible. You see, we were on afternoon watch which, you’d think, would give plenty of time for writing as we don’t start actual work until 1.30. What actually happened was that we cleared up the room until 10 o’clock and then had to go to a building some distance away to be paid. We hung about there until 11 and then I made a dash for Charing X and home to see if there was a letter from you. There wasn’t so I dozed until 12.30, which left me barely an hour to get to town, snatch a meal and get to work. At the gate I met the postman and received your very welcome letter which was very relieving. In spite of one’s own confidence, it’s good to have all doubts swept aside. That news in itself should do you the world of good.
There are several points which occurred to me as a result of your news of what Rees said and perhaps they are best itemised. They are:
1. Do you think there is any prospect of me getting the liver and iron concentrate here in London? If so, for how long have you to take it, and can you send me the prescription or the name of it? How long does 2 ozs last?
2. What is the cost of the injection treatment, how many will you have to have, and what period will they cover?
3. Have you paid the doc that £1 you got, and have you anything else towards it? What is the bill for the whole thing likely to be?
4. To whom did you apply for that extra grant; wasn’t it the Sailors Soldiers something or other? I have a feeling that you can apply to a government department – the same one as sent the old boy to see you before the original grant was made – and that you will do better from them. Let me know what your knowledge is on this point. Can you also get some idea of what has been spent at Durrants in the last six or seven weeks and if it comes to any sum get a bill from him for it. We might have a go at the office, after all. With them, and this government department if I can find out where it is, we might solve the problem. I don’t want your recovery retarded by worry about the expense or to have you skimping on little things because of the extra cost. You are on the right track when you say that nothing is dear if it makes you well. Are you still taking your Guinness?
Now that, I think, ends the inquisition for the moment. I am sorry to harp on the financial side so much but I am only trying to help you and to share the worry of it, so if you can let me have answers to these points I might be able to help in some way.
And now, love, many thanks for your letter and all the flattering things you say about my letters. I’m so glad they do help you a little because when I write to you I do so as if I was sitting talking to you or, better still, lying in bed in the dark with my left arm under your head and my right straying to places while we thrash these matters out. And then, of course, you would have one of my very own course of injections – a course which will take a long time; probably a life time’s infliction on poor little Stelly-well! Not that I mind, of course. I’m always willing to help! And could I help you if you were here now! Oh, angel, the thought of it sends me all goosey.
Before I go into a coma, I’d better answer some of your queries and different points. Yes, I believe Harold will envy me. You know if you go the rounds of the various clubs and canteens you can get tickets for all sorts of shows. Charlie and Jack have had a few and I think that now I have settled down a bit I may stay in town on one or two of my days off and get hold of some myself. Dot, Jack and I were going to see Ronald Jeans’ show ‘Home And Beauty’ but it suddenly closed down on Monday – the day we were to go! Just my luck. So I have only been to one cinema show so far – a record I think Harold would have beaten by a long way! If you do mention about tobacco, what happened about the last lot? Did you do anything? I didn’t. It clean slipped my mind.
I’m so glad that you have made the effort to get out, apart from mere routine outings. I know how much of an effort it can be on occasions, but I think you will find that it has been worthwhile. Your letter is distinctly more like your old self as a result of it, and I have no doubt that represents an effort on your part, too. I do appreciate it, darling, and I honestly think all these little things will build up into the greater achievement of getting well again. Without being depressing, I don’t think you can hope to feel really top of the world during the winter months, but if you can slowly build up now, then when the spring comes you will feel perhaps better than you have done for a long long time. And God help John if he is anywhere within reach! And talking of that pleasant subject, I take it that you didn’t mention the matter – I almost wrote “raise the point”! – with Rees? I don’t blame you and I must say I appreciate all the things you say on that question – and agree with you, too.
I spent a very pleasant evening with Bill and Emily. I got there just before five for tea – a most pleasant meal of steak pie etc and marmalade pudding. They have a gorgeous flat – a real ‘Woman And The Home’ type of affair. It’s in a very pleasant and quiet part of Wimbledon. A ground-floor flat, exquisitely furnished in light oak, I think. Block floors, cream paint and a very light decoration scheme in general. In short – said he, cattishly – just the sort of place you can have without children and with money. I should say it costs a pretty penny, but Bill’s a hard worker and a good lad and I’m glad to see he’s done so well. I always feel very poverty stricken when I see the homes other fellows have built up. Still, ours has far, far more of the homey atmosphere, thank God. For all that, you’d be very interested to see it. All the rooms, by the way, are bigger than ours and the hall itself is about as big, at least, as our living room. One nice feature of the lounge was that in addition to a nice open fireplace there were electric heaters each side of the fire, set into the wall, if you just wanted to heat the place up for a few minutes.
After tea – or dinner – we went round to their local until ten o’clock and I was unlucky to be caught in the chair with two people drinking scotch! A pity, really. Still, it was a nice night so perhaps I shouldn’t begrudge it. You’ll be interested to know that both Bill and Emily have now settled down to life in London. They defend the people there on the grounds that 90% of them are, like themselves, provincials. And they don’t want to come back north! I must say I was a bit surprised, but London seems to get most people.
They both asked particularly to be remembered to you and both hope that you will soon be fighting fit again. Bill, by the way, is expecting to be called up for his medical at any moment and is going to try for the Navy. Emily makes no secret of the fact that she doesn’t want him to go, although she says “I suppose he’ll have to go if so many others have gone.” Bill’s attitude is very much the same as mine was: “Do nothing to get in and nothing to get out.” That, I think, covers that subject pretty extensively.
Congrats on your engineering feat with the stove! Nice work, love. It’s a dirty job, I know, and I should have done it long ago. If ever you have to do a job like that again, try holding the nut still and turning the bolt with the screwdriver. Sometimes – not always – it makes the job easier.
Give my love to May when she comes. I hope Auntie Amy will be out and about soon. Does it mean she will be parked on May for her convalescence?
Does this woman who is going to stay with Mother mean that Will really has gone, or is it just a preparation for his departure? I had a note from Mother a few days ago but she doesn’t mention him at all. This woman must be, from your description, a relative of Sadie Reid, of whom I think you have heard us speak on several occasions. We were kids together.
Now, angel girl, I think that just about exhausts all my news, views and answers to questions. I’ll try to prepare a list of Xmas cards in the very near future and I’ll keep it as brief as possible.
Well, sweetheart, do look after yourself. I love you too much to have you taking any risks as soon as you feel a little bit better. Oh, angel, I want to hold you and fuss you and make love to you, silently and volubly, tenderly and brutally. Anyway, I will. Don’t worry about that. And how you thought that the longer I’m away the better chance you have of getting well again! Selfish, but true, so make the most of every day, love.
If I’m to make sure of that post I must go. Bye until tomorrow, sweetheart. Give my love to the children.
All my love, angel. I love you very very dearly.
Ever your
Arthur X
P.S. If you see Mother, thank her for my watch which I received today. It was evidently posted by Eric but there was no note inside.

Nov 281942
 

Saturday
Chiswick
It’s Saturday and although I am on duty today Jack and I have just finished dinner because, knowing your letter would be waiting for me, I came home as soon as I finished at 1.30. It was a nice letter, too, angel. When once you get the messing about with this medicine finished and get started on it properly, you should feel a lot better. From what you say, you are already making progress and I’m ever so glad to hear it. These extra little efforts, physical and mental, which you are making will help you no end.
There is not a great deal to tell you. I spent a quiet day yesterday and Dot, Jack and I went out for a drink with a fellow named Jones from the flat upstairs. We were only out for about half an hour but it made a pleasant break. And that was all that happened yesterday.
Work has been very slow today and I have just dawdled along from 9 until 1.30. One interesting bit of gossip is that we are to be moved soon to a room of our own. Some of the lads take this as a sign that the powers that be are visualising the need for a bigger permanent staff here, but I think it is far too early to indulge in any interpretations like that. All we can do is wait and see what happens. At the moment we have a fairly high proportion of Wrens in the place – about 50/50 I should say. Whether they will bring in any more or not is hard to forecast. They may, of course.
And that, I think, is about all there is to tell you in the way of real news. Now that I am more settled in my mind about you, and more settled in the job, too, I think that during the coming week I may stay in London more on my days off and try to get into some of these free shows. Jack Gray has already been to eight! I might also get a chance of having a look at some of the shops to get some ideas for the stockings.
And talking of Xmas, is there anything special you want? If you can give me some ideas I’d be glad, because in these days presents will have to be useful as well as ornamental. If there is anything in the way of clothing you want, perhaps you will let me have a book of coupons. Perhaps you had better send me a book soon in any case, because I might see some small things I can pick up in the course of my meanderings about. You had better tell me how many coupons I can use on oddments I might see and, if you have any concrete suggestions, how many on other items for you. All this sounds as if I have thousands of pounds to spend, doesn’t it? Still, I may “touch” from the office. I hope so.

Sunday
Well, there’s nothing new at all to report today. We had a very busy night. Mad busy every minute of the seven hours.
Today we are going up to London to see the damage round St Pauls and that area – the part where the great fire was. I’ve wanted to see it for a long time and I’m hoping to make it today.
Jack and Dot send their love and hope that the improvement is continuing. They never fail to ask how you are.
I see that Xmas leave is not altogether banned, but that the same number of personnel will be on leave as last year. Can that be construed as meaning that I will be home, I wonder? Jack and Dot have not yet made up their minds about going home, but they seem pretty fed up with Mother’s messing about. I can’t say I blame them.
Well, love, I’m off now. I hope you are having a nice restful weekend and that you are feeling better. My love to the children.
Bye for now angel, and all my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Nov 301942
 

Monday
Chiswick
Hello Angel,
Back again in the good old Beaver Club, writing to you in comfort. Today is one of the many days I wish you were here with me, for it is a glorious day and there is no doubt that London has a charm all of its own in such conditions, for all I have to do when I leave the Admiralty is turn to the left and within a minute I’m in The Mall and outside the entrance to the Royal Park, a lovely place where there are hundreds of varieties of water fowl. You and the children would love it. Why can’t Liverpool and all the big provincial cities have lovely parks like these slammed down in the very centre for people to enjoy during working days?
From all this you will guess that for the first time since I came here I’m feeling pretty well normal. A variety of things are responsible for the change – the better news of you, a quiet but enjoyable day yesterday, and the fact that I’m just getting adjusted, mentally and physically, to these weird hours and conditions. I got home about 10.15 yesterday morning, had breakfast, lazed around, had a bath and a shave and then dinner, complete with a pint! About 3.30 we went to London by bus as a change from the train. We wandered round Cheapside and Fleet Street area until it was dark, viewing the tremendous damage done in the city by the fire blitz. We could not see it all in that short time, of course, but nothing that has been written, nor any of the films which have been taken, can possibly exaggerate the damage which has been done. There are enormous stretches, acres and acres of the most valuable land in the world, just laid waste. Since Jack saw it last, when big buildings were mere empty shells but still standing, the demolition workers have had a real go at it. Now most but not all of the buildings are down so that real Londoners are getting vistas never dreamed of before, and right in the midst of it all stands the dominating pile of St Pauls. No wonder the fanatics point to it as a symbol – despite the fact that within a quarter of a mile there are dozens of churches flat with the ground. The Armourers’ Guild building where Jack fire-watches is, funnily enough, the place where the fire began – or stopped, I don’t know which – for it stands on one side of a narrow street and facing it is a stretch of desolate rubble in size, say, the equivalent of from Morningside to South Road. There are lots of other comparatively small islands of damage, but this is the greatest. You know how I have always “collected” samples of raid damage, well this beats everything, although when demolition of the warehouses from the electric line down to the dock road is complete, and in a similar area in the south dock-land, Liverpool may show similar gaps. Anyway, from all this you will gather that the damage here is staggering.
Jack is happy as a sandboy showing anyone round London and certainly knows his stuff. He showed me lots of interesting places. Right in the midst of all this rubble, for instance, is a little heap of what looks like more rubble, but a plaque set in a little bit of wall still standing proclaims it to be part of the Roman wall of the city! Then there is a shop in the heart of the city beneath the shade of a great tree. The lease of the shop contains a clause that the lease shall last while the tree lives. Now, isn’t that typically English! Then there was a certain Duke (the Duke of Cumberland, I think) who insisted that his full name should be perpetuated in the name of some of the streets he owned. The result is that today there is a “George” St, “Villiers” St, “The” Alley, “Duke” St, “Of” Alley, “Cumberland” St. What delightful nonsense. But these are all the little things that go to make a trip like this interesting. From all these things, I’ve set my heart on seeing the Lord Mayor’s Show. What a sight that must be in peacetime. Perhaps in peacetime Dot and Jack will be in a house and will be able to put the whole family up if we can manage a visit to see that show. I’d love you and the children to see it. But that must suffice for the moment, I’m afraid.
When it got dark we went to the Strand Corner House in the hope of getting something to eat, but found queues a mile long there so we finished up at a taxi-drivers’ eating house at Charing X where we had a cup of tea and a cake. And so home to a salad tea, and a lounge in front of the fire. In the middle of Churchill’s speech – I see he forecasts bitter and bloody years ahead! – I went asleep and so did Dot. I woke in time to hear the last five minutes, then brought a pleasant day to an end with a pint bottle of dinner ale and so to bed. Altogether a very pleasant day because there was never any sense of hurry.
And that is almost all the news, I think. I haven’t had your letter today and I won’t get it until tomorrow as I’m due on watch at 1.30 and I have yet to have dinner.
If you feel as near to normal as I do today, you will be pushing horses over with one hand! I hope you are keeping up the improvement. Did Marjorie have any luck with your prescription? I hope she did, and I hope that you have already begun to pack yourself full of pig’s blood!
Angel, like you, I feel as if it is months since we held each other tight and really it is such a short time! Oh, precious, I do adore you and I do miss you. Get really fit and strong as soon as you can.
My regards to Dave. I’ll write as soon as I can. And my love to the children, too. Are they still behaving? I hope so. Now I’m off to post this.
All my love, sweetheart, and take care of yourself.
Ever yours,
Arthur X
P.S. Have you rung Hughie yet?

Dec 011942
 

Tuesday
Chiswick
Dearest,
This, I’m afraid, is going to be a very hurried note as I’m now in the train going to join the boys on a ticket scrounging expedition instead of sitting on my bottom all day writing to my dear little wifie! Actually, I’m afraid I have already missed the lads as I’m 10 minutes late now, but I’m going to town just the same. If I can get a ticket I’ll go on my own if need be. I feel like a nice change today.
The boys who volunteered for foreign service have gone to Iceland! They’ll be jumping wild if I know them.
Charlie had a letter from a pal of his and nearly all the lads we knew at Aberdeen were posted to ships as soon as they got to barracks, which probably means I have missed Frank. I’m sorry about that but I’ll write him at his home.
I won’t try to answer your letters now, but many thanks indeed for them, love. It’s great having them to look forward to – just like your spirit waiting for me in the house when I get home. Love to the children. I’m so glad to hear you have got the liver extract and that you are feeling better. All my love, sweet.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 021942
 

Wednesday
Chiswick
Darling,
Despite the date on this letter I’m actually writing it in a Toc H Club [service men’s club with a Christian ethos] within an hour of posting your other letter. At last I’m a fully fledged member of the ticket scrounging club and what a business it is! I’ve been in stitches at the antics of the lads as we went from one club to another. What happened was that Jack and Charlie tried for tickets for three of us before I got into town because the moral of this game is definitely “up in the morning” and most places seem to get their tickets at about 11am. They could only get two, as they won’t issue tickets except to people actually there. Anyway, they touched for tickets for the St James Theatre for tonight – a Michael Redgrave show. They also got tickets for a news theatre this afternoon and a matinee theatre show this afternoon, but they are not using those because they don’t think they’d have time to get to the evening show, which starts at 6, after having a meal. I hate that business of grabbing tickets and then not using them. It’s a real dog in the manger attitude. Anyway, when I joined the party the fun started all over again. We went first to the Crypt, where all the tickets had gone. Then on to the American Eagle Club where I got the cold shoulder! The Beaver Club, by the way, is now out of the list because they say the tickets are only for Canadian forces. Finally I chased the lads off to see the news reel and I came on here – right on the embankment next door to the Houses of Parliament which, incidentally, never fail to surprise me because they look just as they do on the sauce bottle! From the outside very little can be seen of the raid damage, by the way, although I’m told it’s been badly hit. I have touched for a ticket for the Vaudeville but I haven’t any idea at all what the show is. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.
Several times I have been going to tell you that I believe there are some theatres here which will issue tickets for servicemen and their wives. The Union Jack Club has married quarters – 4/= a night per couple, I understand. So if I am here a long time and don’t get leave, as looks quite possible at the moment for the leave rota should have begun early in November, I wonder what the chances are of you coming down for a long weekend in the spring? I’d love you to if it could be managed. I’m worrying less about leave than I did because I feel that after all I’m lucky to be here, especially when you think that if I had passed out as a telegraphist I’d now be either abroad or on the high seas! Do you ever think what a lucky break it was when they turned me down? I often do, despite the possibility of foreign service.
I’m glad you have “discovered” the British Restaurant because I know how you enjoy a meal cooked and served by someone else. All the reports I have heard of them have been good and they are certainly cheap enough. A change like that will do you good.
So you managed to get the things for your Xmas puddings and cakes. Nice going, sweet. I know what you mean about not having a lot of enthusiasm for Xmas this year, but I’d hate to feel that if I shouldn’t be there the place will be plunged in gloom. It’s nice to be missed so much but I do want the children to have a good time and if I’m not home I suggest you get drunk. Will you stay at home for Xmas? Somehow I can’t imagine the family having a Xmas outside our own home. I wouldn’t be able to visualise you all at any given moment if you were somewhere else.
What a worry this business of finding money to ensure your health is! I hope you can manage alright. I’m sorry to hear that you are going to have to cut down on Xmas. If the office sends anything I’ll be able to help you a bit.
Jean Lambert is certainly a mystery man. Like you, I get wild about these people with no visible means of support, even if they are quite nice fellows to drink with, as Jean is. By the way, shouldn’t it be Gene? Hope Ernest is not pulled in again. It will be lousy going back after a taste of freedom.
Wednesday dinner-time.
Rather than risk that postbox in Chiswick, I’m finishing this before I go home for dinner. Incidentally, I didn’t reply to your query as to whether there was anywhere else you could write to because I find myself going home on working days so often that it is only once in four or five days that I don’t have a letter from you.
Last night’s show was very good, but it was a war play, as you will see from the programme. I have marked one or two things on the programme as being typical of wartime conditions. I love the line in the air raid advice “if you feel you must go”! John Mills and Robert Wilton were both very good indeed, but I should have enjoyed the show more if the place had been better filled and if I had had some company. The Vaudeville is a lovely little place – just the type of theatre I like, small and intimate. By far the best type of theatre for a play. Mills, by the way, plays the part of a sailor who meets a girl in a train and eventually marries her in Coward’s film which we saw recently [‘In Which We Serve’]. Look out for him if you see it. He has quite a good part in it and plays it very well. People in London are, I believe, forecasting a big future for him. He is certainly very sincere in both the parts I have seen him play.
There is only one piece of news today. Quite a small matter but very interesting. We only received a weekly ration card today instead of a fortnightly one and the lad in the office said it is because we are to get civvie ration books next week! Without being unduly optimistic, that looks as if we are here for some time, doesn’t it? Let’s hope so, anyway.
Well, love, I must away and cook my dinner after I have read your letter which I hope to find waiting for me. Bye for now, angel, and all my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 031942
 

Thursday
Chiswick
Sweetheart,
So I forgot to call you anything in my last letter, eh? Well, that shouldn’t worry you a great deal for you know most of my vocabulary by now and at one time or another I think I’ve used it all on you! The explanation is probably that someone was overlooking, or was in a position to overlook, my letter. And I hate being in that position.
The Xmas problem is full of difficulties, not the least of which is the uncertainty of everything. At the moment the indications are that I will still be in this country, but even that is not CERTAIN, nothing ever is. On the score of money, I must confess that I’m hoping to get some from the office – the real reason I’ve been so anxious for Hughie to have my address – and some from Jane. From these two sources, quite apart from the possibility of Eric dropping a quid or so, I’ll get enough to buy small things for you and the children. Send that clothing coupon book along or I’ll buy stuff in the black market through one of the lads I know here and then, as you know, I’ll have to pay through the nose for them! Please yourself, love, but there it is.
As to other people’s plans, all I know is that Dot and Jack are buying only for the children and for Mother, and Lilian and Eric are doing the same, or so they assured me when they were last at Crosby. Beyond that, of course, I cannot go and I only hope that information will do something to offset your nightmare.
Although they have not definitely made up their minds yet, I doubt if Jack and Dot will be home for Xmas because Dot was only saying on Monday that as this woman has taken the front room everyone will be more or less confined permanently to the living room. She will miss the visit home, though, and she made some reference to the possibility of Lilian putting them up. So it shows she’d like to get home if she possibly could. I doubt if Jack is very keen and if I’m still here he might see me as an argument for staying in London for Xmas, especially as I shall be off duty that day. Not a word of all this to Mother, of course. So far as she is concerned you don’t know if they are coming or not. As soon as I know anything really definite about their plans I’ll tell you.
Just before I leave this Xmas subject, one final thing – send the book of coupons together with official indication as to the number of coupons I can use and some suggestions for yourself and the children. I may have to use coupons and I may not, but I want to have some in case of need and I also want to use any money I MAY have sensibly. Now, no nonsense on this subject because I won’t be any more silly with coupons than without them.
I think Wendy’s letter cards, by the way, are a good stunt and they will help to balance Michael’s tank as personal effort towards their Xmas. How much have you to pay on the doll Wendy got? And is it clothed, or are you going to clothe it for her? And possible additions to the Xmas card list are
Hughie et fam! (De-dah)
Norah and Ivor
Geo and Hennion.
Will you add them to the list if you think they should go on?
I was interested in Wendy’s “off-white” knitting, and also in her own puzzlement (what a funny word) as to what it is going to be. Soon, heaven preserve me, she will be wanting to knit things for Daddy.
I have just had a brainwave. If Slack does get a Xmas tree, and if I am not at home for the holiday, what chance of Dave getting a picture? I’d like that and I’d also like a really nice one of you when you feel strong enough to face the camera. A photograph I would like, if there is one to spare, is one of those postcard enlargements of Michael taken from the Polyfoto pictures.
What do you think of the Beveridge Report? I wonder how much of it will be shelved? You can bet there will be a bitter fight to whittle it down bit by bit while we are all gagged, politically. I always knew that sooner or later social and life insurance would have to become a fundamental care of the government and, if it is held up for a time, it certainly will come. Oh well, we will see sooner or later how little the people will be fobbed off with. Some time I must get hold of a copy of the report and digest it. I can’t see a grant of £10 leading to a great flood of babies and I’m not clear as to the qualification for drawing the 8/- a week for children under 16 years of age. This age, incidentally, seems to take it for granted that secondary education, in the universal sense, is not going to go beyond that age for some years to come. At the other end of the age list it is surprising to see the suggestion that people should work to a greater age. The unions will probably have something to say there.
Well, it’s interesting to see that I’ve been right on some of these things. But these days I’m just about as politically dead as it’s possible to be.
Many thanks and those of Jack and Dot, for the cutting about the raids. That’s another book I must get hold of.
Well, angel, I must be off before I succumb to a coma induced by your last couple of paragraphs in the letter I found waiting for me when I went home yesterday. Precious, I still love you, more and more. Some day I’ll hold you and know that I need never let you go. What a day that will be. Until then – and after then – all my love, sweet, and let me know how you are feeling after a few days on the medicine.
Bye for now, love.
All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X

Dec 041942
 

Friday
Chiswick
Dearest,
Many thanks for your yesterday’s letter. Like you, I always feel a little different when I realise that we are in December. This year, of course, that feeling is accentuated, but I have learned by now to let the future take care of itself and that is just what I am doing now. I still haven’t had a look at a single shop yet but will begin popping in to the various stores next week, I think.
I have just discovered that I did not enclose the programme of the show I went to the other night so am sending it on now.
Jack and Dot have just bought two lovely Indian carpets at cost price. They are lovely and make all the difference to the rooms. Don’t mention them to Mother in case Dot hasn’t done so. Dot was talking the other day of moving into a bigger flat if there’s any chance of me being here any length of time, but I put my foot down. I’m not being responsible for any change in other people’s homes, much as I would like to have a room of my own, for that would mean a better chance of you coming down for a stay. But I know what would happen. As soon as ever she moved, I’d get a draft. It’s tempting fate too much, despite the visions it conjures up! Oh, sweet, if only we could look forward to a week like that in the early spring, what a difference it would make to the outlook now. Anyway, that is another subject not for discussion with Mother.
You have evidently been having a hectic time with your clearances and I hope you have not overdone things. I know just how you felt about that front room. It used to give me the willies, but how are you going to stop the children from mucking it up again?
I hope your golliwog turns out all right. It should certainly be a hit with Jennifer, but I only hope that you have taken an OLD black sock. I thought I only had one pair!
Well, angel, there’s not a lot to write about today. Although I was off yesterday I didn’t do anything special. I went home with the intention of writing stacks of letters, but only got a start on one to Hughie which I have just finished. Next I must write to Eric and then to Ralph and Percy. I’ll have to settle down to some serious writing one day.
Now I must be off to dinner, then to work and the pay office. We are being paid on the spot now, which saves a lot of messing about.
Goodbye for now, angel, and let me know how the pigs’ blood is affecting you. When do you go to Rees again? Is it on a Wednesday? I’ll be interested to know his report on you. Let me know all he says and ask him if it is necessary for me to come home for a conference on your health. That might be one way of getting home! My love to the children.
I still adore you, sweet. All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X

Dec 051942
 

Saturday
Chiswick
Dearest,
It’s Saturday morning and, from experience, I expect there will be little chance of writing quietly later in the day so I thought I’d make a start now. First of all, you’ve got it wrong about the volunteers. They’ve gone to ICEland! Sorry my writing is so putrid. Another point on which you seem rather fogged is the leave question. There is NEVER any weekend leave from here without working three full days for it. In addition ALL leave – other than compassionate – has been stopped. Normally the leave rota would have started, I understand, just before we arrived and we would have tacked on at the end. From what we can gather, however, the new rota is likely to begin soon and so, as there are not a lot of tapeists here (the Wrens run their own rota) we may be home some time in the next two or three months. We get our ration books, by the way, so that’s a hopeful sign.
I meant to tell you yesterday that Jack and Dot bought a waterproof toilet hold-all, a lovely thing with pockets for all sorts of things, for me for Xmas. They decided that as I have to carry everything backward and forward every day because we have no lockers, it was silly to keep it and they gave it to me on Thursday night. It’s a beauty, and must have cost a pretty penny. I’ll show it to you when I come home and then I’ll bring one of my own hair brushes away because it will be a better fit.
You have got Xmas figured out very well indeed, sweet, and I think you have gone as far as you possibly can in mental arrangements. Leave it at that for the moment and if I can get home, by hook or by crook, I will. If I do manage it, it will be late on Xmas day when I get in because I can’t leave here until I finish on Xmas morning, which would mean getting home 4pm or 5pm. Anyway, that’s only a possibility and is not likely to crystallise until about a week or ten days before Xmas.

Sunday
As I thought, there was little chance of writing once Jack and Dot got in. We fiddled about – and I had a snooze – until about 5 o’clock when we went into town to celebrate Jack’s birthday, which is today. We had a few drinks, very reasonable and harmless in number, although I think Jack would have liked to have made a night of it. Dot wasn’t playing, however! But don’t refer to that at any time. Afterwards we went to the Dominion and saw two more war pictures, ‘Went The Day Well’ and ‘Wings For The Eagle’, finishing up at a place called The Dive for a pint and cod’s roe sandwiches! Very tasty. Perhaps I was prejudiced because of the Aberdeen association, but I quite liked The Dive, which is quite a big place.
What a shame that Martins should have found your coat after all this time, especially as it meant buying another after all. You seem to be having a tough time financially and it worries me that I can do nothing to help you.
I think your idea of calendars is a very good one. It would help to show that the people concerned had not been entirely forgotten.
While I remember, will you get the shuttle back and I’ll try a place in London here which mended Dot’s – and that is the same make. Don’t forget to do that and I’ll see to it as soon as I can for you. It was your mention of the golly that reminded me of it.
Jack and Dot both send their love to you and hope you are feeling better. Is this medicine making you feel better in yourself? I hope it is. From the jobs you have tackled lately, you certainly seem to be feeling more fit. Oh, angel, I am looking forward to seeing you again. Do look after yourself and, just in case I do manage to get away for Xmas, do be careful not to run any extra risks or overdo things, won’t you?
Give my love to the children and thank Wendy for her little note. I had a letter from Mother yesterday and she enclosed one of Wendy’s drawings of our back garden which I thought very good indeed.
Oh, sweet, I want to hold you tight today. If only I could! But I must dash home for dinner and a sleep. Bye until tomorrow, precious, when I should have a letter from you.
All my love, sweet.
Ever,
Arthur X

Dec 071942
 

Monday
Chiswick
Darling,
I haven’t been home yet, although it’s now 11 o’clock, so I can’t answer any points which there may be in your letter and I’m afraid there’s very little news today.
I had a letter from Hughie yesterday, forwarded from Cookham, and he tells me that Alan is home and eating all before him. Madge, glad as she is to have him in the house again, finds it difficult to keep her hands off him when he orders this and that in his peremptory hospital manner! Still, they must be glad to have all those journeys to and from the hospital every day cut out. What a strain that time must have been on both of them.
Hughie, as usual, writes a newsy letter of all the office activities and how all the lads are faring. Cockburn, who was worried stiff about going into the services, is even more worried now. He’s had his medical and has been graded 4! A specialist says it’s albumen or something. Co always worried about himself at the least little thing that went wrong. Poor Helen will have a hell of a time with him, I should imagine. Dick O’Sullivan, who lost the first finger on his right hand many years ago, is hoping that will keep him out. But I have my doubts. Monty Taylor is still there, large as life. And that, I think, is all the office news.
There’s not a great deal more to tell you. Charlie Mitchell is bringing his wife down for a week, on Friday, and they are going to stay at the Union Jack married quarters. The charge is 4/6 a night, but whether or not that includes breakfast I can’t say. As there is a nursery, she is bringing the little girl down – she’s three – and leaving the baby at home. Seems a bit of a weird arrangement to me, but there you are. Jack Gray, too, is in hot water with his wife for not writing home and she got so worried that she sent him a wire on Saturday! Apparently, it was about this time last year that Jack was in hospital and as she knew he had a cold she got worried.
I’m getting right down to typical woman’s gossip, aren’t I? It’s not often I’m so short of news and views. There is one thing I nearly forgot to mention. Jack said, yesterday, that they may come home if I do, but that if I stay here they will definitely stay. Dot, however, has not said anything and as she seems to wear the trousers in this outfit it might be as well not to say anything until you hear something from her. By the way, I know you are mad busy with Xmas looming up, but if you can spare a few minutes to write them a note, it would probably be appreciated.
While I’m in town I think I’ll try for a theatre ticket today. I’ll let you know tomorrow what luck I have. I’d be a lot more enthusiastic about tickets if you were here to share them! Oh, sweet, why wasn’t I one of those skimping, scratching, saving kind of men? If I had been, we would be able to afford all these things, wouldn’t we? Another interesting point in Hughie’s letter is that there is the usual doubt in the office as to whether they are going to get ”IT” this Xmas. I can well imagine all the arguments! Well, love, I must away, in search of riotous living in London’s theatre-land.
All my love, sweet, and I hope Rees will be satisfied with the progress you are making when you see him on Wednesday.
Bye till tomorrow, angel. I love you still.
Ever,
Arthur X

Dec 081942
 

Tuesday
Chiswick
Dearest,
I hope that date is right, but I never know what day in the week it is these days! And, like you, I feel the days slipping by. That is all to the good, for today a notice appeared on the board saying leave would start forthwith and specifying the order in which ratings will go on leave. Our batch is last on the list, of course, and without working it out in detail I reckon it will be roughly three months from now before I get away. Oh well, it gives us something to look forward to. The rush of getting Xmas over will make two or three weeks go quickly enough and that will help to shorten the time for you.
Now I’ll answer, briefly, the points in your welcome letter received yesterday. I’m getting as bad as you for hating Sundays because there is no letter. Here goes then. By now, of course, you know that Hughie has written and I have replied. I hadn’t thought of presents from India arriving late but will CABLED money be in the same category? Anyway, I won’t bank on it. Thanks for the coupons and suggestions, love. Don’t worry, I won’t buy them all unless I have a windfall. While I have had a little stock of tobacco I have been able to save a few bob – not a lot, but it will help – I got 5/- from the office fund yesterday. The letter was posted Nov 27 and has been wandering all round the country ever since. Your suggestions will save me peering aimlessly in shop windows.
Have we the negatives of Michael anywhere? I can’t remember if we have or not.
I’m glad you had at least one pleasant surprise in connection with Michael’s coat, which sounds a lot cheaper than Wendy’s. Like you, I’m looking forward to seeing him in a school cap. Wendy’s encounter with the dog has not, I hope, made any deep impressions on her.
Those, I think, are the main points in your letter. Your roll-on, if one is obtainable, is a medium size, isn’t it?
Last night I went with Charlie to the Saville Theatre (10/6 seats) and saw Leslie Henson, Stanley Holloway and Douglas Byng in ‘Fine And Dandy’. I got a programme to send to you and have left it in my case in the office but I WILL try to remember to send it tomorrow. It was a nice bright show on the whole, although I thought the dancing and singing not up to the general standard one expects. I’ve always been super-critical of stage dancing, which has to be good to be at all effective and Dorothy Dickson, who is the chief dancer, has a daughter of about 25 so she is no chicken! There are several good scenes packed with Henson humour, however, notably one where he is a cutter in a fashionable West End ladies’ tailors. The things he does to the clients are nobody’s business, but one of them flies from the fitting room clad in her scanties, to the great delight of the lads! Another good scene is a radio burlesque, first of the “Sweetheart of the Forces” (a little malicious I thought, although I agreed heartily with the general sentiments) and secondly of ‘The Brains Trust’! Henson was Prof. Woad! Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be able to pick out the really funny stuff from the programme. In the sketch ‘Fate’, the audience were invited to dictate the actions of the characters in this “eternal triangle” drama. As you can imagine, Henson made the most of it, to such an extent that the woman in the play was herself in stitches at one point. A very pleasant evening but Charlie and I agreed certainly NOT worth half a guinea. Such is gratitude!
There is not a great deal more to tell you, angel. The weather has, thank goodness, been absolutely wonderful ever since we came here and in London that means such a lot. Jack said the other day that there’s still a fine show of spring flowers in the Royal Parks each year and that, as the bulbs are the gift of the various seed firms, you can, if you go the right way about it, get some of them when they are lifted. It’s looking a long way ahead but it is worth considering.
Oh, precious, it does seem ages since I saw you, but somehow you have been very close to me lately. I see you often and sometimes I just shut my eyes and call you up. When you come to me a warm glow goes right through me and, as this often happens on the train, I’m sure people must wonder what I’m looking so smug about. But then, they don’t know you, do they? I’m looking forward to what Rees has to say about you, so don’t forget to let me know.
Give my love to the children and tell them I often think of them, too.
Bye for now, sweet, and all my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 091942
 

Wednesday
Chiswick
Dearest,
I’m afraid I missed the boat – or rather the post – yesterday. I wrote to you and Eric before dinner and then went for a breath of fresh air. I put the two letters in my pocket and, as I did not pass a pillar box, forgot all about them until supper time, so the earliest post I could get from the Strand Post Office was the 8.30am. I’m sorry, love, but it is so easily done.
It’s now 10.45 and I’m hoping that by now you will have seen Rees. You haven’t, in spite of my repeated inquiries, told me what the effect of this medicine has been. Has it made any really marked difference in the way you feel? I do hope it is making a definite difference to you. Do you feel any more cheerful in yourself? I know you are evidently feeling stronger, but that’s a bit different from feeling really cheerful.
People here are already getting the Xmas feeling and are fiddling to try to work in a short break at Xmas or New Year, but there has been no indication yet as to what the official reaction is going to be. Travel permits may yet be refused. I’m fiddling with the rest but so far there is nothing definite in the offing.
As I haven’t yet been home, I can’t answer your letters, but will do so in the morning. I’m enclosing the ‘Fine And Dandy’ programme for you. I’m sorry this is such a short note but there’s no real news today. It isn’t news to tell you I love you more than ever – but I do and I’m missing you a lot lately.
Bye for now, sweet. Tell me what the vet said today. My love to the children, and all my love to you, angel.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 101942
 

Thursday
Chiswick
Darling,
A fortnight today is Xmas Eve. You’re quite right, the time is flying past and there’s so little definitely settled. Before I go on to answer both your letters which I got yesterday, let me tell you the latest leave developments. Yesterday I got hold of one of the lads in the opposite watch to us and fixed it with him to work Boxing Day for me, in return for New Year’s Eve. So far as it went, that was OK and this morning I made some inquiries about the possibility of getting home. Apparently, there’s a definite ban on travelling unless we can get a liberty ticket endorsed “permitted to travel”. At the moment the odds seem to be against them being granted. Still, I’m going to persevere right up to the last moment. The great snag is that if I take a chance and do travel, or try to get a ticket, I’ll have to pay full civvy fare. Do you think it is worth it if I have to do that? Let me know what you think on this point by return. From all the appearances, it seems as though we will be “up in the air” right up to the last minute, as usual. Anyway, I’ll keep you posted with developments as they occur, but at the moment they don’t look too good.
Now to answer your letters. The calendars seem to be a good idea. Why not send Lilian and Eric a card and give them the calendar from the hypothetical tree? Or do you think that looks a bit too thin? The school seems to have sound ideas on the question of Xmas shopping. If you’d had the time, the shopping bags would have been an ideal solution to the present problem for all the women folk. Michael will be thrilled with his fort and soldiers and I only hope you are not spending more than you can afford. I must confess I feel very much out of it this Xmas and, having no money to spend, find it very difficult to work up any real enthusiasm. In my present mood I will, quite selfishly, be darned glad when it’s over and we start moving towards my leave. It was good of Audrey to remember Michael like that – but she’s one of the people I would prefer not to bother. Stupid of me, and unfair to the children I suppose, but there you are. I’m glad you have progressed a bit with the Xmas Day arrangements and that in itself must be a load off your mind. Jack and Dot seem to have made up their minds pretty definitely not to bother coming home. Yes, I like the idea of a nigger girl doll. Bang goes another of my socks, I suppose! Incidentally, I was tickled to have raised such a storm about it! And that, I think, covers pretty well all there is to be said about Xmas, except that I’m fed to the teeth at the prospect, and it’s nice of the children to want me home so much. I’ll probably go round sulking all day, or else take Jack out at dinner time and get him thoroughly boozed, thereby incurring Dot’s everlasting enmity!
I’m so sorry to hear about the boil, angel. Poor old Stelly-well! They can be such a pest, too. Still, I only hope you are right in thinking that it’s the medicine driving the bad out – as if any medicine could ever bring out the bad in you. That’s my forté, sweet! Seriously, I wonder if the medicine is too rich for you and if Rees will decide to reduce the dosage? Anyway, he will have done that by now, for you saw him yesterday – I hope!
Well, sweetheart, that answers all the points in your letter, except the last one which deals with your threats as to what you will and can do to me when I come home. It’s an encouraging sign and you are welcome to do your best with me. Oh, sweet, I’ve got that lovely feeling deep down in me which always presages coma. If I was only in a quiet place where I could relax undisturbed I should have an erection right to my shoulder level – I’m sure of that! Oh, angel, when I do come home I want you to be well and strong so that you can seduce me, rape me, and pet me. What wouldn’t I give to be home and being petted and fussed by you. Angel, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Still, we have some idea of a date now. Angel, I adore you and I only wish this damned war was over so that we could be together again.
Just two interesting points I’d like settled. How many solubles are there left? And how would Xmas have fitted in with vapours? I have an idea they run fairly close to Xmas, don’t they? Don’t forget to let me know about the solubles because if, at the last minute, there is a chance of coming home I want to be well prepared!
Just to come down to earth again, I went to see Jack Hulbert’s show at the Palace yesterday afternoon and thoroughly enjoyed it from a 15/- seat! I’m living in the lap of luxury these days. The show was a bit light and only two good artistes like the Hulberts could hope to hold it together, but it was a refreshing change. If there is a chance of you coming in the spring, we must try to see one or two shows together. I know you would like that. Could you tap Tom Arnold for seats for a couple of his shows? This ‘Full Swing’ is his and so is ‘Dancing Years’. It’s worth thinking about, but you know that position better than I do.
Well, angel, I really must leave you now. It’s nearly 2.30 and I haven’t had any lunch yet.
All my love, sweetheart. You are more precious to me than ever, so I do hope you are getting much stronger.
Bye until tomorrow.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. Hug the children for me and tell them I often think of them.

Dec 111942
 

Friday
Chiswick
Sweetheart,
I’m glad the doctor is so determined to get you really fit, for there is no doubt you must have been off colour for some time – as witness my surprise when I first saw you at Aberdeen. In fact, had you gone to the doctor then you might have been ever so much better now. Anyway, there’s no point in harking back to that at this stage. All that matters now is that you should really build yourself up, not merely for a few weeks, but for the next year or so! I’m glad Rees told you off about working off your energy as soon as you feel a bit fit.
I really must write to Mother today and I must also write to Percy and Ralph, although I don’t know what Ralph’s address is as he has no permanent home. I was interested in Eric’s idea of going to South Africa after the war. I suppose Lilian chose that place because it is warm! She and our Jane are a well-matched pair for feeling cold. I can well imagine Mother’s ire at having Billie’s pal dumped on her – that is if he was expecting to stay at 25. There may have been no suggestion of that at all.
Many thanks for Wendy’s note, which I thought was amazingly well done. She is certainly coming on a lot. This Miss E[??] seems to be very thoughtful and something of a psychologist. A stunt like that paves the way for a scrounging expedition! No, that’s not meant unkindly, but more in admiration because, after all, the decorations and jellies (if any!) which are scrounged are for the benefit of the kids themselves. I can well imagine Wendy’s excitement at all the preparations. They used to be excited enough just hanging up our own decorations at home. Are you going to send that little Xmas tree and the cardboard Father Xmas? I should write her name on whatever she takes before it leaves the house and that will save a lot of trouble at school.
Now, how’s the boil? Has it come to a head yet? I know what a lousy time you have with these things as a rule, and I do hope it clears up in reasonable time for you. As you say, there’s no fun in a shopping expedition with a handicap like that. What did Rees say about it?
Yesterday I was free from 1.30 to 8 so went to Oxford St and had a wander round a small corner of Selfridges. I think there were some roll-ons there, but there was such a milling mob of women round the counter that even my stout heart quailed at the thought! I might get Dot to see if she can find one anywhere. The selection of children’s things was amazingly poor. One very small corner was devoted to wooden toys and that was all I could see. Prices were outrageous and very few of the things were worth having. There was nothing among the children’s books worth picking up and I tried in vain for a child’s primer there. However, when I was on the way home I saw from the top of the bus a place called The Children’s Own Book Corner so I’ll call in there one day. I got a scarf for Michael, which cost one coupon. It’s a dark brown, or rather that was what it looked like in the shop but in daylight it looks more a rust colour. I DO hope it will be alright.
I saw some rather nice little lace collars and other forms of neck-wear which I thought I might get for Dot, but when I got home she’d bought some from a girl in the office who makes them! I was annoyed. Now I’ll have to hunt round all over again for something for her if I’m going to be here at Xmas – and it looks now as if I shall. I will have to get some small thing for them. I’ve got no ideas at all for Jack.
If you have lots of money, there are still loads of nice things to be bought in London – silverware, toilet stuff (7/6 for bath salts which would have cost 1/6 at the most in peacetime) and loads of good leather stuff.
There are very few days left in which to buy and despatch things. I’m wondering how you are going to get all the things which may come from here into their stockings. I think the best way will be for me to send a parcel addressed to each of them and marked Not To Be Opened and then Father Xmas can find them downstairs and put them into their stockings. It will help to fill their stockings up and give them the fun of opening the parcels, too. I might also send a few odds and ends, if there are any, to you to put into their stockings. Then, of course, what are you going to do? Will you put your parcel into your own stocking, to keep up the illusion? That might be the best way. And don’t forget – your parcel is not to be opened, either! There will be trouble if you do. All this, of course, depends on whether I can see what you want! Eh, dearie me, it is a rum business this year. Incidentally, if anything does arrive for me from the office, send me a wire so that I can borrow on the strength of it, and then send the letter to me by registered post.
There is a brighter note being struck about long leave, just at the moment. The old hands here reckon that I should be home in six or eight weeks from now. If that is so, I’m wondering if I should jeopardise the chances of that leave by taking French leave at Xmas? I possibly could manage it by paying full civvy fare and by getting a civvy to buy my ticket for me on Xmas morning. I’m wondering whether the couple of quid it would cost me couldn’t be put to better use? What do you think, love? I’d go crackers if I got picked up – although I think that is most unlikely. If I was picked up, however, there’s no doubt I’d be carpeted for it, although what the penalty would be I don’t know. The only thing I can see that they could do is stop either leave or pay, or both. Let me know what you think, love – and then I’ll please myself! Well, sweetheart, it’s midday and I’m off home for something to eat and a bit of shut-eye before doing some letter writing. Bye for now. My love to the children and don’t forget to tell Wendy I enjoyed reading her first real letter – complete with school address!
Take good care of yourself, angel, for you’re a very precious person, you know.
All my love, pet.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 121942
 

Saturday
Chiswick
Dearest,
As I have about 10 minutes to spare before I creep into the Crypt for a bite to eat, I thought I had better make a start on your letter, although there’s not a great deal to say at the moment. One thing of which you would be jealous is the lovely weather. I have just had a stroll around Regents Park, where I saw the gardeners putting down great fat tulip bulbs the other day. Since we have been here the weather has been quite good, but the last couple of days have been really marvellous, and the sun shining through a window has even felt faintly warm. Today the park was veiled in very light blue – that misty, scented blue from piles of burning leaves. It was lovely to be out.
I had a letter from Hughie the other day and he gives me all the office news – but no news as to whether or not the ghost will walk this time! Hughie’s letters are always a delight to read – full of news, wisecracks and little bits of slightly malicious gossip. You will be interested to know that the office have paid the full bill for Alan’s illness – hospital fees, operations, and maintenance in hospital, a full £8 [??] worth! As Hughie says, what a load off their minds. I’m glad they touched so lucky, for the mental strain of Alan’s illness must have been pretty heavy for both of them.
I’m sorry to hear of the affliction, like unto Job, and more sorry still to think that it is undoing all the good work by getting you down in the dumps. What did Rees say when you showed him your arm?
And now Sunday has caught up with me. Which means that it is impossible to get down to serious writing, for today a Mr Saunders – an old journalist who used to live in the same house as Jack and Dot at Wandle [??] Rd – has been invited for the day. He is sitting here now, on one side of the fire while I’m scribbling this. I’ll try to write you a decent note tomorrow. In the meantime I do hope you are feeling better and that Rees has done something for you. I hope it is better now. I wonder if you did manage to get to town?
Now I must be off to the post, love. Take care of yourself and I hope you will get better soon.
All my love, darling. My love to the children. Bye until tomorrow.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 141942
 

Monday
Chiswick
Dearest,
This will have to be a very short note as I’m off from 1.30 to 8 and I want to get to one or two places looking for odds and ends as the time is getting very short now for posting things up home.
Did I tell you that the latest expectation of leave is in 6 or 7 weeks from now, providing everyone doesn’t go applying for extensions of leave on compassionate grounds. One girl who is away has already done that and has thrown us all back one week already. That is one of the great dangers here, for they will only allow one off at a time.
Apart from that there’s very little news. I’m hoping to read, when I get home, that you have had the boil-cum-abscess, or whatever it is, attended to and that the pain has lessened a lot. I hope you won’t be silly and go rushing round doing things for Xmas and wear yourself out in the process. To hell with the work and get properly better. I hate this business of you being perpetually ill. Leave everything until you get really on your feet again.
I’m actually feeling lonely and fed up, despite being at Dot’s, though for goodness sake don’t even hint at that to her. So far, however, it hasn’t occurred to me to start taking a dame round. Thanks for the idea, love, and I’ll be sure to let you know how I get on as a lonely and misunderstood husband!
I had another lovely dream about you the night before last and that puts me on ahead, for I had another I forgot to mention only a couple of days before that. So you see, with all your germs and boils and styes and abscesses I’ve still a lot of love for you. Just the right amount, you always have said! Sorry I can’t stop now, angel. Bye till tomorrow, and I do hope all this business will end soon. All my love, precious.
Ever,
Arthur X

Dec 151942
 

Tuesday
Chiswick
Dearest,
It’s funny the way I can usually sense your mental attitude at the time you are writing letters. For the last few days they have had that “well-I-don’t-feel-like-writing-and-I-don’t-give-a-damn-who-knows-it” atmosphere and then, in the footnote of yesterday’s letter, quite apart from the information that your abscess had burst – and I’ve just had sausage for breakfast! – there was a buoyant note which has been missing for so long. I’m so glad you have got relief from it at last, sweet. Now for heaven’s sake don’t go to extremes and work yourself to death so that by the time Xmas does come you will be all washed out. Save your energy up a bit or you will never get properly fit. And, by the way, you never told me what Rees said about it. Did you show it to him?
To answer your letter briefly. Chris seems to have had the normal Father Xmas experience and was probably as disappointed as all parents. Will Harold come out to see you this time? My respects if he does, and if you are writing to Auntie Amy give her my best wishes for a speedy recovery. It was nice of Mrs Reid to remember the children when getting a Xmas tree. The last promise Vic made me was that if there was a tree in town he’d get it for them. That’s all I can say on that and he will most probably turn up late on Xmas Eve with one and with some things for the children. Sorry about the Gregson pride on the theatre question. I think I’d feel just the same.
Now, to report on progress with the Xmas shopping. I have managed to find some early readers for Wendy. They are small paper-backed books and are written in a graded series. I won’t tell you how much they were until you have seen them. They are called step one, step two etc, but the earliest I could get was step 4 and there are very few two-syllable words in them. They certainly seem to be a good idea and I got three or four so that she can go forward from one to the other, but will you see that she can read one before tackling a second? Otherwise the main purpose will be spoiled because, although they are illustrated, they are essentially reading books. Getting those and a few Xmas cards and making a fruitless search for Wendy’s comb occupied all my time!
All the fellows with children the age of ours are going mad about the price of things. The wireless operator for whom I punch tapes, and who sits next to me, however, is delighted because a pal of his has made him a fort about a foot square for 25/-! He says quite proudly that the ones in the shops are 10/- dearer. I’m very much afraid he hasn’t the Johnson touch! Pardon the modesty.
Now about Xmas leave. I think I’ll decide that unless I can get permission to travel – and that seems pretty hopeless – I won’t come. For one thing, the civvy fare is 40/5 and at the moment there’s no sign of great wealth suddenly appearing from anywhere. Secondly, if I was picked up it might jeopardise my chances of long leave a month or five weeks after Xmas. And thirdly, £2 is a very precious sum to us just at the moment. I’d sooner give it to you to put on one side for the possible chance of a trip down here some time in the spring. I think that if we could look forward to me being home a few weeks after New Year and then to you coming down here a few weeks after that, it would be a far better long-term policy than me dashing home for Xmas uneasily. And, in saying all this, there’s no need for me to remind you what Xmas at home means to me. Not only that, but if I don’t come home, the chances of one of the children going sick are greatly minimised!
Well, sweet, I’m off now for another trot round to see what I can find. I’ve still got to get some small things for Jack and Dot and a little comb for Wendy.
Very soon the postal arrangements are going to get all cluttered up so don’t be surprised if some of next week’s letters arrive late.
Now, sweetheart, I must be off. Bye until tomorrow and I do hope you are feeling better now. Give my love to the children. Has Wendy started to learn cards yet?
I do love you, sweet, and am looking forward already to early February. Please try to repeat your usual splendid arrangements in regard to vapours!
All my love, angel.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 151942
 

Tuesday
Southport
Dear Arthur,
We were very pleased to hear from you, and of course delighted to know of your present billet. Let’s hope they decide to leave you there.
Did you receive the watch? Mother asked me to post it and if you have not received it please let me know early so that I can take it up with the P.O.
I saw Stella at Mother’s house a few days ago and was very much struck by how much better she looked. Either the rest she had, or the liver extract, has done her some good and I hope she’ll keep free from colds now.
We were interested to know you are able to visit the theatres in London and hope you will see some good shows. My short experience of London theatres left me with the impression that one show in three was a good one, one mediocre, and the third so poor that it would not pass in the provinces at all.
I was in London for a night last week – on very short notice to visit the Air Ministry and dash back on the 3pm train from Euston next day. The meeting lasted until 2 o’clock so I did not have time to look round or get in touch with you or Doris. I’m afraid we shall not see you at Xmas time, even if you manage to get home then, as we have decided to take the chance of a few days at Worsley. I had previously arranged to go to Eaton Avenue on Xmas Day and to your house in the evening, but Lilian pointed out when I got home that it would not be worth going to Worsley on Saturday and returning on Sunday. We hope to go to Eaton Avenue and Stella’s on the following weekend instead, if she will have us then.
I don’t suppose I will be able to write again before Xmas so please take this as it. With our best wishes for a happy Christmas and plenty of leave. We are both fairly fit – and I think the vaccine treatment has helped me a lot. The Isle of Man job is nearly finished and things are temporarily a bit quieter. We hope to see you soon – til then, love from us both.
Eric & Lilian

Dec 161942
 

Wednesday
Chiswick
Dearest,
I thought of you last night when we were listening to ‘The Brains Trust’. Were you putting the final touches to the nigger doll? I was very intrigued by the unanimity with which the ‘B.T.’ chose ‘War And Peace’ with ‘Pickwick’ as second choice as the novel they would have been most proud to have written. Have you read ‘War And Peace’, and if so what is it about and what were your reactions to it? I’m interested to know more of it.
When I got your letter yesterday and felt the enclosure in it I thought the office had coughed up, but it was a letter from Ralph Oliver. He and Percy are evidently stationed somewhere near Warrington waiting to go overseas. I have told them to drop you a line and call on you if they would like to, and I have said that if they are still there when I get my leave I’ll fix something up with them. I’d like to see them again before they go abroad.
Don’t worry about Michael wanting a crane. With the barrow and the fort – you’d better ask Dave how that is getting on, by the way – he is doing very well indeed for a wartime Xmas. I’m glad Wendy is getting a sewing box. I had thought on those lines but turned it down some days ago. By the way, did you ever thank Audrey for the flowers and eggs she sent on the day you were going to Limedale? Fancy meeting Norah and Ivor. Are they spending Xmas at Waterloo or at Blackpool?
I know only too well what you mean about missing me during the Xmas preparations. I shall feel it most on Xmas Eve, but thank God I shall be working then and will not have too much time to dwell on it!
Yes, I’m interested in Mother’s confession and will try to find out if that is where Dot got her idea from. I’ll let you know the result. Mrs Allen has fallen from favour earlier than we expected. These newcomers usually last a month, anyway. Only Mother could cross an Oxford drawl with a Scots accent. And Glasgow at that! Well, love, I think those are all the points to answer in your letter.
I did a little more shopping yesterday and got a feeding spoon for Patsy. It only cost a couple of bob so I’ll send it in with the parcel of things for our children. I will warn you by letter when to expect that parcel, by the way. Probably at the beginning of next week. I also got a small coat decoration for Wendy and that elusive comb in case. I went to the Royal Borough of Kensington where you come out of the station into an arcade with Derry & Toms on one side and Pontings on the other. Pontings is a huge place but somehow a bit more like our Liverpool stores, although they have several “watertight” departments. After visiting there I had to suspend my shopping activities until pay day!
And now, love, rather abruptly I’m afraid I must leave you for today. I hope your arm continues to improve, but for goodness sake don’t go and overdo things in your enthusiasm.
Bye until tomorrow, angel. I still love you. All my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 171942
 

Thursday
Chiswick
Dearest,
There’s not a great deal of news today as yesterday was a full, very full working day – and I had a blinding headache for my first six-and-a-half hours watch. I don’t know what was the cause of it unless it was lack of fresh air. Anyway, I went and had supper and then into bed as early as possible and when I got a shock at 2.45am – that makes you think, doesn’t it? – my headache had gone, thank God.
I haven’t been to a show for some time so there’s no gossip in that direction. Did I tell you that Jack and Dot’s journalist friend, Saunders, came on Sunday? He was evidently off colour as he has been ill for some time, but I found him a quietly interesting fellow – absolutely the image of Kinley! But I doubt whether he shares political convictions!
When this long anticipated leave does materialise, by the way, you will have to look after me properly and have the gas fire burning for a few hours before I venture into the bedroom, because I sleep in the bed chair in Dot’s dining-cum-living room and I’m not used to exposing my tender flesh to the cold night air. So what are you going to do about that? Nobody asked you to expose your flesh, sir, she said. Now I wonder?
I was intrigued by your account of the children’s reactions to the cards. Have they tried it out themselves, yet? Even more was I glad to know that you are catching the Xmas infection from them. It is a disease which will do you all the good in the world just now.
I’m glad you have had a chat with Wendy’s teacher. I never suspected Wendy’s desire for curls!
Eric wrote today and from his letter you will see the latest Xmas arrangement. Dot had a letter from Mother yesterday making belated overtures in regard to a visit, but I don’t think they will bear fruit at this late stage. And I can’t say I blame Dot and Jack, either. Well, love, this is about all the news. I’ve done no shopping today but Dot has not gone to the office today so I’m going to take a short stroll as far as the local shops with her before getting a bit of sleep.
Look after yourself, sweetheart, with all this Xmas rush on. I’ll try to get some of the things packed up between now and the weekend. My love to the children. And I still want you very badly, angel. All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X
P.S. Could you spare a Xmas pudding? Please send 6 hankies from top drawer – the new ones I bought. A.

Dec 181942
 

Friday
Chiswick
Dearest,
I hope you were able to read the postscript on the back of my letter. I have been going to ask you on several occasions if you could really spare a pudding because I should like to have one if I am here for Xmas, as it looks almost certain I will be now. If you can’t, then don’t worry about it. Many thanks for the thought of the cake. I’m looking forward to seeing – and eating – it. I promise you I will not open my parcel until Xmas Day.
I spent last night making little parcels of the things I had bought and for a couple of hours caught the Xmas atmosphere for the first time this year. I will post the parcel by Monday at the latest. I’ll put Patsy’s spoon inside and then you can please yourself when you give it to them. Dot has got some small books for their stockings, including one which is a little cut-out theatre with pantomimes as the subject. And that reminds me. Will you try to save the panto visit for when I come home? I’d like to feel I had that much share in Xmas, and this year just the four of us will go together.
Dot is also buying some beakers – two! – for the children to use when they are cleaning their teeth. They are quite bright with rabbits hand-painted on them and I think she is having their name put on for them. I think you are right about June and David, and I don’t think Jack and Dot are sending any money this year.
While I remember to explain – there is a small rather heavy little parcel for Michael marked “sandbags”. They are leaden ones which he can fit together as a machine gun post in his fort. You will see that each end is left blank of one bag so that they will sit properly. The list – from which you omitted Michael’s barrow – looks very impressive and I’m glad Michael is likely to be pleased with the tank. It’s the only thing I have the equal Xmas interest in and that was why I was sorry not to be able to get an idea for Wendy, too.
Glad to hear of May’s luck with the Yanks and I hope it is a turning point for her. Is there any news of Harold yet? It looks as if he is just going to land the Xmas holiday. One of the lads from our opposite watch goes to Liverpool on 9 days leave this Sunday!
I did laugh about your dream and the thought of you having to earn your fare home. I’m glad you did it respectably! Just for good measure I dreamed about you again last night but I know what the cause of it was. I spent ten minutes gazing into a shop window crowded with lovely undies and pyjamas and night-dresses and I was longing to be able to send a load of them home to you and I’m sure from that information I don’t need to tell you many details of the dream!
By now, of course, you will realise that I know Eric’s plans for Xmas and think just as you do. I’d hate to have to write a letter like that!
Oh, about the hankies I asked you to send. I simply cannot find anything decent for Jack and thought they would just fill the bill. There should be six of them in the left-hand corner of the top drawer of the tall-boy. In fact I think I sent more than one lot home, but six will do at a time. If you can post them to me in a big envelope by return so I’ll know where I stand, it will help a lot.
Well, love, I’m rather rushed for time so I must be off. We were paid a week in advance today so that will help a bit, but by the time I get some odds and ends I want I will have to go fairly carefully for the fortnight unless something turns up from somewhere. If there’s nothing else, I should think I’m bound to get something from the office comfort fund before Xmas and that will help.
Now I must fly. I do love you, angel, and the thought of not seeing you at Xmas is making me very restless and discontented. I’m steadily going more and more apathetic to everything. Still, it might be worse. I might be in Iceland by now! Wow, think of that!
Darling, I love you so much, and after all, that is all that matters.
Bye until tomorrow. All my love.
Ever your
Arthur X

Dec 191942
 

Saturday
Chiswick
Dearest,
You’ll never guess what I have come into town for on a wet cold afternoon. To hear the Westminster Abbey Choir singing carols in the Beaver Club! Still, I’ve always thought boys’ voices better than any others and I may never get a chance like this again. I’ll let you know what I think of it.
I’m writing this on Saturday evening and when I left home at 4.15 there was no letter from you. Hope everything is OK because it’s not like you to miss a letter these days. And if deliveries are bad I may not get the letter you usually send to the office until Monday! Calamity, calamity!
Your letter did arrive today, it was waiting when I got home.
First of all, I can’t send my key today because they are such dangerous things to post and I’ve nothing in which to send it. This being now Sunday morning, on which I have done stand-by duty, I’ve no time to fiddle about or you won’t get this letter by Monday. In any case, I expect the posts will be most uncertain for the next day or two – I meant to write week or two.
I like your ideas for Mother and Dot and they sound very attractive. I’ll let you know the reaction at this end and I’ll also warn them about the parcel. If it comes when I’m home on Monday I’ll try to keep it until Xmas morning. Many thanks for doing the station, love, and I’m sorry to have had to add to your load. Wendy seems fated to have the gilt taken off the gingerbread this year, doesn’t she, poor kid. We will definitely have to tell them soon and the longer we do it before next Xmas, the better. I liked your idea for a clock on the station, by the way. Nice work, love.
If the ghost does walk – and you’ll know by now whether or not it is going to do so – take a couple of quid out of it for yourself, let me know straight away that it has come, but keep what’s left for now and you can send it in the New Year when the hazards of posting will be considerably less. In the meantime I can use my slops money. We were paid two weeks’ wages yesterday so I should be able to manage until Xmas, although I may need a bit to take me through to the end of the fortnight. However, I’ll let you know about that.
You are stupid about money, you know. While I’m not rolling in dough, I could have sent you a few bob for Xmas extras and I should be horsewhipped for not thinking of it. And you told me, only on Tuesday, that you would not do that sort of thing again!
So you can’t keep your fiddling fingers off your parcels? Let me know what your guesses are and then I’ll know how near the truth they are. And don’t forget – no spending money on parcels for me just yet! I mean that, love.
I’m disappointed about this letter for I had intended it to be quite different but I’m rushed now. I think I’ll solve the problem of Mother by getting her one of those little Navy brooches. She’ll love that. My son in the Admiralty etc! Whatever there is for her I’ll send addressed to you so you can open any little parcels which come unless they have instructions to the contrary. If there is a tree you can give Mother her presents off it. For Jack I’ve got a copy of the ‘London Evening News’ annual and I’ll give hime a pair of underpants in the hope I’ll get some more at slops! Then I’ll get Dot some hankies, which will be the only coupon gift I’ll make. Those with a little diary will have to do for her.
And that, I think, is all the Xmas news. I’ve got the cards for home and for Jack and Dot. I’ll post yours on Monday to be sure of them arriving.
Sorry to be so rushed. All my love to you, angel. Take good care of yourself and let me know the minute the ghost does walk! My love to the children. I’ll try to write them before Xmas and if I do you might save the letters until Xmas Day.
I love you so, sweetheart.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

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

Dec 211942
 

Monday
Chiswick
Dearest,
The posts are beginning to get a bit erratic. Your letter postmarked 18th – but no time on it – only arrived here about 11.30 and if you posted a letter on Sunday, as I hope you did, it has not come yet. With all this in mind I thought I had better let you have your Xmas letter now while I had the chance. In view of that letter I hope you will excuse this short note, but I want to catch a reasonable post if I can and I’m writing this at Chiswick, having come straight home to see if there was a letter for me.
By now you should have received the parcel and I hope you thought the things suitable. You will see a butterfly in one of Wendy’s parcels from Jack and Dot when she opens it. The idea is to stick it on the mirror in her room, or on the wall in the bathroom. I had thought of the window but that might lead to a really serious accident if they were sticking it on the window and slipped.
I thought that as Wendy’s was obviously a mild case of infection perhaps you need not have bothered about all her bedclothes every day. What an enormous amount of wash just when you are busy enough as it is this week. I can see you being tired out by the time I do get home on leave. Thanks for the warning about which parcel is taboo – and I only hope you haven’t included the hankies in that one because if you have I shall have to buy something else for Jack. As soon as I get the parcels, I’ll acknowledge them. I’ve told you already that we got the cake. That reminds me. I asked you to thank Eric for the watch. Apparently you forgot about it! I’ll have your trousers off – happy thought. What a lot of excuses I’ll have on this leave. I can see you catching your death of cold, sweetheart. But what a death. Oh, love, I mustn’t start like that today.
Penny’s name is Mitchell, but I can’t remember the initials. Did I include Uncle Tom in the Xmas card list? I don’t think I did. Will you send him one? Thanks for thinking of the Smiths and the Grants. Ralph Oliver said Mrs Smith always asks after me!
I can imagine the children’s parcels. I’ve suffered them on occasion!
Well, darling, that’s all for today. I’m nearly asleep and it is only 2 o’clock! Must go to the post with this and get a loaf for my dinner.
Let me know what the Xmas arrangements are, if there’s time after you get this.
Bye, precious. I still love you, though God knows why! Sorry this letter’s so scrappy.
All my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur
P.S. My love to the children. It seems ages since I heard from them.

Dec 221942
 

Tuesday
Chiswick
Darling,
I wonder as I write each letter now whether or not it will reach you in time for Xmas. The Post Office is certainly feeling the Xmas rush now. The registered letter posted in Lime St reached here yesterday evening delivery, but the unregistered one posted on Friday only got here one delivery before it. Anyway, you will be glad to know the “ghost” reached here safely. Yes, it does make a difference but not a great deal to Xmas, because I had done nearly all my shopping before I heard of it. In fact, I can tell you now, that on the Thursday I had exactly my fare home – sixpence! However, I got through alright until pay day and then did one more shopping and I think about the only thing I did get out of the bonus was something coloured red for you. It wasn’t on your list, so that will keep you guessing a bit until Xmas morning! Nosey!
I was interested to hear what you thought of the change in Molly. Hughie had referred to it and, funnily enough, used the exact phrase about “moaning”. She did annoy me the way she would moan to everyone and never do anything for herself. When I heard about it I wondered if anyone was doing her a bit of good occasionally. Do you think so? It is certainly what she needed and, if she is not getting it, what she still needs!
I think I answered Thursday’s letter yesterday but forgot to say that my present ship is, according to an entry in my pay book made since we got here, quite definitely President II. I don’t know what the form is which you have got, but I think Pembroke is the name for Chatham barracks and may have been the place I was actually at when that form was made out. Mind you, I’m not certain that that is the identity of Pembroke but I have that impression.
Now to Friday’s letter – the “ghost” one. I’m glad the rash business seems to be clearing up a bit and hope that by now you will have had a clean bill on that score. There always seems to be something at Xmas, doesn’t there? It must be nearly my turn now! About this swelling in Wendy’s nose. You will, of course, have seen the doctor by now, but if anything has to be done can I ask just one favour? Please don’t have any treatment begun which is likely to run in to my leave. I do feel I’m entitled to one decent leave if it is at all possible and if there is anything to mar this one I’ll refuse to come home on another and will spend it at one of the big resorts in a service club. That’s a threat, young woman, so be careful! Seriously, though, I’m sure you will see the point. I couldn’t stand another ruined leave.
So, Mother was in an appreciative mood? I’m glad, for I hate narks between you because I know they upset you. Probably you will never be able to let all these things run off your back as we do! Still, I feel sorry for Mother being so deserted this year. What a pity Bert never does anything about it. He never will now, of course. Mother won’t be going to Geo’s at any part of the holiday – she knows it as well as I do. I hope you have a pleasant dinner on Xmas Day. I wonder what time you will be leaving home? Three-to-fourish? You can’t leave it any later than that. What a funny feeling it will be both going out on Xmas Day and leaving all the things behind you and then returning (when, by the way?) to the stale atmosphere of Xmas left-overs. Even the streets and buses seem different on Xmas Day, I always think. They have an unreal Xmas Day atmosphere. Jack tells me that in peacetime all forms of public transport close operations in London at four o’clock and that if you are out visiting you either have to leave before tea or stay the night if you are any distance away. What a queer idea, isn’t it? He says even the pubs are deserted on Xmas night. Imagine that at home!
I should have liked to see your race with the children, while carrying the barrow! Did they see and recognise it?
Yes, I was interested in Ave Maria’s news. I’ll lay even money she has married on commission! Stuck up, insincere little bitch.
If I’m to get the post I must fly. I won’t write you at Limedale because posts are too erratic. Give my salaams to the family and I hope you will have a nice holiday. Neither my parcel nor the pudding has arrived yet but there’s still three days left!
Some time before I come home on leave, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could possibly find time to write me a letter telling me how my wife is? With all her faults I still have a very tender regard for her as I could show her if only she was sitting on my knee right now. Oh, sweetheart, I can feel the warm velvet flesh of your neck and throat and cheek. Precious, I love you and I’ve got a smashing erection and I’m going into a deep deep coma if I’m not careful!
Bye for now, angel. I do love you and I’ll see you in about four weeks. Think of that on Xmas Day! Sink a few Guinnesses for me, and I think you still owe me several pints.
All my love, angel.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. As soon as I can get a registered letter away – it will be after the holidays now – I’ll send you a portion of the ghost with which I want you to buy a NEW – not a second-hand bargain – frock. But I’ll write you about that as soon as I know when you are going home. Bye, sweet.

Dec 231942
 

Wednesday
Chiswick
Dearest,
I don’t suppose for one moment that this will reach you by Xmas Day – at least not judging by the way your letters are failing to arrive here. It’s now nearly two o’clock and I have had no letter from you since the registered one posted on Saturday. Your long parcel – the “not to be opened” one – arrived about 4.30 yesterday, which was too late for me to acknowledge it in my letter. The other parcel which you say is on the way will probably arrive about the same time today and I’ll be sure to let you know when they do arrive. I’ve been a good lad and not opened it although I must admit that I’ve shaken it to see if it’s something that rattles – and it does, but I still don’t know what it is. I have only the comfort that you are in the same boat – I hope!
I meant to tell you that I got a comic sailor calendar from the lads in the office the other day and when I opened it I laughed out loud. The sound amazed me and I suddenly made a discovery which rather alarmed me. I suddenly realised that that was the first time I had laughed spontaneously since you were ill. I must have been going about like a professional mute!
The boys have got their names down for Xmas Day at the Beaver Club and they should have a pretty lively time – free turkey dinner, fun and games (as it is described) from 3 to 5.30 and dancing in the evening. The Club has been beautifully decorated and there are two huge trees, which the children would love, flanking the foot of the stairs. There will probably be some very good “dos” for the lads in town but it would be more than my life was worth to suggest going to one. Jack himself has made the suggestion several times. But not Dot!
I’m going to go to the zoo with Charlie on Sunday and I’m really looking forward to it. Sunday is really members’ day but the services are also admitted and I believe that you can take animals out for a walk if you want to. It must be interesting in peacetime when there is a full collection of animals there. I’ll tell you all about it in a later letter. As there is very little chance of any other letters being delivered now, I don’t suppose I will write until after the holiday, but I’ll try to make sure there is a letter waiting for you when you get home from Limedale. I will tell you all about the holiday and what presents I get – although you probably know them already! Don’t forget to give me a full account of your “doings” including the children’s reactions to everything. I do hope Michael’s fort materialises and that he likes it.
Well, love, that’s about all the news, I think. Have a nice time and get a few nice drinks inside you. They will make all the difference to your outlook. Dot sends her love and says she will be writing to acknowledge the cake later – when she has sampled it I suppose! I’ve still got to buy something for Jack, too. I do hope you are feeling better and that all the Xmas rush and “clinicing” Wendy has not been too much for you. Take care of yourself and build yourself up in the next few weeks, for I do want you to be well when I come home. All my love, precious. I love you still, though God knows why except that you are – just you. And I do love YOU.
Bye, precious. Hug the children for me.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 251942
 

Monday 21 December
Chiswick
FOR XMAS MORNING!
Just to say, “Merry Xmas” Mummy, among other things!
Dearest,
So I’ve got a funny face, have I? That’s what I get after no letter since Friday. Me all agog waiting for a letter – which I’d fondly hoped would contain our spectral friend! – so eager in fact that I almost caught it before it reached the bottom of the letter box. And what do I find? That my face is funny. Now I know the real reason you wanted me home at Xmas – just as a permanent laugh about the place. Young woman, you’ve got a cheek – in fact you have two, and come to think of it they fit in the hollows of my hands just perfectly, don’t they? I can feel them there now as you stand with all your body pressed close to mine and my hands go instinctively to those dear delightful “cheeks”, which I haven’t kissed, while you lay face downwards, for such a long long time. And darling, I do want to kiss you so much. It is because I do want you that my last letter was a bit testy – I’m sorry, love, but even little Arfa Parf has his testy moments these days. But, angel, I love you more than you ever will know and I wish more and more that this damned war was over. Sometimes I feel like stopping a taxi in some rather unorthodox manner – say, with this funny face of mine – so as to be invalided out of the senior service. And, Madonna, I must remember to deal with you for that crack – no, not your Mary, stop quivering – when I come home.
Just that mention of Mary quivering sent me into a coma which lasted about 20 minutes in which time John yearned and yearned and enjoyed himself immensely! And when I at long last bullied myself into consciousness again I had to go and get my diary to try to work out when my leave will begin, but I have got into a most dreadful muddle with it and at the moment all I can say is that I should begin my leave somewhere between January 25 and January 30, providing that no one goes sick or puts in for compassionate leave. And that is the best comfort I can offer you this bright Xmas morn, my sweet. When vapours put in an appearance this time, will you let me know how that date is likely to work in relation to vapours? If there is a likelihood of vapours and leave clashing, would you like me to put leave back a week? I could do that, although I couldn’t bring it forward at all unless one of the fellows had a special reason for putting his own leave back.
You know I began this as your Xmas letter but, as is usual with us on high days and holy days, it is developing into a sexual monologue, which I hope is not an affront to your deeply rooted religious convictions.
Sweetheart, I don’t know when you will read this letter (and no cheating by staying up until one minute after midnight and then saying brightly “Oh, it’s Xmas Day now!”), but whenever you read it I shall be thinking of you. I will be called from my bunk, perhaps in a semi-drunken stupor if I’m lucky, at 2.45am and I will be close to you all the time from then until about dinner time, but after that I’ll lose you all for you will be on your way to, or actually at, Limedale and I can never get a real mental picture of you in anyone else’s home – probably because I don’t know the timetable like I know our own. The main thing is that you should have as pleasant a day as possible and I hope that the day will go well for you and that you will not be haunted by the blues. Whatever else happens I will be going for a drink fairly prompt midday and as I walk out of the house I’ll say to you, as I always do say, “Shan’t be long, love” and you will know damn well there’s little chance of me coming back before 2 o’clock – unless Jack has got to be back much earlier for lunch on the argument “It’s Xmas Day for me as well.” Sorry if that sounds catty, but I can see something like that happening, which is one reason why I’m almost tempted to stay in town when I finish work on Xmas morning. Anyway, whatever happens, I’m going to get a skinful today!
With all the narks we have had about there being no letters in parcels, I had to send your parcels off minus notes! Sorry, angel, but I simply couldn’t have sorted out what I had to say when those parcels were being packed on Saturday at about midnight as, for one thing, I’d had no sleep from 3am and by that time was feeling a trifle sleepy. I think the roll-ons tell their own story of my ambitions, jut as the sight of the pyjamas did. The jumper will, I hope, help to keep you from catching a fresh cold and I know you won’t knit yourself one this winter. You never do. The chocolates I only discovered in the last shop I went into and by that time I had only one quarter-pound worth of coupons left! I was jumping wild, but I hope you will like the few there are and the toffees. Let me know if these are the right sort of sweets for the children and I’ll get some similar ones. And do they like the peanuts?
Well, my angel, it’s nearly post time and I must leave you. “A merry Xmas,” love. No, I’m not being cynical, just a bit old-fashioned for I have a nostalgia to lie propped up against your breast while the children open their own parcels, and ours, and watch for our reactions to their own little “surprises”. Oh, sweet, it isn’t just that I’m making a lot of something simply because I can’t have it, is it? I always have enjoyed that part of Xmas Day, as you know, just as I have always loved decorating the place – perhaps not very artily, but in my own tinpot fashion. And I do miss all the fun and joy of anticipation this year. Perhaps it will be easier if I am away another year, but this year it does hurt.
Aren’t I good at cheering people up? Angel, I really must go. Do make the best of things. The children should help enormously. Precious, I do love you and I only wish I could get a bit bottled in true Crosby Christmas Eve fashion!
Bye, my angel, for now and don’t forget you have only about a month to get fighting fit so please don’t overdo things, will you?
All my love, precious girl, and let’s hope that this poppycock will be decided, if not over, in the next twelve months.
Al my love, sweet.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 261942
 

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 271942
 

Sunday
Chiswick
Dearest,
This will probably arrive at the same time as the letter I posted yesterday and you should certainly get it on Monday. I’m writing this in the Union Jack Club because the visit to the zoo is off for the moment. We got tickets yesterday for the All-American Star Show at the Palladium so we are going there instead today and will save the zoo for another day.
One very important thing I forgot yesterday was to thank you from Jack and Dot as well as myself, for the pudding and the cake. They were both lovely, although the National Flour puts a completely different taste in the pudding, doesn’t it?
Now I’ll try to get your letters written between the 19th and the 23rd answered, although I think most of the ground has been covered. Before I do so, I’ll be interested to hear if you had any experience of being a few days without a letter. Did you have vapours for Xmas? I hope so in some ways because it will show some regularity, which is generally regarded as a sign of better health, isn’t it?
I was interested in all the news of the children’s anticipation of Xmas and of the visit to Father Xmas. When I hear all those little things, I don’t feel quite so cut off from there. What a funny thing that you should have made the skirt and have mentioned a warm blouse just when I was buying that jumper for you. Does it fit you, and do you like it? Perhaps you, too, will think of me when you put it on.
I don’t think there is anything I can usefully say on the religious question just now except this – that if you have taken Wendy to see a crib, I hope you took her locally and not to one at Mossley Hill. See the drift of my thoughts? If Wendy told Mother that she went to a church there, you know what the immediate reaction would be! And, what’s more, there would be an everlasting suggestion that the children should go to Linacre School on some occasion. I do hope you have thought of that. Yes, I have thought of the possibility that Michael may want to join the Cubs. I thought of it a long time ago, but I have also realised that, taking a leaf from the Nazi and Fascist beliefs, this Tory government is now “directing” children into organisations. That is the most dangerous and reactionary movement that has yet been made and so few people seem to realise it. What price the Young Communist movement now? This question of youth organisations is going to need some careful thought. I do hope I’m home soon for good to help you guide the children’s minds – or rather to help them keep a fairly open mind on so many different subjects.
All of which started with the crib and I would like you to tell me what the children thought of it. I’m sorry for you in this religious cross-fire and I think you’re the one woman in the world to tussle with it so hard and to make such great efforts to be honest with yourself, with me and with the children on this subject. The galling thing is that “professional” Christians if they could hear you – no matter what their particular claim to have the ear of the Master – would probably damn you for blasphemy when few, if any of them, would spend so much time and thought on the relationship of practical Christianity to a child’s mind. The great thing is, I believe, that you have the only possible view. That is the angle from which the children will approach these matters in later life and then I think, as you say, they will bless you for your open mindedness – in which you certainly score over me because as you know I can be so bitter on both religion and politics. Well, well, and this is a Xmas letter! Still, I have written this to show how much I do appreciate the stand you have taken and the honest way you have faced up to a very difficult problem. It’s one of the things which makes me love you so – and makes me proud of you too. I get quite conceited about my wife, you know. A kind of reflected glory I suppose! I don’t think I will ever be unfair enough to blame you if either or both of them did “go religious”, although God knows it would just about break my heart. It is just the sort of thing that would happen to us because we are both tarred with the brush of idealism – and in this world an idealist has a hell of a time. Witness Kinley.
Reading through your letters brings up another point – my card. It’s a wow! And it made a great hit with the lads, as you may imagine.
Sorry Michael was so crude with Vic. Muriel would go home with a full account of that incident! Still, I’m glad Vic did remember the Xmas tree. Was it a nice one? I’m intrigued to know what Wendy has made me, and also to know that we came off well in the exchange of decorations!
The boys had a whale of a time on Xmas Day. Free turkey dinner at the Beaver; free seats for the ballet in the afternoon; and another free turkey dinner and cigarettes at the Queensberry Club in the evening where there was also a tip-top variety show. And they turned down tickets for a morning show and also an invitation to a private home for dinner in the evening! What I missed!
We were at work on Boxing Night but went and had a few beers in one near the Crypt.
And that, I think, is about all I have time for just now, angel. I’m looking forward to tomorrow to see if there’s a letter for me. I do hope so.
Xmas is over now, love, and we are progressing towards January and leave. I won’t settle down now until I have been home and slept(?) with you – the mere thought of which makes me go goosey. Pet, I love you but this is neither the time nor the place to indulge comas. My love to the children. I do hope they enjoyed the holiday.
All my love, angel.
Ever your
Arthur X

Dec 281942
 

Monday
Chiswick
My darling,
Many many thanks for your two letters, one of which was delivered here on Sunday (a delightful surprise) and the other one reached me today so I’ve done very well.
Let’s deal with the most unpleasant aspect of things first – Mother’s very discourteous treatment of you, to put it very mildly indeed. It’s not for me to say it won’t happen again – that is for you to make certain of because the same position would most certainly never arise again in the future if I was home! It’s a lousy trick and I’m more surprised at Bert making the suggestion than I am at Mother’s acceptance. He must have known she was going to you. When I told Jack about it he was jumping wild and said quite a lot of things. Dot is also convinced that Mother would never have sent the chicken, pudding and cake just for them! Those things only came because I’m here, they say! Jack’s got Mother weighed up alright. Anyway, that’s getting away from the subject, on which all I can say now is that after all the trouble you took for her sake this should have happened. You were right not to press her to come to Crosby. That would have been an impossible situation. Now let’s leave that subject. You know well enough what my feelings are on the subject.
When I read your description of the fort I was almost as eager to see it as Michael must have been. It certainly seems to be a real smasher and I’m really looking forward to seeing it. Do make him take care of it because it should last him for years, and even then be welcome by some other youngster. Your serial letter with all its air of Xmas preparations, the excitement of the children, their unnatural desire for early bed, their anxiety for you to go to bed and, finally, their sleeping late, brought so many vivid pictures of home. It was the next best thing to being home. I’m so glad that your cunning in timing your visit to Dave’s was well rewarded! I’d a lovely vision of Stella, slightly muggy, bashing about Michael’s room with an outsize fort! Did you manage to stay awake until Wendy got to sleep? What a business it always is! And if I remember rightly, Michael has slept late on Xmas morning before, hasn’t he? I’m so glad he did remember the fort before the actual day. Your picture of the difference between the two of them – Michael with his battered old car and Wendy sampling all her presents – was just perfect. I could see them so perfectly. In many ways I agree with you about Michael getting the bulk of presents. I was very conscious of that myself and had the “ghost” walked two days earlier I would have given way to a very great temptation. In Pontings I saw several of those really lovely boudoir dolls – the big ones which last for a lifetime. If we could have got back the money you had spent on the other doll it would have been worth the extra for the pleasure that Wendy would have got from this. They were two guineas each, which is a lot but which is really very cheap when compared with the prices asked and paid for some of the wooden toys here.
It’s nice to know you liked all the presents and I do hope you like the jumper. If you don’t like the colour, or if it doesn’t fit properly, don’t hesitate to send it back to me and I will try to change it for you. My letters to the children probably meant more to you than to them for they had too many distractions at that time, but I wanted them to feel, if possible, that I was really thinking of them just then – a very difficult thing for children to realise most probably. I certainly was haunting home on Xmas Eve and Xmas Day, more than ever.
By now you will be safely home again, better for the break and with some of your sexual urges assuaged by the best endeavours of five husky Yanks! You must show me some New York nudery when I come home, sweet. I’m alway willing to learn!
Oh, angel, there’s so much more I wanted to write to you but I have day-dreamed the time away over your letter. Such a dear, delightful letter it is and quite the nicest you have written for months. I’m all happy and contented in my mind now, counting the days, like you, to leave. What of vapours, angel? Did they materialise?
One thing I must add is that I didn’t go to the zoo after all, yesterday. On Saturday night I saw some tickets in the Crypt for an All American Star Show. I think I mentioned it in my last letter. Well, here’s the programme for you. Never have I laughed so much at one show. It was the best thing I have ever seen or hope to see for a long long time. The stories and wisecracks came fast and furious, as you may imagine. One fellow told the story of the circus elephant which broke loose in a small American village and began to tear up a woman’s cabbages and eat them. She rushed off to the Sheriff. “Sheriff, there’s a strange animal in my cabbage patch pulling up the cabbages with his tail,” she cried. “With his tail? What’s he doing with them?” “Oh, Sheriff, it’s no good. If I told you you wouldn’t believe me!”
And then there was the hotel where rooms were known by letters instead of numbers. The porter was instructed to call the honeymoon couple in room B for breakfast. “Oh, letter B,” he called. “Letter B.” And then in exasperation, “Let ’er be!”
Like them? I did, and hundreds more I can’t remember.
Bye now, angel mine. Those Yanks have nothing on me! I do love you, precious.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Cover of the programme for the ‘All American All Star Performance’ at the London Palladium, 27 December 1942


Programme includes Debroy Somers, Millie Jackson Girls, Freddy Morgan, Eddie Ready and Joy, Ben Lyon, Kay Francis, Teddy Brown, Bebe Daniels with Matt Heft, Vic Oliver, The Two Valors, Charlie Kunz, Kay Francis, Martha Raye, Carole Landis, Mitzi Mayfair

Running order for the London Palladium show ‘All American All Star Performance’ of 27 December 1942, including Debroy Somers, Millie Jackson Girls, Freddy Morgan, Eddie Ready and Joy, Ben Lyon, Kay Francis, Teddy Brown, Bebe Daniels with Matt Heft, Vic Oliver, The Two Valors, Charlie Kunz, Kay Francis, Martha Raye, Carole Landis, Mitzi Mayfair.

Dec 291942
 

Tuesday
Chiswick
My darling,
I had hoped to write you such a long letter today, but the weakness of the flesh intervened and here I am rushing to catch the post. When I got in I made my breakfast, looked at the paper and then crept into bed at about 11 o’clock. I have just had dinner and am now scribbling away for dear life.
So you got all dated up during the Xmas holiday? I’m so glad and I only hope you had a really nice time. You talk of “late nights”. You didn’t overdo it did you, love? If you did I’ll kick the seat off your pants! I’m not carping, angel, but I’m very anxious that you should not slide back the least little bit. You still never tell me how you really are in health these days, you know, although I have asked several times.
I am anxious to get this away today so that you can make immediate use of some of it without waiting for your birthday. I had hoped to be able to save more than this, but you know the way money goes at Xmas and really I suppose I’ve done quite well to hold on to this. I want you to spend a couple of quid on a frock for yourself – more if you can’t get just what you want for that amount. Whatever else you do, get something that you really like and, for God’s sake, for once in a way, don’t stint yourself for five bob. And in sending this I want you to feel that you can afford something nice.
Whatever is left over I would like you to put away for me towards leave expenses and a possible trip down here by you in the spring – if I’m still here! There is a new scheme out for leave – it was announced yesterday. At the worst it will mean I will begin leave a week later than was at first thought, and at the best I will be home about a fortnight earlier. So as to get leave over more quickly, a whole watch is going at the same time for 9 days. That, as there are four watches, will cover a period of 36 days. While we are not on leave we will obviously have to work longer hours, but at the moment it seems the only possible way. The scheme comes into operation about Jan 11 and it has not yet been decided which watch shall go first. We should have definite news in a day or two. The original idea was that it should begin on Jan 1st and had that been so and we were lucky enough to be drawn as the first watch, we would have been home for New Year’s Eve because we are off duty then! Wouldn’t that have been fine? I want to get my leave in as soon as possible because there are too many draft chits flying about just now. Four A/Ms, including one from our watch, got chits yesterday, right in the middle of the watch, and were packed off on five days’ leave!
That means we can breathe again for a day or two. As soon as we get leave definitely settled I will let you know and that will set your mind at rest.
Now, angel, I must fly. I’ve thought of you a lot this week and you have been very close to me. Take good care of yourself, get plenty of rest and get really well quickly because you know I MAY be lucky in the draw for leave. Wouldn’t that be great!
I spent half an hour before I went to bed re-reading your Xmas letters. Such nice letters they were – especially the one which came with my present and your “serial” Xmas Eve – Xmas Day letter. Oh, angel, I do love you and hope to hold you close very soon now. All my love, darling.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dec 301942
 

Wednesday
Chiswick
My darling,
I have just read your letter and my bowels are yearning within me. I’m one big ache for you today. It was bad enough even before I got your letter, because on the way home on the bus I developed an outsize in erections which made my bellbottoms look like a miniature marquee. Sweetheart, I’ve never ached for you so badly as I do today and it is not all sexual desire, either. My one desire at the moment is to hold you tight and to lose myself in you while you fuss me and love me and do and say and leave unsaid all those things which only you ever can do. Angel mine, it’s stupid that in the 20th century the English language contains only the inadequate and hackneyed phrase “I love you”, but I do, sweetheart, more and more with each passing day, and that is why I have been so utterly morose and churlish to everyone and everything since you have been ill. Sweetheart, do tell me how you are. I keep asking and asking but you just ignore my inquiries.
Angel, great as the temptation is, I mustn’t drift off into a coma because if I do you’ll never get this letter. By the way, I didn’t get one yesterday, but I suppose that was because you were busy coming home on Monday. I’ll let you off this time, but don’t let it occur too often. Many thanks for all the news in your letter but I won’t refer to all the things in it – just the points that need answering. My letter which has crossed yours gives the latest leave information and we have nothing to add to that yet. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.
It looks as if there was a plot against Harold and you having an afternoon out. I’m glad to know you have a three-beer limit still before you get all sensuous in your mind. What did Chris think of the three specimens she saw exhibited? What a shame she was in front because without your glasses on you’d have got a close up before you realised it! So you wouldn’t talk about me, huh? Alright, young woman, I’ll settle with you.
I’m still not clear in my mind as to what the children got from various people. Is there any chance of them writing me before the Xmas impressions fade from their minds – if that hasn’t already happened. I’d like to know what they got from various sources. I’m glad you like your jumper and that it fits well. But should it tuck in at the back? I thought it would keep its shape better if it was just worn over the skirt. By now you’ll have the money for the frock and don’t forget you promised to tell me something about it.
On the religious question, you have raised a lot of points which had honestly not occurred to me and I think you have been very honest about the whole thing. I’ve always had complete faith in your fairness on this subject more than on any other and I always will, love. And, despite the other bedroom occupations we have, we must try to spare a little time to talking that matter over when I’m home. Oh, angel, the mere thought of our bedroom has raised John to full fury again. I’m sure that at the first sight of Mary he’ll tear her to pieces. How is Mary these days – and nights? Still her own loyal self, waiting to welcome the master home with all her arms? What a delightful welcome she does give me. I can feel her arms, so many of them, wound tight round John in so delightful an embrace. Passionate and yet tender, urging him to still greater efforts and yet warning him to be gentle. Oh, angel, it can’t be long now, can it? What wouldn’t I give to feel you hard pressed in my arms now, or to know that tonight I would have your mouth pressed close to mine. I never can satisfy my desire to kiss you. I never have been able to. Oh, my sweet, my sweet, it will be grand to have your mouth close to my ear as you reach the climax and to hear all those dear delightful things you never fail to say. We must experiment a little more on this leave. What do you say? Will you think of some nice things to do? Although you, as you are, are so delightful.
Precious girl, I’m in a bad way today. Xmas is gone and yet the days haven’t begun to slip past for me yet, perhaps because I want them to do so. Stella, my own, I adore you and could make you so very happy if only you were here today, trembling beneath my hands. I have never got over that delightful power I have over you, to make you tremble at will. Angel, I can feel your lovely body beneath my hands now, and even my face is getting flushed. I can feel it and I must stop before something happens.
Sweetheart, there’s no news except that I love you more deeply and gloriously than ever. Do tell me how you are. See how many things you can do now which you couldn’t do a week ago, and let me know. Don’t forget, angel. And please can the children write to the man they used to call Daddy, ages and ages ago?
Bye, my love, before I start all over again and miss the post.
Always your own,
Arthur X
P.S. Calendar not arrived so far, nor tobacco. Without fail let me know what you did about paying for the tobacco. Will you please send me a copy of the handbook I did about Bootle. There’s one in the bottom drawer of my desk, I think. Did you ask Dave about a Xmas picture? If there’s any chance, perhaps you can include the fort, but most of all I want a decent picture of the three of you. I can take it!

Dec 311942
 

Thursday
Chiswick
Hello My Angel,
I do love you. Have you guessed that before? Oh, sweet, my urges of yesterday are still with me. Stella, if only you were here right now I’d give you the time of your life. I’d run my hand over your silk stockinged leg. I’d stop to kiss you hard and long. I’d return to your leg and reach that dear, dear velvet thigh. You know, the nice smooth flesh on the inside. And there I’d linger such a long time before progressing to my old favourite – clit. How is she? Will she still leap beneath my caress, do you think? Oh, I know her so well that I can feel, even now, your delighted sinuous movements and, my darling, there’s so much scope on Dot’s settee for those movements. Oh, angel, angel, I can see you on it now. And how I wish you were. What fun we’d have. And yet I don’t know. Because always, at first, I just want to hold you, and kiss you, and look into your eyes. Oh, I never seem to be able to see enough of you in those first few minutes. The trouble, of course, is that I want to do everything at once. To hold you pressed close to me, to drink you in with my eyes and to kiss and kiss you. I know I have always to say to you “Don’t talk! Kiss me!” And it’s always me who kisses you. Damn you! We’ll have a good alibi when I come home this time, by the way. I should be home somewhere between 10am and 11am and as I shall have been up all night, I’ll obviously have to get some sleep, won’t I? What do you think of that for cunning? So see to it that you dispose of the children properly. You might arrange for Michael to be playing at John’s? Like you, I feel I can’t wait another 24 hours and the time is fairly crawling past. If we have to wait until February I’ll go crackers, although that is only a week longer than we expected, isn’t it?
What treats have you in store for me, love? Apart from those I will discover for myself all over again. Have you thought of any new ideas, or are you sticking like a good old Tory to the solid Johnsonian tradition? Mind you, you’ll have to be careful, for there’s a war on and if you produce too great a variety of ideas, you’ll be suspect from the word go! Although I will say that so far I haven’t discovered anyone, not even in Piccadilly, who has anything on you! My own, there’s nobody in this world or the next who will ever have anything on you. That is why I’m longing so to be home once more and to make love to you all over again. I’ll always be able to go for you in a big way, even when I have to be lifted on and off! Just think of the prospect of that first day. A “preliminary canter”, after I have feasted my eyes on you, and then I’ll have a sleep. After tea and the children are in bed, a few early beers in the Endbutt so that you can get to the three-beer stage early in the evening. An hour in the armchair, a joint bath and supper in front of the gas fire in the bedroom and then – and then! Oh, sweet, I’ll be able to bury my face in your breasts, in the pit of your tummy – that nice soft yielding part, and then make my salutations to Mary, my own beloved Mary. Oh, to feel you naked in my arms again will be a taste of all the things I’ve so looked forward to.
Sweet, before I do come on leave, will you write me a nice long coma-producing letter? It’s so long since I had one from you and I do love them occasionally.
Once we know a definite date for leave we will feel a lot better about things, for then we will be able to make some sort of plan. Oh, I do hope we get the first leave. John is crying his eyes out for you. He’s weeping right now!
Stella, it’s New Year’s Eve, a day I have always liked and from all of the foregoing you may have guessed I have a desire to spend it with you. As I can’t, I shall be thinking of you a great deal today and especially about midnight by which time you, I expect, will be sound asleep getting up your strength for when I am home! For a New Year’s wish, what shall I say? That I hope the war will be over in 1943? I can wish that but I can’t honestly say I think it will be. I do think, however, that this time next year we’ll be on the high road to victory. My New Year wish, then, is to see more of you than I have done since February; that you and the children will have the best of health; and that by this time next year we will be within measurable distance of my putting on my flannels and sports jacket permanently. And then we’ll begin to live our lives once more.
And now, love, I must to the post and then to my couch for an hour. It won’t be long now, my love, before I do all those promised things to you. All I hope is that they won’t revolt you, but I know you will suffer them for my sake! Stell, I love you. At the moment I can think of nothing but you and wonder how you are, and if you are really getting better, or if you are dissipating your energy as soon as it is built up. Don’t do that, love, you’ll need it all, you know! Take care of yourself for me, angel. Bye for now and a very, very happy 1943 to you, my sweet. Say Happy New Year to Wendy and Michael for me, please, and give them my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. I’ve deliberately avoided Mother in this letter. Don’t worry, I’ll write her! When are you getting your frock? We have had snow here last night and this morning but not very bad. Have you had any?

Jan 011943
 

Friday
Chiswick
Dearest,
I was a very bad lad and slept in late today so this will just be a very hurried note written on the train. You see I had the morning off and so had plenty of time. As is usual in such cases I just dozed and woke, dozed and woke, so that in the end I’m rushing wildly to get in on time to be paid. From this you will gather that as I haven’t yet been to the office there’s nothing new I can add on the subject of leave. I’m as anxious as you on this matter because there’s only ten days before the first watch go.
We had a very quiet New Year’s Eve. Just went down to the Packhorse and Talbot and had about four pints and a rum and home to wait for the New Year. Did Dave bring you a drink by any chance? I’ve written and thanked him for his Xmas letter, by the way, and also enclosed a brief note to Bill Black.
There’s no news today, angel, and I’m sorry this note is so brief, but as you have probably guessed it is being written on the train. I’m looking forward to seeing you in this “special” frock. What is it? An ordinary frock which can be turned into a maternity gown! Or is that wishful thinking?
Bye for now, my precious. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Take care and behave yourself for a few more weeks at the most. And only ten days if we’re lucky! The things we’ll do then! All my love, angel girl.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Jan 021943
 

Saturday
Chiswick
Dearest,
How the days are dragging. Xmas seems weeks ago and even New Year ages ago and yet it is only the second of January! Still, I suppose the days will pass; they always do.
We have just come back from the Gaumont, Hammersmith, where, at my instigation, we went for a laugh to see Arthur Askey in ‘King Arthur Was A Gentleman’. It was a very pleasant evening but I must confess that I don’t find Big as amusing on the screen as on the radio. He is definitely a radio personality. Still, I did enjoy the evening although this business of different closing hours in London still gets me dizzy and so, for that matter, does the geography of the place. In Hammersmith the closing hours are ten o’clock, but in Chiswick they are open until 10.30, so we jumped on a train, rode three stations to Turnham Green station (that’s three minutes from Dot’s) and, although it was 10.05 when we left the cinema, still got a drink in the Tabard at the bottom of Bath Road. As soon as we walked in, a woman began to sing ‘There’s Something About A Sailor’ so that I was all covered in confusion! Weren’t we lucky to get a drink so quickly! Yet the funny thing is that the nearest pub in the other direction – only about the same distance away – is in the Borough of Hammersmith and closes at ten o’clock and, as usual, of course, that sells the best beer. And there, I think, you have the whole of the news of the day.
Dot’s landlady, Mrs Fuller, has lent them a day bed, or divan, because she is closing up all but one of her rooms so instead of having to make my bed up on the bed-chair each day Dot is able to just cover it with a special cover. It’s a well-sprung bed and is really very comfortable, and I felt less like getting up than ever this morning, which is saying a lot! They are very useful pieces of furniture and Jack is very keen to buy it but Mrs Fuller isn’t parting.
Sunday
Do you remember me telling you that one of our young lads was married to a Wren in Glasgow Cathedral recently? Well he went in to the officer of the watch yesterday and volunteered for this draft which is going – or rather, has gone. That meant that one of the married men was able, at the last moment, to telephone his wife and tell her that he has had a reprieve. Apparently she is staying at a farm and she must have been feeling pretty blue because she was in bed when he rang at 8.45!
It’s Dot’s birthday today, of course, and she has had quite a lot of cards. As they are going to a 21st party next week, she was going to get herself a brooch yesterday but everything she saw was too dear. I think she has expensive tastes!
We have been talking about golf and I’m very conscious now of the fact that these days I get very little fresh air and I am seriously thinking of bringing my clubs back with me. Will you remind me when I come on leave? The great difficulty these days is getting hold of golf balls, which are becoming more and more rare. I could do with making friends with some Americans and getting them to have some sent over.
Well, my sweet, I am out of news. It only remains to tell you that I love you, oh so much. Angel, there are times when it hurts to love you as I do. I’ll be home to you the very first minute I can, but there is still no official mention of leave. I was talking to the Chief about it this morning and he says they are still waiting for the officer to decide the exact date we shall start – it might be the 10th, 11th or 12th – and which watch is to go first. Don’t worry, love, I’ll let you know as soon as I do. All my love, angel. I’m wanting you very badly again today. Thanks for the children’s letters. I’ll try to answer them tomorrow.
Ever,
Arthur X

Jan 041943
 

Monday
Chiswick
Angel,
As soon as I pick up a pen to write to you, coma appears on the sky line! Just now I can feel my heart beating quicker at the mental vision I have of you. Precious, I love you. But first let me answer your letter.
Yes, I got a letter on Friday, thank you. I think you would realise that, even though I don’t think I said so. Just because I tell you to spend a couple of quid, you get as near the mark as possible, don’t you? 39/11, eh? Could have made it 39/11 and three-quarters could you? No nice handy bargains at 7/6 for you, of course! Must go spending every penny of it! Of course it’s alright, love. I said in my letter not to spoil it for the sake of 5/- or so. So long as it is what you want, I’m quite satisfied, but I’ll keep you to your bargain and kiss you in it one of these days. Not ’arf I won’t! It’s funny you should have bought a skull cap because I was going to get a green leather one for your birthday. You just spoke in time, young woman!
By the way, I also intend kissing you in your roll-on – and out of it. In the latter case, just above the navel, then slightly below it and then to the right and to the left of the lower target! This is one of the occasions when I wish I could draw. I’d be able to send you a diagram of my intentions. I don’t mind the “enemy” knowing my plan of campaign because I have a fifth columnist in the camp. Her name is Mary, and only me knows why! I resent the suggestion that I’m at the hungry stage. I passed that stage a long time ago and am now on the verge of complete and utter starvation. Of course *I* haven’t been to any wild all night parties over Xmas! And on top of that foul suggestion, she of the sagging maternity muscles has the cheek to tell me not to develop a corporation! Young woman, you need taking in hand, and I’m the lad to do it. If only I had my teeth I’d bite the lobe of your ear right off when I come home. Sweetheart, is it really only two months since I last nibbled your ear? It seems years.
When you said you wanted to push me into a chair and kneel and look at me I went funny all over because it recalled so exactly the atmosphere of our very nicest nights when all the unspoken preliminaries were so delightfully drawn out and you and I, enveloped in each other, lived apart in a little universe of our own for a little time. There are times now when you just come to me and envelop me so completely that nothing else in this world matters a bit. That is just how it is at this very moment. You know, darling, there are times when I think you really must love me a little bit.
Sweetheart, thank you for today’s letter. It was lovely. I should have loved to see you squirming on the pouffe. I had a very vivid picture of you. The line from your hips right to your bottom and Mary, going all wobbly and becoming so beautifully moist with her own emotion, and so sensitive too, that John, without guidance at all, would have found his own gentle way to the most secret and sacred and tender parts. Angel mine, if only my picture was flesh and blood right now!
I’m glad you like my plan for our first day. Dearest, we’ll do just that and perhaps we might even read those early letters you have! Eh? I love your own mental picture of yourself in the role of a virtuous wife following me all unsuspecting-like to the bedroom when I go for a sleep. Yes, I said sleep! I’ll bet I have hardly got into the house before you are insisting that I must be tired! Don’t forget to have a permanent stock of pennies on hand, will you? We’ll need them for the fire, you know!
I know what you mean about the never-failing thrill of coming home. I feel the same, too. And that, of course, is the greatest compliment we can pay each other for home to us means each other. For all that, my pet, no aspersions on the old days. We were very glad of doorways, and Town Hall corridors and walls. They meant a lot to us and even now, when I walk along The Mall at night before turning in to bed, I have a mental picture of you with your very willing back planted against one of the Admiralty walls! If I could have conjured you all the way from Crosby on one or two nights you would have been delighted to have put your back against one of those walls, I know. For a few nights I had to stop walking round The Mall and the park because the sight of the couples on the benches set my mind running on very disturbing thoughts and I did so want you to be here. If you can manage to get up here in spring I’d like to sit for an hour or so on one of those seats with you and see if my hand has lost its cunning. One night, weeks ago, you walked beneath the trees that line The Mall and I could feel from the periodic pressure of your ungloved hand in mine – you have such lovely hands, pet – that you were too sweet con to say a word. And I walked back to my narrow bunk, undressed silently and got into bed with a self-satisfied smirk on my face. The lads must have thought I had been out on the tiles!
Stella, my own, I must to the post and then to bed. I love you very very dearly and have missed you more this time than ever, I think. Leave can’t come a moment too quickly for me but there is still no news. Even at the very worst it can only be about a month off. We will have to stop these letters. They are upsetting us both but I love talking to you like this as I can’t talk to you in the flesh.
Precious, it’s time to say bye for today. See you tomorrow! Or rather, I’ll talk to you then. All my love, sweetheart. Take care of yourself and get really well and strong again.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. I misled you about the calendar. It arrived in plenty of time but I just couldn’t recall it when I was writing the letter! Sorry, love.
Take care of the solubles. Don’t let them freeze in this weather. And start collecting pennies, love. You’ll need them. I’m seriously thinking of moving the gas stove into the bedroom so that we can lie in bed while the dinner cooks! What say?

Jan 041943
 

Monday
Chiswick
Dear Michael,
I have just been reading your letter again and am looking forward to seeing your big fort. Wasn’t Mr Black good to make it for you? It sounds, from what you say, as though it is a really nice one and perhaps we will both play with it one day when I come home, eh?
Could you feel your stocking on the bed when you kicked your feet on Xmas morning? I’m sure Father Xmas could not put the fort and the wheelbarrow in your stocking, could he? They wouldn’t even go in mine! You must have quite a lot of soldiers now. Do any of them ride on your tank? You certainly did get a lot of things and I’m so glad you had a nice time. Was Jennifer pleased when she saw her Golly? She would be surprised. Mummy stayed up late when she was at Grandma’s, didn’t she, and then was a lazybones – like you! – in the mornings. As you know, Daddy always used to get up as soon as he was called, didn’t he? Well, if not always, at least sometimes!
Who wins when you play snakes and ladders? For Xmas I got nice comfy slippers from Mummy, which I put on as soon as I come in every day; stamps from Wendy, one of which is bringing this letter to you; your cigarette papers, for which thank you very much and I will use them when Grandma sends me the tobacco; some pennies from Nanna (4/-); some pennies from Uncle Eric; some pennies from Uncle Bert (10/-); and some pennies from Auntie Geo (5/-). So I did get a lot of pennies, didn’t I? Auntie Dot and Uncle Jack gave me a case to keep my shaving things, hairbrush, soap, flannel and nail brush in. I’ll show it to you when I come home if I can find room in my case for it. And they also gave me some cigarettes and a diary. Wasn’t I lucky! Did you have a nice day in town when Mummy bought her frock?
Now I’m going for a little sleep. Bye, son. Be a good lad until I come home, which I hope won’t be long.
Lots of love,
Daddy

Dear Wendy,
Thank you for your letter, which I had been looking forward to receiving. I was going to write to you soon after Xmas, but I wanted to hear from you about all your presents. Somebody IS a lucky girl, isn’t she! I am so glad you had a nice Xmas and I only wish I could have been at home with you. Was the tree which Uncle Vic brought a nice one? The books I bought for you are written to help little boys and girls to learn to read and you must be getting a clever girl if you can read some of the words already.
On Xmas morning I did miss you all and I wanted to lie in bed with Mummy while we all opened our parcels on our bed like we used to do. I was disappointed that I couldn’t be with you, but I have got over that now and I’m looking forward to seeing you all when I come home on leave. We have to take turns in having leave and while the other men are away I will have to work harder, but it will be worth it. The man has not said yet when we can come home. They always take a long time to make up their minds, don’t they? Anyway, I think perhaps we might know when we go to work tomorrow.
You didn’t tell me how long holiday you have got from school. Are you still on holiday? Mummy told me you had a nice party at school. We used to have a lot of fun when I was a little boy and we had school parties.
Auntie Doris and Uncle Jack are at work and in a few minutes I’m going to lie down on my bed and have a little sleep because I’ve been working hard all night. I’m glad you liked the beakers Auntie Dot sent. They’re lovely, aren’t they? Well, Wendy, this is all for this time. Bye now. See you soon, I hope. Until then, be a good lass.
Lots of love,
Daddy
P.S. Thank you very much for the stamps. The one on this letter is one that you sent me. I should have said that first, shouldn’t I?

Jan 051943
 

Tuesday
Chiswick
Sweetheart,
Sorry about this. The leave question is settled and, as we might have expected with my record, we have come out at the bottom of the list, which means leave begins in just about a month’s time – Feb 4. I could kick myself for having buoyed you up with the faintest hope of an early leave because I should, by now, have learned my lesson. There have been so many occasions when I have said that we wouldn’t count on anything until I was on the train for home, that I should have known better than to mention it at all. Actually, it means that under this arrangement I will be a week later than under the old one. When I saw the list on the board I was jumping wild, as you can imagine, more for the effect that it will have on you than anything else.
Although it is only about two hours since we got the news, I have accepted with as good a grace as possible and feel, in one way, relieved that we have at last got some definite news. Beginning on Monday we will have three weeks heavy going in front of us with 48 hours on duty and 24 off but, from my point of view, there are some advantages about the arrangement. One is that with so much to do the time will go quickly – I hope! – and the other is that, while on leave, I won’t be haunted with the feeling that I have got to go back to face a long slogging period of hard work. The only thing we can do now, my angel, is resign ourselves to things as they are for a time, forget all about the calendar at first and only begin to tick off the days as they get within reasonable reach of leave. Another point is that now the suspense is over and we know the worst, you will be able to settle down to the business of building yourself up properly. I hope you are taking your extract religiously still. Are you? Because in another month from now you should be heaps better. I’m trying to find all the good points about this business that I can! One way in which you can help is to make certain that you have vapours between now and Feb 4. You have been such a clever girl in that direction so far that I’m sure you will be able to manage it once again. Keep me informed on this point, won’t you?
Charlie and Jack, who are in the other half of our watch, are the first to go on leave!
Sweetheart, I’m so sorry that you should have this disappointment after you had kept your chin up so well over Xmas. I’m wild that I ever shared my hopes of an early leave with you for, as I say, I should have known better by now. Anyway, I promise you it won’t happen again throughout the whole of this war. I’ll keep all these things to myself in future. And I won’t write you any more “hungry” letters, either, for some time, although I will be wanting you just as badly as ever. I hope the reaction is not too bad, love.
Now I must be off for some dinner and then in to work again. Your letter telling me about the weekend will be waiting for me at home I expect, but I won’t be able to slip home today. Time is too short.
Dot has not been too well for the last couple of days and is going to get the doctor in today, so I suppose she will have a few days off work. She has had one or two attacks of migraine lately and is feeling a bit off colour, I think. Sometimes I have the feeling that running the house and going to business is a bit heavy for her, even though there isn’t a great deal of heavy work to do – and no children to look after, with all their ailments and feeding and clothing worries.
Well, love, I must be off. Try not to imitate the pricked balloon too successfully. I don’t want you to collapse completely! And remember the plans for our first day, like John, still stand! I’m always boasting, aren’t I, but not even this very cold weather can keep him down. When I think of you, he’d melt an igloo. That last sentence sounds like a title of a song, but I’ll present you with the idea. You, no doubt, can develop it – the song I mean, not John!
Bye, my angel, I’m so sorry. Do look after yourself and DO wangle vapours properly. We may yet find that had I got second or third leave part of it would have been “hampered” by vapours.
All my love to you and the children.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Jan 061943
 

Wednesday
Chiswick
Angel,
Your last two letters, delightful as they were, have brought me some pangs because by now you will have had my letter telling you the date of our leave. And I’m afraid all your lovely day dreams will have to wait a bit now until they are fulfilled, won’t they? I’m afraid, too, that I have misled you a little bit in regard to leave, although in view of the month’s delay it seems very little to worry about. February 4th is the last time we are on duty, but leave doesn’t begin until 9am on the 5th. As we are actually on the job until 9am, and not just stand-by, I don’t see how we can get away early so it looks as if the 10.30 train will be the earliest I can catch.
So now we’ll have to rearrange the picture of the first day because I won’t be at home until the middle of the afternoon. Will you have a try, this time, at painting a word picture of our first night? You try and then I’ll see if I can add to it. I should say I’ll be home between 3 and 4. I’m so sorry I will miss your birthday, sweet, for it would have made a nice celebration. I am still kicking myself for helping to get you all worked up like this, angel, and then bringing you down to earth with a bump. The postscript to tomorrow’s letter will be vitriolic, I’m afraid! Never mind, love, you’ll soon be looking at the calendar and marking off the days with all the anxiety of an unmarried girl waiting for vapours. Sorry!
So I let you down in your dream, did I? I’m sorry, angel, but believe me I’ll do my best not to repeat that performance in real life. Your letter with all its references to your desires played hell with John who hasn’t been the same lad since. No wonder your body is one big ache. I love every little inch of it. Oh, angel, angel!
Apart from these things, one of the best bits of news I have had from you is that you have at last mastered the art of not letting Mother get you down. I haven’t written her yet because you have to be in the right mood for that, but I must get down to it. I wasn’t surprised to hear that Sunday went off without a nark. Those days usually do when other helpful people are there.
I’m interested to see Michael’s drawings. I think they are quite good, don’t you? For some time I haves sensed his reactions to school, just as you describe them. It is the reaction of most little boys I think, so don’t worry.
Thank you once again for the weekend letter. I had such a lovely picture of you in the bath, with your shy eyes. You are still shy of me, aren’t you, completely nude in harsh electric light, but not in the half-light of the fire. Oh, angel, I love that shy expression of yours, because it has, too, so much of your love in it. I can feel our still damp bodies pressed close together after a communal bath, even now. And I have a picture, too, of that little dark island, which is so much mine, waving as the tiny waves lap it. Oh, sweetheart mine, please, please be well and strong when I come home because you’ll need all your strength. Your description of your dress rehearsal was lovely and I got quite conceited to think I mean so much to anyone. Never mind, angel. In a month you’ll have eight full evenings in which to dress up for me, and eight more in which I can undress you! Yes, darling, I did get your letters and by now you will have had a letter full of heavy fun about the price of your frock. Of course the price was right.
Eric seems to be developing into the typical uncle and I’m glad. It will do him as much good as the children and I’m glad, too, that the children are gradually becoming natural with more and more adults outside ourselves. It will help to broaden and develop their minds. Wouldn’t Wendy love to have Ernest drawing for her for hours on end!
How are you feeling after your big wash? You only said what you had done to the clothes and not what they had done to you. Tell me honestly, sweet, what you think of yourself after such a heavy day.
Wendy’s preference for figures is weird, isn’t it? Most little girls shine more at drawing and reading than at sums. Easy to see she’s the daughter of a free-lance! Aye, the lance was free enough in those days, wasn’t it, even if you did hate the walls, and the hedges and the shore and the canal bank. You ungrateful hussy. Sweetheart, I just heard you sigh as you do when I take poor shrunken exhausted John out and I felt that little shudder run right through you too.
Precious, my own, I adore you, but the postman won’t wait while I write more. Darling, darling, I do hope your blues are not very bad. Try to keep your chin up for one more month. After this week time will begin to move again.
All my love, sweetheart, and do take care of yourself.
Ever yours,
Arthur X
P.S. I meant to say that your last two letters were two of the nicest you have written for a long time. I could feel the pep in today’s letter. Keep it up, sweetheart.

Jan 071943
 

Thursday
Chiswick
Hello Sweetheart,
Here we are again and it’s good to be chatting to you again. Next to getting letters from you, especially such nice letters as they have been lately reflecting a more cheerful outlook on things, I like writing to you because on both occasions I can feel you so close to me. I knew you would be able to catch the atmosphere of my moods in The Mall at once and when you sat down to re-read it you only did what I often do with yours. Sweetheart, you do walk beside me here, and wherever this war may send me, there you will be. Unless things are purely masculine I always see them in relationship to the extent to which you would enjoy them and many’s the time I have pointed things out to you, including a shooting star which fell, one night, in a great silver arc over Buckingham Palace but you were quite peeved because you looked up just too late!
If we can manage it at all I would love you to come to London, if only for a long weekend. I doubt whether the money would run to much more than that for you hold my entire fortune in reserve! I’m so glad, and often wonder at our good fortune, that you do like being married to me. God knows, my love, there are millions of young couples with far more advantages materially than we have, but how few have that deeper treasure! Oh, my sweet, never let me cease to be your lover. It is because I am your lover, as well as your husband, that other women mean so little to me, a fact which constantly intrigues the other lads here – even the decent fellows.
I still want to make love to you out in the open air. Ever since we have been married I have loved doing that, as you know by the way I have taken you out into the garden or on to the concrete to kiss you sometimes. Some time we will sit on a bench in the dark. It may be a London bench, it may be a Crosby bench, but wherever it is will be all the same to us. But I should like it to be in London because then London would join the hallowed places – Formby (in some ways the nicest of them all), Shrewsbury, Wrexham, Aberdeen! All lovely places, aren’t they, my sweet? Oh, angel, I’ve tried to make up to you for all the little things so many suburban wives have which you have not got – a little car, a big vacuum cleaner, big heavy rugs on the floor, lots of lovely china and glass, lashings of clothes and, oh so many things I’m conscious of you being without. I’m afraid I’m a thriftless devil, Stella. Always I have been, and I’m afraid I won’t be young enough to alter radically when at long last I do come home for good. But one thing I have spent wholly on you is my love, which has grown for you bigger and stronger and deeper since its first tentative moves towards you in the ‘Bootle Times’ days, when its stirrings were so weak that I didn’t recognise them for what they were. Sweet, if I ever develop into a praying man, my chief prayer will be that both Michael and Wendy shall know a love as deep and lasting and precious as ours. You must carefully instruct Wendy in the art of waking three times on her wedding night to prod her long-suffering and newly acquired husband in the back! I, on my part, will have to teach Michael to achieve better results than I did, apparently, so that he won’t need wakening three times! You were an insatiable hussy – bless you! I suppose there’ll be a repeat of that performance about a month from now! Glory be!
Had we known about the leave earlier I would have suggested you coming from about now until the 12th. It’s too late now, of course, and there is no point in coming after that because we will be on duty 4–8 hours at a stretch and I’m bound to feel pretty well all-in by the time we get a day off.
Now, sweet, it’s almost post-time. So you have had snow? The weather has broken here, too, and for the first time since we came here there has been rain on two consecutive days. Still, I’m glad the children got some fun out of the sledge. They are more of an age to appreciate that now. I liked your fancy of the Jerry propaganda film, which was ruined by the British Restaurant, of course. A meal like that does you all good and is, of course, useful in keeping the children’s social education up to date. God knows how old I was before I ever had a meal outside the house.
Sweetheart, I must away to the post then get back for a bath and an hour’s sleep before I go back to work. Take care of yourself, love, and keep your chin up for a little time longer. Can you get to regarding this postponement as an extension of your time to get fighting fit? If you can it might help a little. I’m so sorry to have added to your wartime disappointments and I should be kicked for it.
Goodbye until tomorrow, love. I am still your lover and your husband, remember. You said so yourself, and you should know! All my love, precious. Take good care of yourself and give my love to the children. Did they like their letters?
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. Dot’s off work for a week with respiratory catarrh but she’s not too bad, really.

Jan 081943
 

Friday
Chiswick
Hello, Sweet,
You see, the days ARE beginning to move slowly by. One week of the New Year gone and the second started, so we are on our way towards leave at last. I know how you feel about not complaining too bitterly and I have the same feeling. There was a time, in fact, when I toyed with the idea of seeing if I could get someone from the other watch to change with me and then I decided that the best thing is to follow our avowed plan of not interfering with the plans of the unknown. There might be the danger that, if there was a draft between now and my leave, and I was the only one of the newcomers to have had leave, I would automatically qualify for it! So, all things being considered, I don’t think we will tempt providence by making any changes of our own free will, then, whatever happens, I can have no feeling of self-blame.
There isn’t a great deal of news today. I’ve been at work and I’m home for the day now and that seems to cover all my activities. I have just finished reading ‘The Yearling’ by an American woman, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. I read it in three sittings – the first book I have done that with since I left home, so you can tell I enjoyed it. So you have seen ‘Mr Pitt’ at last? I’m glad. And glad, too, that Mother seems to have given up nattering for a time.
Dot seems a bit better the last couple of days, but whether she will go to the twenty-first party they have been invited to for tomorrow or not I don’t know. She has just said, however, that she thinks she might go if only to get the “low-down” on Jack’s carryings on at work! Well, well, these husbands – you can’t let them out of your sight for a minute, can you? Jane sent Dot a cable today, just to give greetings.
I had another interesting letter from Hughie yesterday. He tells me that Allan Robinson has had an operation – for duodenal ulcers, he thinks. If that is right then Robbie will soon be in civvies for good because the service medicos hate any gastric trouble.
The weather here is delightful again. Blue sunny skies. Cold but very pleasant and it’s good to be alive, though I’d sooner be living somewhere else!
Comas are barred for the time being, I know, but you can’t stop me dreaming and last night I found the answers to several of my touching inquiries about clit – inquiries which have remained unanswered by you. Yes, she is still very responsive to me and, believe it or not, you enjoyed my dream as much as I did! You lucky beggar. So you see, precious, I still love you even when I am asleep and I evidently have the greater authority, or appeal or something, for you always come to me in my dreams. That, of course, is as it should be. And while on this subject, I think it a good idea that you should mention the matter of vapours to Rees. As you say, he will understand and by mentioning it early, there can be no fear of there being any doubts!
I have ordered some slops, among them being a towel which I will try to remember to bring on leave with me. I have meant to ask you several times if you found the second pair of my new underpants. If you did, are you wearing them and are they warm? I have some more on order but I’m afraid I can’t let you have those because I shall need them. My own are getting a bit thin now. I am getting a brown case like mine for Jack and Dot, and there are a few things I would have got had I known at the time that they were available. We get slops about once in three months here, so if I should be lucky enough to be here three months hence I’ll spend my full allowance. Would you like me to order a blanket for you? They are 18/6 each! I’m not going to get one to be sold to anyone else, but if you want one I’ll put one on my next order for you. Let me know sometime what you do want because we have to order well in advance. These things we are now waiting for – and for which I have paid this week – were put on order two days after we got here, so that gives you an idea how long we sometimes have to wait. I will be sending you a small parcel for your birthday in the next day or so and if it arrives before your birthday, don’t forget it has NOT to be opened before.
Well, my sweet, that is all the news, I think. No need to say how much I love you, is there? Take care of yourself and send me a full report of what Rees has to say, won’t you? I do hope he can see a definite improvement in you. And I’ll be interested to know what he has to say about vapours. Very interested!
Bye for now, my girl, and look after yourself. My love to the children. How are they? Are they behaving themselves lately? There don’t seem to be so many complaints about Michael these days. Has he got over his bad patch do you think, and does he help in the house at all?
Well, love, I must leave you, much as I hate to. All my love, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. Will the panto still be on in Feb? And what did Dave say about the photograph?

Jan 081943
 

Friday
Chiswick
Darling,
A happy birthday to my girl. And ever so many more of them which I can share with you. I’m hoping that you have dropped Dave the hint so that he will have brought a drink to you tonight, just to cheer up things a little for you. For my part, you can buy me a pint when I come home! And I have been thinking that if you buy me all the pints you owe me you will not be able to pay the rent this month. There are several pints outstanding from my last leave, there’s one for not guessing what was in the chocolate box at Xmas, another to celebrate Xmas, another to wish me a happy New Year, and at least one for your birthday. That’s at least five pints and as you know what I’m like after five pints these days perhaps you would prefer me to spend my leave in one of the London service clubs? Please let me know in good time if you think you cannot stand the financial and physical strain of my leave! Stelly-well, my dear, I know you won’t have a very hectic birthday but I do hope it will go off without any undue narks. Do you feel bowed down with age now you are a year older? You will soon be as grey as me! Then what will you do? You know I only regard milestones like New Year and birthdays as little landmarks on the long road I have in front of me to travel with you. Some of them are on level stretches of pleasant roadway; some are at the foot of little and perhaps unseen hills; others, like this one, are on top of little hills of difficulty which we have climbed together. Whatever pleasures or difficulties may lie ahead of us in the future, my love, there is no one with whom I would sooner share the one, or face the other, than my own Stelly-well. Precious, thank goodness for the great and priceless gift of mutual trust and confidence. That, as well as the other secret you mentioned the other day, is one of the cornerstones of our married life. You, I think, did more than I to build that great sense of trust and I’m happy, more happy than you know, to think you are reaping your reward of my deep and abiding faith in you in all things. Perhaps the most difficult subject so far as we two were concerned in the early days of our life was the thorny and vexed question of religion. You know, only too well, the picture I had of people coming round and trying to inveigle you into taking a stand for the church against me. Well, they did come when I was out, didn’t they? But you never failed to tell me, love, that they had been, and what they had said, and what you had replied. Nowadays I sometimes think I failed you horribly in the Alexandra Road days, perhaps from thoughtlessness, perhaps from preoccupation with the very worrying business of getting us a living. But you never once failed me, did you? Many another woman, in the same circumstances you know, would have either yielded to the importuning of their visits or, even had they stood out against them, would never have mentioned the visits. The fact that you did both made me more vividly aware of your loyalty to, and faith in, me than anything else and it was on that beginning, I believe, that we built the policy of trust and confidence which has stood, and will stand, us in such good stead. In those early days, my own sweet girl, you built far better than you knew and my only wish is that I could go over them and relieve them of some of the loneliness – or aloneness – that I know now you felt. I was a very preoccupied young man in those days, wasn’t I? But since then, perhaps since we went to Crosby, we have drawn a lot closer together. And sometimes I think we even owe something to this blinking old war, for it has taught us to value each other even more than we did before. All of which is intended to show that, apart from your deep physical and mental attractions for me, there is a great and abiding faith in you which means an enormous amount to me. You and I will often see things from a different point of view. Now and in the future you may make decisions with which I don’t agree, but always I will have that inner satisfaction of knowing that whatever decision you have made has been made because you believe it to be right. God knows that if all this world had that same faith in their fellow humans then all our troubles would easily be solved.
From all of which, angel girl, you will gather I have not merely a great love for you in the accepted sense, but that I love and cherish very dearly so many of the other attributes you possess. Perhaps this is not the way most people would say “many happy returns” to the one person on earth. But it is the way I want to say it tonight because I want you to have at least another half century of birthdays with me. To whom else could I turn in moments of trouble and doubt with the same implicit faith, not that they would necessarily agree with me but that they would first be honest with me and only secondly would they try to comfort me. My sweet I know I have caused you pain in the past, I know too that it is ten thousand to one that I will cause you pain in the future because we are both human, but I know too that come hell and high water you will always be my own Stelly-well and will stick to me and help and comfort and guide me. So you will see that really, boiled down to their very essence, my good wishes to you on this day are also very selfish hopes for my own future for I find it impossible to visualise a time when you do not march side by side with me.
And now to the contents of the little box. I do hope you will like them and that they will be useful to you. The cigarettes will save you a bob or two I hope, and I hope that they will be a little treat as a “nicer” cigarette than you normally smoke. I only thought, after I had bought it, that as I didn’t get one for you at Xmas you have probably bought yourself a rain hood. I hope not, but tell me if you have. And the scarf will help to keep your neck warm in that brown coat which has no collar. Now with these things you have me all around you from your head almost to your feet and I would have done the job properly by getting you a pair of house slippers but I thought your clothing coupons sufficiently emaciated! I do hope you will like these things which come with all my love on a night when I am separated from you by only four weeks. I have already begun to mark the calendar, you see! If I can squeeze them in, I’ll also enclose my Xmas cards for you to see and the children to play with. I thought you’d like to see them.
And now, angel, I must to my bed for my eyes are like the proverbial holes in the snow! Sorry to be crude. Night night my sweet and all my thoughts are with you today. You know that. I only wish I might have been home but we still have that to look forward to. I wonder if I shall dream of you tonight? Take care of yourself, angel, for I do love you.
Ever your own,
Arthur X