Monday
Glasgow
Dearest,
I didn’t thank you adequately for your Saturday letter, which was very nice with its talk of last Sept 12. As if I could forget it! It was one of our most beautiful nights. If you really feel like that about it, why don’t you go to see Rees? Let me know what you think about the idea, will you? Can’t he fix you with something to be worn only when I’m home to save you the bother of things like that permanently? It would be so nice just to be able to whip in whenever the mood seized us and not have to worry about things. Solubles are good and useful but they are more messy than a ring, aren’t they? The idea of all these treats is definitely unsettling me, and I’m getting quite light-headed at the visions they conjure up. I can see me going into a coma in the middle of the morning, so I’d better drop it as I’m writing this before school.
I don’t think there are any points to answer in your letter, but I’m sorry you have had such a bad day. Poor old girl and you didn’t have me to natter at or to call you names for being so stupid! Do you let Wendy stay to dinner when you go to town, or do you go in the afternoon while she is at school?
I think I told you pretty well everything about Saturday’s trip. Yesterday was quiet but pleasant. After dinner we went over to Charlie’s fish and chip aunt. After chatting for a time Charlie went for a bath and I fell fast asleep in the settee. I was out to the world for three-quarters of an hour. What a change it was. In the evening a couple of friends whom we had met at another aunt’s came in. We were invited by them to go over to visit them a fortnight yesterday and it was not until afterwards that I realised I am on duty that weekend. Which is a pity for it would have filled in another weekend. Still, we have another invite which has yet to materialise – that is to the home of Charlie’s cousin, a young couple with no family. Did I tell you Charlie is expecting an addition to the family? He has a little girl of three, already. His wife is already more than three weeks overdue, as she was with the first. He has my sympathy for although he exhibits an outward phlegm in all things, he has been suffering with violent indigestion for the last few weeks! As you’ll understand, I have a fellow feeling for him.
Well, love, that’s about all the news today. There’s not much happening just now. Your letter has not got the morning delivery. I’ll get it tonight but I want to get this in the post now. I have had a letter from Eric. They are going to Keswick for a week from Tuesday until Sept 8th. As you probably know, they are out of Westmoreland Road and are going into a boarding house or hotel until they know whether they are getting a big contract in Cheshire. That’s about all the news from them.
Well, bye for now. All my love, sweet.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
Darling,
It was good to have such a long letter of home news as that which arrived this afternoon. Many thanks, love. It was like a breath of home. I hope you manage to save some of those plums until I come home. What a gastronomic treat I’m going to have sampling all your hoarded treasures when at last I do come for good. I suppose that day will eventually arrive. Just think of the jars of jam, bottles of fruit etc you’ll need to satisfy my appetite. Where does Mrs Hodge get all her sugar from? Is her husband home still? From what you say, I should think your fruit will keep alright so far as being airtight is concerned providing you have smothered the whole of your paper “corks” in candle grease. Otherwise paper is porous, you know, and if the juice gets onto the paper it will work upwards and gradually reach the air. You seem to have been painstaking about it. Your stock of beans will be mounting by now, won’t they?
I’m glad to hear you can ward off your migraine attacks, if only to some extent. Even that’s an improvement on your other experiences. By the way, have you begun your autumn course of green pills yet? Now, that’s the second time I have mentioned it so you have no excuse! I don’t know about kicking you in the pants. I have other ideas, you know. And talking of pills, don’t forget to let me know about the solubles, will you? You see, if you do want some, I’ll have to get them some time when none of the lads are with me, and that doesn’t happen very often. Oh, my precious. Just the thought of it is doing all sorts of things to me and I’m going all dreamy about the eyes. I’ve taken the hint about your early retiring! I’ll remember.
At that point I went off into a deep delightful coma from which I was only aroused by someone wanting to know the time. It was such a lovely comfortable coma, too. Just you and I, first with me being nearly strangled by the strength of your hugs as I walked in unexpectedly (conceited sod, aren’t I?) and from that point, which lasted quite a time, we drifted to the armchair where we just sat and held each other close. At last I held you close with one hand while the other rediscovered all or most of its old haunts. Oh, darling, they are just the same and it’s as delightful as ever to sit you on my knee and just let my hand rest between your thighs. Such lovely thighs they are, too. (Incidentally, John is lying warm and throbbing along my thigh just now.) Do you know, I sometimes like you as much in the armchair as on other occasions in bed, because in the chair I can see your eyes grow all dim and lovely and deep. But after a time I produced the solubles and you went all goosey so we wandered – yes, just wandered so as to draw out the anticipation – up to bed and it was a bit of a struggle for both of us to walk upstairs at the same time, but I didn’t want to take my hand off your left breast! My hand was cupped so warmly and comfortably round it. And in bed we did have such perfect union. It wasn’t just oats. It was a real reunion and every time I ejaculated we flowed more and more into each other until there was only one of us and instead of being in bed we were in such a heavenly aura – something above and beyond all earthly things and I knew that once again I had lost myself in you. Oh, my precious, you mean so much to me. Do take care of yourself. I wonder if anyone can ever have loved another person as I love you? I can’t imagine it. And I wonder how many other people would really understand this letter if they could but see it?
Now to answer some of the more mundane points in your letter. We don’t know any details of Chatham yet, but if we do go there I’ll look Bill up although Navy pay won’t run to the London Press Club. One night there would cost more than a fortnight’s wages! I can well imagine Wendy’s delight with the sewing machine and I think your Xmas and birthday ideas very good. Dave is lucky getting Wendy into school and it will be a good thing if all the other children get in to Crosby Road. Wendy seems to have gone off Cynthia lately. Don’t be too down on Michael just now while he’s finding his feet. To be thrown on your own resources at his age is a big change, you know. I’m not suggesting that you spoil him, of course. If he’s naughty, spank him good and proper. But we have been trying to teach him to look after himself instead of coming in for protection and I don’t think he is inherently mean or bullying. I think you’ll find he will grow up into a nice lad, especially once he gets to school. I don’t like too pointed comparisons between them. You’ll find them both good kids. That theme could be dveloped further but we’ll let it go at that for the moment.
Many thanks for your letter, I’m glad to hear everyone at Limedale is well but May will miss her women, won’t she? I’ve always had the impression that she preferred women to men. At least the women seem to have lasted longer lately. The continentals who have had experience of the Nazis are very interesting but, as you suggest about the Austrian, I’m always a bit sceptical myself, perhaps through a surfeit of persecution stories in the press and on the radio. And then, of course, so many of the French soldiers and sailors who came over from Dunkirk decided to go back rather than to fight the hated Hun that from that time I began to distrust continentals. Probably quite wrong, but there it is.
I knew, as soon as I heard the advance announcement on the radio, that you would be listening to ‘The Young Mr Pitt’ and had a clear picture of you making yourself comfortable and using the radio to blot out one more hour of the weekend. Did you like it? Sybil Thorndike is in Glasgow this week in ‘The House Of Jeffreys’, but I doubt if I can afford a luxury like that. However, we’ll see how the week goes. Some time I will pay a visit to the Rep Co.
It’s funny that your letter to me today should contain a reference to a consciousness of my presence while most of this letter is devoted to the same subject.
On the subject of the weather, I told you that Saturday turned out pretty rotten. Sunday was a bad day, yesterday turned out a bit better and today is bright and sunshiney but not very warm.
By the way, on the steamer on Saturday I made friends with a lovely little pup. A Sealyham, only about a month old, and just a ball of fluff. The children would have gone crazy about it. It had so much fur that you couldn’t see its legs.
Well, this is all for now, love. Bye till tomorrow. Take care of yourself and don’t forget your green pills! All my love, angel.
Ever your own,
Arthur X