On board ship again. Yesterday I “started” one off & today I have gone to the one I worked at the beginning of the week to finish it. We hope to finish unpacking & leave fine, empty holds by 0700 tomorrow. We’re going all out, the magnificent chaps they are. So I have good food & a nice undisturbed day. Yesterday I had my typewriter with me & managed to write two articles. Today at 0400 it was deluging with rain so I didn’t bring it. A pity I’d have done two more if I had. But I’ll write to you & maybe make some notes. I do want to make some money for you & Dickie. I will, though it’s not easy here. Do the best you can to sell this . & say “the enclosed article(s) were sent by my husband from Italy. He has asked me to handle them.” or some such. DON’T FRET or feel CROSS if they are rejected. Maybe I’ve lost the touch. If you like to make a collection of excerpts from my letters for the B’ham Post do so. Could you. Telephone “Gwenny ” & tell her I’ve been in the Sicily & the Italy landings & would she like excerpts from letters. Maybe acceptable just now. You could add a tiny ¶ here & there. It’s only a suggestion, to help with the rent.

                        Poor Pioneers, they hate rope ladders over the ships side, some of them. We have them stowing the craft alongside. Docks op. unpack & send great big nets of ammunition or oil over the side & pioneers stack it in the L.C.T. I have not met Sgt Fry yet. Some of the Pioneer officers are charming & poetical, others are rather bounders. (NOT for quoting) I’m only suggesting that you quote pictorial or scenic or topical passages. Watch for censorship regulations. Forget the whole idea if it’s distasteful to you, or too much on top of Dickie. It’s only an idea.

                        We can now say that we are in Italy. Also that we’ve seen certain places but no place names. So : I have seen the Isle of Capri, also Vesuvius with his gallant white plume, looking so much like a picture postcard. I saw Etna of course in Sicily. We were in Tripoli before the show in Italy on the 9th of last month, but I was allowed to say that long ago. Seeing places, all for nowt.

                        Yesterday I had a very interesting job of starting to unpack a ship, untying the string & undoing the paper as it were. (I’m getting rather good at this game after all). It’s great fun, taking over a ship & starting it off. Today I have one to finish. It’s a 10 or 14 day job, the complete unpacking.

                        Oh, Mother-Anne’s tenants. Has she some. I do hope so for her sake. I know she’ll feel a load off her mind. Hope they are satisfactory.

This  Peter & I went sight-seeing in a “Carrott”. Jolly good name for it. How we bowled along. So pretty it was with polished brass lamps.

                        Just now, discharging some “Flysol” – Flit stuff in tins from the deck we found a nest of six new born rats. About the size of your little finger, stark naked & blind, with fat legs. 6 ! We dropped them into the Bay & they swam breaststroke for the shore, but I doubt if they’ll make it as it’s ½ mile away, or more. What the damned ships cat has to say I don’t yet know.

                        Bless you for getting the Shakespears; no parcels have percolated through for anyone yet though. But they will, perhaps for Christmas.

                        Five of them went to a party last night, of the Mess I mean. A party given by some civilians in the apartment over the way. But Allan & I stayed in, for one thing a long day calls for early bed as health is most important & for another I prefer to sit quietly at home. But the farm people I met when I bought wine, chez Raphael, is a place I’d like to visit. I have been asked for the day & shall go when I get the chance. Genuine Italian country life, unchanged by Fascism, pre- last war, traditional & kindly. The living room has in it 2 vast double beds & a dog that cracks walnuts for himself with his teeth !

                        DOGS. Dog. Golden Eared. I’d like to fondle her & the Missis. What a handsome pair you make when you walk out together.

                        I wonder what Auntie Edie will do. Live on at Southgate in her rather typically lovely home, – where I did some of my more sober courting & therefore hallowed ground for me ? Or live in a smaller house- the “Sisters” will be difficult I expect. She’d do well to spend a while at Kettering, where Mother can look after her. Do mother good. She’s not happy really unless she’s bothering her nice head about other people.

                        Did I ask you to send me some of these if you could get them ? There in short supply here. I’m very dishonest over them & exceed my ration very much. But I’m so fond of writing to you.

                        I have sent a wooden cigarette box to Fitz. Don’t tell him, it will take so long to arrive. It’s a local craft, this wood & I think you’ll like it. It’s from Richard’s father. With thanks. I’ve sent you a sort of    for no reason at all. Give it away if you like. It’s nothing special.

Can you read this? I find so much pleasure in writing that I want to make it last as long as possible. I often recapture the scene in which you write to me. In our most delicious bed – in the familiar room now so different because Dickie is there. Yet familiar still because he will take on the atmosphere which is our home. If it is good, he’ll show it. And because it is sincere, & created of love & happiness, as he himself, so it should be a good influence on his impressionable and growing character & personality. I am not so bewildered now. At times I lie or stand & relish the realisation that I have a son, that you, of all people, have granted me man’s deepest desire, a son of his own. Add child, a man child. But you have read my strained sonnet. And gradually I am getting to know him, to be one with you & him. My deep self-knowledge & your brilliant descriptions between the lines of which I can read, are giving me a full understanding of him. We are not strangers, nor ever shall be, no matter how many years pass before we see each other. My need of a son was greater than I ever realised. The sense of completion is wonderful. How much more wonderful must it be for you, – flesh of your flesh, feeding at your breast. We are the fortunate ones indeed. God grant him grace & a happy mind.

                        Having eaten an orange I’ll go & wash my hands, a mostly luscious orange, brim full of juice. See you in a minute, my hands lux-scented.

                        And they are. Since leaving the letter I have patrolled the dock. Signalled the craft movements, had half an hour on the Bridge with the Captain, and affable if self opinionated gentlemen, – as skippers are, & written some of the Log. Low clouds over the mountains, & I suspect rain. Soon these men will be relieved by others & I’ll have fresh Docks op. & Pioneers for the nights work. Glad when it’s done & I go to my little camp bed, of which I have grown very fond.

                        Just lit a cigarette with my Ronnie blue lighter. It still functions. I’d like Arnold to find a job for Washbrooke after the war. He’s a good lad, a splendid worker, and excellent Batman & so like Ronnie Brooks.

                        When does Simon have his sister ? Christine Grainger is due at Christmas, or Christopher as I say it will be. Thanks for the news of Harry’s daughter. She should be a charmer, if a little on the surface as regards character.

                        How fraught with possibilities is our life to come. You & I primarily, our adult life to lead, but Dickie too, not interfering, always kept in proportion, yet a source of comfort & belief in the reason of our life. You, my wife primarily, & then Richard, my son. MY SON – it’s a miracle of blessedness.

                        My love to you, dearest. Pay your bills, live your life, be tranquil & happy and never doubt that I, though absent, am spiritually with you.