1224/5  Shipworking  Sections  R.E.   CM.F.
No. 198

Dearest,
This is aimed at Christmas, which I pray will be Happy and gay, as it should in the company of your good Uncle Fred and his folk. I’m addressing it to Woodthorpe Road, if you don’t go there, then you’ll get it later on.   Mother seemed to think you were going there. I shall ask Uncle Fred to keep this back if you do go and if it gets there before the Day.

Just read a little book translated from the Italian, in the Penguin series, called Fontemare, its rather powerful and I think, sound. It shows what Fascism is, or was, in this country.

Our Christmas will be simple enough.    The sergeants over for drinks in the morning, and then to the camp to give the men their “Christmas” – cigarettes, fruit, chocolate etc., and then to see them eat the Christian Christmas Dinner, and then drinks with the Sergeants and in the evening a little dinner of our own. I may go and visit Allan and Cliff, in the morning. Work as usual on Boxing Day. But if its a good day I’ll go out in the truck alone with a book and find some goodly piece of deserted coast and sit and think of you and Dickie and Candy.

Dickie’s second Christmas! He’ll be aware of it more next year, I’d like to be present if it can be arranged, please. I hope my little silly Christmas Box arrives per pro Mrs. Anderton, and the Proxy Christmas Box per pro D. Sadgrove and Uncle J.J.H.  They are with my love, of course.

Yesterday I went to La Boheme again, at the ENSA, and it was very dramatic because poor Rodolfo’s voice went at the beginning of Sono Poeta, and everyone was shaken, the orchestra stalled and poor dear Mimi, her third performance only, lost confidence. He sang the act through an octave lower and she gallantly got through with it, and then another tenor took over for Acts  two three and four and did very well, and everyone was so relieved and kind to Mimi who, silly girl, wore two silly little hair ribbon bows, like ears on the top of her head. Mimi always reminds me of you. Oh, that Thing I wrote, if you use it and if its not too late, page two, middle of para 3, first word of the line is Schaunard.    Change it to Colline, the philosopher.    It isn’t Schaunard the musician at all who sells his zimarra.     And add, at the end of the fourth paragraph, after the sentence ending with muff…”What they should have brought was a District Nurse, but no, – a muff.”

Thankyou.    I’ll send a special air letter with that bit in in case this is a delayed letter at Birmingham.

I’ve drawn winter undies today. Three pants and three vests woollen and not prickly, much. New Zealand made they are, where the sheep live I suppose. Talking of sheep Pietro’s wife, who is the gardener here, has one, she has one of everything, one sheep, one pair of rabbits, one goat, a few chickens and one silly quite tubular, very tame little pig.   A youth pig, who snuffles about after her in the friendliest way. She may have one bee somewhere. (She doesn’t wear a bonnet)

My private Purging goes on steadily. The biggest job of all, the Naafi racket is nearly cleaned up now. My predecessor was just damned lazy and easy going and let things slide.  Shocking state it all was.

I have just read the Tempest through with great delight. Now I’ll read As You Like it. I wish there were Shakespeare plays here, but perhaps, tis well to rest from them and read them, and the Opera delights enough. Next week is Aida, which must be seen. Still do I love my Mimi though. Oh, when we go to hear Mimi sing in Paris!

To my son my love, and a Happy Christmas to him, and to Candy and Mother- Anne, and Fred and Jessica and Maurice. Is he still half living in bachelorhood? The silly man. Tell him to mend his ways. I don’t know what to wish Dickie, he has his full bag of wishes, having you. That would content me, and it will.

No more to say, but my love and wishes, for happiness.  Bless you, my dear…
My love & blessings
Ever your
David  XXX

Find a quiet hour on Christmas Day to write. Letters mean so very much.