c/o H.Q. No. 5 Port Operating Group R.E. C.M.F.
Monday
Dearest. . . Two letters today, the last from Kettering and the first from HOME. Also the second came to the new address and was delivered without delay by Don R. We may be here for a long time, of course, but for safety its best to use the H.Q. address. Letters are so very important.
So our home is nice and welcoming, and is ready for its Master. I’ve been sitting with the new Colonel this evening at our Sergeants Dance, and he was very touched about Dickie and not having seen him and thinks the sooner I do so the better. A good thing for him to think. Not that he can do anything normally. He’s a nice woolly casual man, large and with only three months to do before he is out, too. A nice little dance, Ronnie had his family up, he gets a family too, but with young and nice females in it. Such a nice little girl he’s got, and she came with her sister and Momma, so in between the colonel I talked to Momma. I saw my folk last night, casually, it being Sunday evening, and arrived at half past eight and they were all upset because they thought I wasn’t going. Its Butterfly tonight again, but strongly minded I stayed away and went to the sergeants dance. Last night was fun. I played chess with Giorgio, teased Suzi Moretti, challenged the plump tenor to a duel because he said my lady Saviozzi had an old face and she hasn’t – he was not serious, and then we all stood round the piano and sang songs, two professional sopranos, a tenor and a basso, and Giorgio in a squeaky sort of gruffish alto, Poppa in an ordinary voice and me in several vague voices. We sang Neapolitan songs, opera arie, and all sorts of things. Even Passing By and Drink to me Only. Then supper and a lot of nonsense. Daft lot.
Tomorrow I am taking Suzi and the tenor, who’s called Assante, to Taranto, they having a special pass and Giorgio, of course, will bounce about in the back and while they are doing their business with impresarios Giorgio and I will go swimming, and we’ll all picnic on the way back. Odd lot.
This morning I went to town and saw Area and had a hair cut at the club and then officed all the rest of the day while Johnny and Ronnie went swimming, to get a credit mark for tomorrow. Its a strange stand-still time, and we have three cricket matches this week. Giorgio and I plan vaguely a day out by the sea somewhere towards the end. You’d like him, he’s fresh minded and light of heart and very intelligent, he has some of his mother’s genius. Poppa is the next devoted, and gradually I am becoming David and not the formal Signor Capitano. Its off jackets there anyhow and there are no badges of rank on a singlet. I did a Thing about them this afternoon by the way but maybe I’ve lost my touch for a bit. Use it as you wish. Suzi Moretti, though a far more famous and talented prima donna is not a tenth a nice as Giorgio’s Momma. Suzi is a woman-of-the-world and gossamer and sweet as she is on the stage, and divine though her voice is, she’s large and shapeless and hardish off the stage. But interesting to study. Her little tenor is sweet and so simple minded. I shall be amused at the journey, he and she in the front with me. Giorgio, as I’ve said will bounce about slightly jealously in the Back. But they are genuine, this crowd, they’ve worked terrifically hard to get where they are and they will hold their places, by guts and talent.
From Mother today came a letter full of the most sincere praises for your little son, and MY little son. She is very touched at your going there and is full of admiration for him and for you in producing him as such a pleasant little person. One does wonder. It all seems too too good to be true.
I’m very relieved that the little pots have arrived safely. We’d better find a worthy museum for them if you don’t want them. It was a fool thing to send them home. With Lanave’s love, and mine.
Much love from me. You cannot imagine how warm and rich you in your home seems, and how deeply desirable. Fortitude, as you say!
Ever Your
David XX