Scotland
1/7/42*
1^st JULY 1942
First July 1942
July 1^st 1942

Dearest Heart :
My birthday, our birthday, because we share such things.  I’m writing this in the morning, in a vague convoy lecture, because if I get leave of absence from the lecture this evening I’ve a treat on, Hansel & Gretel by the Covent Garden Opera Co, at the Theatre Royal.  I don’t know whether my application will be frowned upon or not, I just wait & see, – & hope for the best.  Its a lovely idea.  Certain to stimulate thoughts of you.

Now that completely serviceable & nice smelling exciting present is truly & morally mine.  Thankyou, seven times seven.  You didn’t ought you know.

I left Caldergrove at 1o/c last night, and began to walk home, a moonlit three miles.  But a ghost bus, dark & thundering stopped for me.  The conductor, & the sensation of many people but none visible in the pitch black interior.  I stood on the conductor’s platform & peered eerily, I then realized that it was full of very tired, silent motionless miners with coal black faces !  As though by magic I was put down at the corner of our lane.  And so I was home.

7.15 in the evening :

No luck over the Opera.  Edward was charming.  He was very sympathetic & explained that it would be the thin end of the wedge if he let me go.  Others would want to go as well.  But he suggested that I might risk it.  But even on a hint from the Co. Commander I thought it wiser not to go and its just as well.  I only had 4 hours sleep last night so an early night tonight will be better.  Peter & I are going to Hamilton for a drink & a birthday supper & then back, clean rifle etc & early to bed.

This evening I had an hour with Ingram over the show.  I’ve got some Blackout ready and various ideas.  It may be all right.  We’ve got a meeting tomorrow at 6.30.  I had intended to go to Caldergrove but . . .  I cannot dodge all this.  I’ll do my best.  Maybe I can get away after giving the Blackout some production.  Your Monday letter came at teatime, a dear letter, in which you had realized that today is my birthday.  I also had a book from Auntie Emma & promise of socks.  50 cigarettes & 2oz of tobacco from Auntie Edie – & promise of socks. & a letter from Mother & £2.  Also a promise of shirts & so on.  Quite the spoiled boy.

I must write to these good people, but not tonight : Your letter, yes & the then cleaning.  We had a vicious assault course this morning & we are all in a pickle.  Along the burn, in the water to our knees, grenades fired at us, clay bombs & so on.  Then a lot of crawling & climbing, much leaping & and then a controlled Bayonet charge of 100 yards & up the Bing, sticking dummies as we went.  Through smoke & gas, D.M. & altogether a desperate encounter.  But taken by & large, fun, genuine fun.  This afternoon we rehearsed the Pass Off for an hour & a half, in the heat wave.  Advancing in Review Order, General Salute & so on.  Then a demonstration of field cooking, & then this evening a lecture by two Poles, officers, on The Polish campaign.

                        No more now, dearest.  Yes, make it D’s & cope & the Croft for lunch.

CALDERGROVE HOUSE

00.05, Hrs. JULY 1st. 1942.

My Dearest one,
Here I am, and here I’ve been since seven o’clock, writing the enclosed. I restarted, as is my wont, and at this point decided to call it an evening. Bertha is delighted with it, and so – modestly am I. I hope you are. Its designed to a pattern, four, women and plenty of action, historical accuracy and lots of dramatic situation. Is it all right?

And its my birthday, thankyou for your parcel which I opened this evening, and peeped at, but have nobly in trust until tomorrow. I peeped but did not really look. You naughty darling, its lovely and indeed, with all sincerity, Just What I Wanted.  People have them and its so convenient and, in the field or at units one has to have everything compact and neat and now I shall have. And that Pont book. Pleasure for all of us in our room. Thankyou very much and bless you.

A tie of excellent taste and quality from your mother to whom I shall write and two hankies from Woodbine Cottage and this dear letter. Don’t on any account leave it about or let them know I’ve sent it to you, they’d be hurt. But I’ll write and I’m very touched by the thought and the hankies are useful bless them.

A quiet day today, lectures all the while, M.T. and Water supply. And I streamed out here this evening, with a late pass till two, to get going on the enclosed.  Bertha and Jennie want to take me to hear Hansel and Gretel tomorrow at the Theatre Royal, Glasgow, by the Covent Garden Opera Company. We’ve a lecture at 6.30 – “all cadets will attend”- but I’m trying to get off, I’ve written a note to the C.O. If that fails I’ll go late. Its so kind of them.  But if its lovely I’ll miss and want you. All beauty and music and colour and design and anything which touches the heart floods my being with a consciousness of your absence.

Bertha, the dear, has just come in with a tray of tea and scones for me, and a shaving stick as a present!

I hope to finish this this week and then that’s another done. Two guineas from the C.T. and more later when it earns its other dividends, Children’s Hour and perhaps your nice fuzzy Mr. Fuller.

They say the train gets in at seven forty something on Friday fortnight (That sounds nearer). So the Crofters will have gone, because it will probably be half past eight by the time it runs in. I thought it would be earlier. I might bribe the engine driver to open her up a bit, of course.  But would you like to meet me at the station? Or shall I still come up to the Croft?  Or to the Brookes, or to an hotel, or to D’s. How d’you feel. Play with each idea and see which fits best. Maybe you could get out from Great Alne in time. Or could you? Eileen might go a bit earlier to be sure and you have coffee in the Queens until the train ran in if it were late? You’ll be an officer’s wife then, ahem.

Bertha is by the fire reading the script, I’m going to drink tea and talk some more about you, and then home, maybe she’ll run me, maybe I’ll walk, maybe catch a belated bus. what does it matter. You do.

Bless you all, assure your mother that I’m charmed with the tie and her very sweet letter, and kiss her and Candy for me.

                                                  Ever and ever your own…..

                                                              David   XXX