1021  Docks  Operating  Coy.,  R.E.  CM.F.

Dearest,
AYesterday I sent off another Guardian-Post effort on Alberobello which I hope will please your friends the editors.   Hawk ’em about and get what you can, for the cause is good.    If we can get familiar with the Guardian we might get a spot of reviewing after the war or something. I’d like to get on to more literary work, criticism, literary column, or something and less BBC afterwards, what do you think? We must see.  I must get work, anyhow, and the BBC is rather trying and there would be more tranquillity about regular writing especially as I feel my judgement is settling down and my abilities are not standing still.   A novel right away of course and some stories too.   We must see. But for Dickie’s sake it must be worthy work and commissioned, we can’t live by our wits and chance only.    I’d like your opinions on this please.   Did you send the Post article that was used?    It helps if I can see them, they look different in print and I can work out lengths and wordage and so on.    It is not vanity.

Night shift last night, properly dressed of course, not in pyjamas, and then a hot bath breakfast and a good solid sleep and some Welfaring this afternoon, and up in the camp this evening as duty dog.

Postie has not been very good these past two days so I have none from you but I can imagine you all and do, every night, go to sleep thinking about Richard and you.   It is a lot to think of and I am so warm with gratitude and kindness and fondness for you both.    Its a lot to have a whole son, even though smallish for now.   People do seem to like him and that’s a great blessing to be liked, one can then not help liking other people.    I think so much about him, and I like him in a double way, or am very well prepared to like him, first as belonging to you and to me, to us, as being the embodiment of ussishness and secondly quite on his own as a person to be an improvement on me, to be my son, and to be a companion on his own and for himself, independently and individually.   A person, a human being, who for ten or twelve years will  look to me for guidance and will feel safer and happier with me than with anyone else except you, and later who will, if I have been true to him, have a specially warm affection for me.   Yet I mustn’t expect much, he is he, and born free.

It is most important that when the picture arrives you arrange us to be alone when you take it out finally.   You’ll see why when you see it.    Anyone else would be an embarrassment.   The main opening had better be outside but when you get the paper covered framed picture from the gas-cape, take it into the front room with something to take out the four drawing pins. Its a dreadful time of waiting, for the news of its safe arrival and of your opinion of it.   Still, its on its way and there we are.

How does the writing side-line bookkeeping go.  Have you a book if so could you send me the details, names of articles, who sent to and returned by, who accepted by, how much paid?     If you haven’t all these details, the names of accepted ones by whom and the fees will suffice, please, (I must keep at it and do a plenty for you)    I’m being economical now and strongminded about not buying things.    But I m that fond, I am really.

I’ve got a little garden, in large pots on a flat roof outside our flat, some stocks, some geraniums, maidenhair fern, and other things yet to be identified.    I water and weed and trim and care for them and supply the mess with cut flowers now, all very nice and cheery.  We do live well, Frost the Gentleman’s Gentleman is superb as waiter and Cuoco does his stuff and we get along famously,   Live better than we did at home in-many ways, as regards messing anyhow.

What of Nonie and her newest? How are they panning out. And what of their garden?   You are obviously doing wonders with ours, you and Mother Anne and Harry,    my love to mother Anne by the way I don’t always say it but say I know what a Good Person she is and how happy I am to have her there. Its bad luck the sale of her house failed but perhaps a better fish will bite soon.   What are her post war reconstruction plans? Presuming the house to be sold?   Cheltenham still?   Its a suitable town for her innate dignity and poise. Difficult.

I wonder about Richard and the picture that was moved from the bookcase to the Tallboy and he missed it and found it.   That’s encouraging, difficult for him to have a picture to work on. Will he connect the two, when I am there, or brush me aside and want only the picture?   More docile in the picture, the painting will give him another aspect.  He’ll get a bit puzzled when an animated one is there, speed the day.

This is a flipperty letter, but I did want to write though there was nothing, much to say, except the niceness of saying it.   We must play the gramophone and sit and look at each other and go a-walking and just be together.    I’m rather dreadful about letters, you and Mother are easy to write to but I’m remiss about writing to Gwenny and people whom I do love really but not like that, and if I write at all it seems a waste if its not to you.     So bless you, my dear and be happy, our parting will end and we shall be together again and this time…. Wow…

All my love and kiss that son of mine please for me. I like him well by repute and intend to do so in fact…
Ever your own – David