Your letter written on the 17-20 June came this afternoon which was a good thing. Bless you for it. I was in the office and things had been happenning nicely and suddenly all day when Lo ! A letter and the runner brought a cup of tea and I sipped and read and eaved people away, all very nice.
The situation is under control now and we are established and poised and tutti contenti. I feel very fresh after so Civil a day at Gragnano that it seemed like a week. I left on Saturday late afternoon in the Jeep, having tied everything up and left a lot of little notes, and they were exclamatorily pleased to see me and I spent the evening with them and slept there and spent a lazy sunny morning on the terrace and a grand afternoon in a hammock between two cherry trees and then we walked in the mountains and then on our return Peter was there and we dined heartily and went to the Piazza del Leone, where the Marchese lives and the Marchesa played Chopin and the Moonlight Sonata for us and then jeepilly back, Peter and I. Very nice. I wore the white shirt and felt civil. A good affair. My Carissima Agata was affectionate and we blew bubbles from the terrace through pieces of macaroni, and we snuggled dangerously in the hammock and we played with Goss, a very English terrier with a German name who barks Italian. And we had a high old time. Good, bless us all and I took the Dickie picture, beautifully framed in a specially made oak or walnut frame, natural colour but oiled a little, with me and they all loved him and admired your work.
As Peter said – his first visit – its the nearest to a home atmosphere he has felt since he was at home, they are so genuine and gay and pleasant, and its a most refreshing place to go to.
So Colin has a son ! Good, and you are going to see them all, you and Richard. His longest journey, isn’t it ? Dear me. How I wonder about that child.
The Colonle comes to stay for a couple of days tomorrow, he was so quaintly friendly on the telephone, everyone knows I am doing this job and no-one minds, expect poor Ulcoq, it is a bit hard for him. But what would you ?
Poor you, flaunting the Unwanted Things about the place. I am not very clever at aiming them I’m afraid. At the moment I’ve little energy to spare, being in a job where I can use my energy to the full. But its better thus, really.
Next day.
I came all over tired, & slept solidly in an arm chair, then coffee & welsh rarebit & bed ! So sorry. It’s Tuesday afternoon now. In the office at my nice desk. Awaiting the arrival of the colonel. I have made up another M.F.O. box, bit dull I’m afraid. A few books, some typing paper I’ve bought out here very cheaply, some carbons, & a parcel of Peters. Two coins for you, oldish, & an Italian pistol for Richard to play with later on. Some lorgnettes for Mother Anne & that’s all. Rather dull & nowt to get excited about. There’s a parcel from Peter’s wife too. Oh & some picture postcards. Voilà, – Ecco – there.
Two Richards now hang on the wall by my bed, the baby one & the coloured one. Letter from Nonie today. Please thank her. And a semi-polite (very worried one) from J.G.L.
What an outing you & Richard will have to Marjorie’s place. It’s so good an idea. Bless us all.
Our little booklet is penetrating to Higher Levels now & bouquets come floating down. A small affair which has caused quite a small buzz. Odd. Any views & comments on the ritratto yet ? Uncle Jack & Co ? It ought to provide a topic of conversation, if only critical. Has Richard noticed it ? After all it’s his grandson’s great grandfather.
Parcel been sent! Goody. I love parcels. It will probably miss my birthday but might make Richards. It’s so very difficult to make the grade for birthdays. Parcel post is fickle.
Dear you. Get a fine photograph done of you. And send it. I’m that fond. Aunt Ame wrote so nice a letter this week. Bless her.
All my love, my dearest acquaintance. Glad Mary Webb pleases. I did love our little poem.
