1021 Docks op. Coy R.E.  C.M.F.
No 123

Hullo dearest:
They came yesterday, the snapshots & the picture.  Its very very good, & brought a lump to my throat.  You are clever & he looks delightfully alive.  You have given me a better understanding of the person I try so hard to visualise the than I thought I’d ever have.  I’ll have it framed & I’ll wave my spoon at it.  He does look a nice person.  And the photographs are fine, and he’s so solemn.  Uncle Fred Thirlby so very Uncle Fred Thirlby & all of you & Candy her inimitable self.  The best of all is you & him & Candy.  You are a one & no mistake.  Oh dear.  You are a fine sitting bird & no mistake.  Don’t you look well & lovely too!  And Candy lying down & looking with one eye.  A fine affair.  Grand pictures.  Thanks so very much.  I look at them often.  Dear me!

Allan’s popped off for four days holiday to a wee town nearby, & I’ve come up to the camp to administer for him, rather fun.  So I have regular hours again & the orderly room to play with.  Its fun.  Our camp is an Italian one where some of the 8,000,000 glittering bayoneteers were housed.  You’d be surprised at the changes wrought by a unit of RE!  We’ve deloused it completely, dug drains and plumbage, repainted, fly purged, & made it most habitable.  Not very clever, the Italians weren’t.  Especially not about plumbage.  These flowers are, I believe Indian lilies.  Very vulgar. The Education Officer’s Course was most exhausting but very stimulating & well done.  Now of course I’ll be full of ideas & enthusiasm.  Poor long suffering sappers.  Hope I don’t start ABCA discussions in the home.  Poor Ricardo.  I liked his little letter now he’s obviously getting the wrong impression of me!  His handwriting is blessedly like yours.  Any more mobility shown yet.

Looking at the pictures I realized what a charming little dog you have got.  She looks so Candyish!  Heavens, you & Candy & this apparently likeable Richard, and me not there.  But I, love, must not wail, I could be so much worse off!

Peter & I saw, & wept over, & saw again (secretly) Journey for Margaret.  English child actors are infinitely better than American ones.  Has there been any American invasion of Great Alne?  One hopes not.

Real Italian weather now, blue skies & bright seas every day. Everyone is Browning nicely, not off, but up.  An awful lull in my Thinging!  I am sorry.  Not very clever.  Little things cease to satisfy.  I’ll try tonight.

Wow.  Mighty slayer of flies – me.  I have a whisk at hand & slay them ruthlessly.  Not a pest yet, but their growing. The precautions we take, all of us.  You don’t know.

Look here, after the war we haven’t half got to make some money.  Because of Frost.  He is quite perfect & has attached himself to me with a canine adhesiveness.  He is young & fair & serious but can, if it is not out of place, smile with young freshness.  He serves food exquisitely, pours wine softly & moves quietly.  He forgets nothing & is completely soothing & orderly.  I know he’d come & Freddie for us.  With Freddie to see to dining-room, drawing room, waiting, telephoning, door answering & my valetting.  We’d live like the Savoy.  And he’d get on well, in his courteous way with Mr & Mrs. Stanley & Wilf & Mary & the little maid you find.  He’d be sweet with Dickie – Master Richard too.  He loves music & I sent him to Butterfly & waved from another box.  He’s superb & he is every inch ours.  O dear.  What shall we do.  He’d worship you.  You’d love him.  He’d do flowers too, & he & he alone would clear my room.  If you could marry him to the perfect little maid, we’d be set for life.  He’d shatter Jeavonsish folk with, “if you’ll hold the line, Madam, I’ll see if Mrs. Scott Daniell is at home”.  Dickie’d love him.  He’s unique & he’s very Candy.  What shall we do.  Dear Freddie.  He brings me my coffee on to the balcony so pleasantly & is always exactly right.  He’s never ruffled, & he has a quiet sense of humour, twinkly.  No serf, Freddie, free & English & bred of good professional service.  Bless us all. Che faciemo?

My little Anne Marie just tossed a lovely rose into my lap as I sat reading on the balcony (I’m back at the Mess) & said “Io t’amo – molto.” Shall I bring her home too? & Ferdinando & Beppino?  I collect tribes, like Abraham.  But I do love you. Oh so much.  The niceness of every one only accentuates the deep haunting sweetness of yourself.