1224/5 Shipworking Sections R.E.  C.M.F.
No. 220

Dearest,

Having sent a slightly drooped-ears letter yesterday I hasten to send another, with ears well up, because this morning came one of the nicest letters ever you have sent me, written on the 29th in pencil and addressed with a push-pen.  Also a letter from Peter who is pleased because you wrote to him and told him you loved him and JGL and Mother Rose.  Also two 19th Centurys and a Spectator and a Listener.  What a day.  Also I went to town and scavenged for Pettine per i donne, and they are hard to find: I got three from a street vendor but they are a bit large a spikey and all the shops were sorry, “non possiamo trovare adesso…” However one little shop had peculiar ones which I bought up.  I’ll send this lot off and keep the hunt up. They are stars and spangles on them which you can doubtless lever off.  I also bought a pair of shoes at the Officers shop; good sensible leather for 20/5 which is a good thing for the future.  Also a pair of pyjamas because mine go “Skreeeeak” and holes appears if I get the arms wrong when I assume them.

Went to Lucia last night, and as usual the highland costumes were wildly improbable and in the Castle of the Laird in the sixteenth century was a portrait of Mr. Gladstone which was nice. However, they sang like hell and stood about and opened their mouths and drenched us all with melody and harmony. Me and Spink went a deux, he’s the Orderly room sergeant.  Tonight I go to a concert; and have been wildly extravagant and taken a box alone to myself; because they are playing the music from Things to Come and it will be rather startlingly nostalgic and memorable and I am going to feast in the only way, alone in my own box.  They are also playing Beethoven’s Third Pianoforte concerto and Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony.  So I shall sit in a dark corner and let my Mind go free.  Your ears should burn and twitch this night. With the combs I’ll send the Italian translated programme of the Lucia show, its delicious.

So the portrait is up.  I have not mentioned it because I thought perhaps its hadn’t worn well and had become a white elephant and embarrassing and Buried and Not to be Mentioned.  It could have and I wouldn’t have.  Glad it is up, though; until I come home when you can changy-changy (pigeon arabic) for the original. I was enchanted and touched and moved by your news that Dickie knows of me and speaks of me and knows about writing and actually wrote; under guidance, on this letter. Its precious news. And even pinches Jersey Betty’s pencil to write. Bless the lad. It was nice news that. Noon will be here any day now, Panitzke has gone this morning to Hull. I’ll give Noon your good wishes.

Silly Cuckoo, reading TT of the S!  At your age. But when you say things like you do say it makes me want to go and write some-thing: because I know you are being sincere.  If you were saying it just to make me write I’d know and feel awful and never write anything which must be difficult for you!  Altogether it must be that.  Yes, I do remember the incident of Creep saying that. Odd I can never think anything I’ve done is any good, and couldn’t read it on any account or for torture, it would be.  But you saying things does me much good, when, as always; so sensitive are you, you are sincere.  Its a fine thought that maybe you and Dickie and I can live together and love each other and laugh and have animals and hear music and buy books and have friends sometimes and make our living by telling stories about people.  Its terrific.  And that we must remember. Always.  Richard can do what he likes but I recommend milling.  Ask Miller Hancox and Miller Spencer if they’ll take him on as an apprentice.  I think after Cambridge.  But maybe he’ll want to work at the Austin.  If he does we will have failed unless he has a desire and an itch for lathes and spinning metal.

D’you remember the film Things to Come? I do, vividly. We ran for the Last Bus.  An important evening in our lives and in Richards, and in Candys.  In many lives.  JGL says some nice things about you in answer to some nice things I said about you to him. He’s a shrew man with good judgement, thinks the world of you. Me too.  I mean I think the world of you.  And when you send letters like todays I want to go and get an airplane.

Yes, Johnny Feaver is a nice bloke, stolid.  Prejudiced against three things, the Sergeant Major of the other company, dogs and Mihailovitch.  Otherwise he’s sane. We work together well and do not get under each other’s skin.  He’s very keen on his job here, a trifle unbalanced in his judgement sometimes but loyally takes my ruling and plays ball fairly.  Plays cricket well too, and billiards.  Good bridge but dogmatic a bit;

Bless you. That was a grand letter- Ever- David XXX

Hallo son Richard. Grazie tanto per i bacii & notizis nelle lettere della sua Mama. Ritornero subito, credo, & spero!

                                    Daddy- (I’m English really!)