c/o H.Q.   No. 5 Port Operating Group R.E.  C.M.F.

Dearest….Your son Richard’s birthday, which has been in my mind all day and we drank beer to his good fortune, Barry and I, this evening. I wrote him a short letter just now which I hope he likes.    Allan came to dinner and saw his pictures and likes them.   Everyone does. I do.

Two letters yesterday from you, one about the play for which the costume had come and the other about Ronnie’s domestic troubles. Poor boy, I’m glad he had the wits to confide in you, he thinks a great deal of you, being a man of taste, and you will have comforted him.    As I see it, considered logically – a difficult business with questions of personal relationship, it is thus.   Either he is the kind who doesn’t get affected by personal troubles or he is the sort who is distressed by them.    If the former, then the answer is to tell her to go to hell and carry on, selling the house if he likes. Or even take no action at all.  But as he is of the second type some definite action must be taken. Therefore, definite action. There are two kinds, dep-ending on his feelings for her.    If he were truly in love with her, and life without her were a wilderness, then he must bring the affair to a head and try to win her good sense and favour. But one cannot be in true love with a person who treats you with indignity as M. does, therefore his action must be to break it all. It has failed. Drooling on is misery for a long time and is cowardly.  It must stop with a clean break.   He must tell her his complaints, in writing if needs be with a carbon copy (yes, as business like as that) and with legal advice.  Next he must separate legally, if she once fails from his reasonable terms of cohabitation. Next he must take no notice of her and finally get a divorce, either providing the “evidence” or getting proof of it. The scandal is a small price to pay compared with the misery of ten years of it. Real friends will understand and help. Strong action is the only sensible action. He will later meet the real type of girl and then if the love is true, she won’t mind. You’d have married me if I’d been divorced, you’d have had to, anyhow. But this is objective and such affairs are very subjective. Poor young waif that he is, to have blundered so badly, for the habit of marriage instead of for real companionship. You and I scented it at once. I have a sort of a claim on Ronald, as I knew him when he was young. If I can help I will. Its a tricky business though. He must definitely go out for firm action, plain speaking and no shill-shallying. He’s got to be ruthless. My God- if a woman searched my pockets or spied on me I’d have a Lovely Row.    Unless it was you.

I have not written for three days, they have been excessively hectic days, and on two of the evenings I  am afraid I went to Gioia and stayed too late.  The days have been full of Conferences and Decisions and persuading people, the Area Commander, a clutch of full Colonels and my Colonel what to do with our problem. It has been a Great and Glorious Victory.    On Friday morning there was a hard conference with the Brigadier, and I had to sort of hold the fort, and on Saturday we had more conferences, and on Sunday yet more. The result is that our men were reinstated at dawn this morning, guard withdrawn and we have started work.   Their fears were groundless and my assurances that the men would be all right have been proved true because they were as good as gold and so very very happy.    They worked like stink and moved 1200 tons of Nitrate over the day, and the hundred allowed out all behaved well and came back for Roll Call at half past eight this evening in good order.    So we are forgiven and reinstated and that is that.    Other   battles wage on, about moving our billets, but I’ll get my way.    But as I am the only officer in my company, and have to speak and act for both companies, and Barry and Shannon are all in the other crowd we are busy, which is a good thing, Days fly past and the more there is to do the easier it is to do.

On Saturday I went to Gioia at eight and had supper there and we sat on the flat roof and watched the great yellow moon and sang a little and when it was time to go they implored me to sleep there, one because they and I didn’t want to break the little warm party, and two because Marina and Granny were a trifle nervous of Bad Men In the absence of papa. So I was given a bed in Giorgio’s room and slept there and had tea (the nearest they could get to it, bless them, and bread and butter at seven and left at half past and was on parade at nine. Last night I took Poppa out to them and had supper but, despite great requests from all and Giorgio in particular I left at eleven and drove back in the moonlight. There is talk of a two to three day visit, but things will have to quieten down first here. It would be nice, Giorgio and Giancarlo and I could drive to the sea to my golfo and bathe. Its very very hot here, hottest for twenty five years, and the sea is tempting. I may dash off early tomorrow afternoon and bathe and dive and sunbathe.

I sent off the Lanave picture today of the little house. I argued with him about the perspective of the right hand wall of the house, but he proved to me he was right. You may think it wrong too. Hope it arrives all right, the varnish wasn’t quite dry.    Take out the tacks holding the corner pieces first and there you will be. Browns will frame it. I can’t think what kind of frame yet.

And you and Dickie have been birthdayed again. And me not there.  I thought much of you on yours and of him on his. We drank his health this evening, Barry and Allan, who was up for dinner and I. And yours we drank solemnly at Gioia on the roof with vino. Sang a little Italian song for you too, a Tuscan lullaby, “Jesus I pray for a little baby, with hair blonde and silver and a sweet voice like the something or other Tuscan”.

We shan’t want the Gioia cassata, we’ll have a villa at Florence. And another for a while on the Sorrento coast, of Amalfi.    But Great Alne will do for me.   Yes, lets decide to move to Hampshire or Dorset or North Devon.    I fancy a larger kind of house, on its own, old and straggly with more character in the garden and perhaps a little stream. A mill house maybe in place just too awkward for town dormitory seekers.    An obscure old rectory might do. St. Anthony, if laid on will cope. I agree to the plan and well make it definite.    That will be the first step.   Not too near all the family but I’d like a little cricket please.   But let us say, for good and all, we will move to the south. Agreed? Good. Good luck with the play. I wish I remembered more about it, damned if I can remember which is which.
My love, my love….
ever…    David

Yes I remember Scalby Mills Hotel!