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Place                                                                Clues

SCARBOROUGH Friday Evening, 9p.m.    1/smoking concert  2/just after B’s visit

Here I am in my hidey hole again, and I’ve just written a five no six page daft script for a smoking concert here tomorrow.  As the Battery is CB Jenkins has got up a smoking concert in the Gymn, avec beer, and he’s asked us all to sing a song or recite, so I’ve come out of my shell and written a daft broadcast visit to the barracks, for Foster, Nott, Redman and I to do with a radio.  I’ll send the script to you afterwards, all about the Square, the Officer’s club, gun drill, driving and so on.  If Jenkins passes it it ought to go well, if they’re all beery enough.  I hope they are. Anyhow, its fun. Hence the late starting of your letter.

                        This week’s over, and we’ve had a grand time, a lecture a day, the mornings tinkering with lorry engines and the afternoons driving round and round in the sun shine. A nice life.  I’ve been in every evening, not left the barracks since you went, bless you. We didn’t go out for fish and chips last night, I cleaned my rifle carefully instead.

                        Are you settled down ? I am, though its an empty life now and I’m only very slightly melancholy, just tinged so that when the barrack room sings, I sigh and look up, pull through in hand, and reflect and then go on oiling the breech.  But I’m happy having you in England, being mine as I am yours, though temporarily apart. I sleep soundly and rise early and refreshed, and I drank the lemonade last night. That was a magnificent walk, that was.

                        A parcel from Auntie Emmie today sending me Roberts Northwest Passage, the same man who wrote Rabble in Arms.  Bless her, its a used copy she had sent to her, she sends it for the barrack room library.  No letter from you because you couldn’t get it here in time, there’ll be one tomorrow, that’s a certainty.  I’m still moved about Jim Jeff’s ten bob, bless them.

                        A gloruious day, the sky a fine blue and the sea a deep one, and white white breakers on the edge of it.

                        Thank Uncle Jack for the Spectator and say that I’m glad the war will be over a week after his birthday, he put a note to that effect under a remark in an article that some fortune teller named November 3rd as the end of the war. So say I’ll be there for his birthday, which, WRITE IT DOWN is November 10th. Do do him a card like you did once for me, all the things he likes, his car, his garden, the mill, and so on.

                        Write to my mother if you have time, I have yesterday. And tell yours i’ll write to her when I have time, breathless days, this week-end’s booked now, tomorrow rehearsals for our little show, and Sunday note-writing on this week’s work. Also a letter to you, the nicest pastime of all.

No more now, I must stand to my bed.  A Big Kiss for Candy, and love to everyone and BUCKETS OF IT, to You,

Its all very upsy-downsy and I can’t tell whether I shall be free tomorrow evening or not. I am managing things to work out that way, but there is still considerable danger of being booked up. I shall have my children until seven anyhow, and then I shall be free or I shan’t. Could you telephone me between 5 and 5.15 at the Dairy, Aston Cross 0784, or before 4 if that is   inconvenient ?  The later time is the best as I shall be more certain to   know. I shall do my very bestest to be free, and do apologise for being so vague, but its Press Day tomorrow and life is mad and wild and wooley accordingly,

I’m working all Sunday anyhow, so I ought to have tomorrow free.

If you can telephone all will be well, and  I’ll  say whether I shall meet you at  Pattisons  at 7.30 or, lamenting as I say it, whether it will have to be next week. Do telephone if you can I’d hate not to have an evening a deux if I was free,

Sorry I cannot write intelligently just now, but its a harum scarum day.     Thanks for your letter. Yes, I’m nearly all right now, it was a brace of Malarias in rapid succession which made me so mournful last week.     Sorry if I was half vacant, I tried to be intelligent.

Bye bye, I’ll have an ear cocked tomorrow evening between 5 and 5.15. I shall be there of course until seven if that suits you better, but after the office closes at five they have to fetch me from the Works, and its a bit of a  traipse. But it is quite efficient. Don’t telephone before 5 as I shall be seeing Rolf Unwin off to London between 4.30 and 5, and shall be closeted with him and others  in the office  all  afternoon.

As far as I can see Sunday is ruined,  its been taken for Dairymaid purposes,  and as a matter of fact, it was inevitable when I think how short time is and how much is to be done.  And on Saturday I’ll have to go out to the Erskine’s home at Wythall so that I can go  out to the cottage on Sunday morning, busses don’t work until after ten on Sundays.  So that’s mooked that up. Forgive me, and write a letter instead. I  can’t write at the moment becasue    I must hustle to the post. The organisation for the week-end has only  just been made five minutes  ago.

This is a new time to write letters for me. But we had this expedition to the pictures with Harry F. & we came in early. So with a familiar babble about me & a candle alight on my rifle rack by my bed for when the lights go out on us.

                        Yesterday evening I had a sudden desire to go down Town alone, away from everyone, & to see Town apart from other people, as when I went down last you with there. So I dodged everyone & sailed down alone & went to the Odeon & saw Pimpernel Smith. I couldn’t tell Harry, so this evening I went again & said nothing. It was kinder so, he’d not have understood my desire to be alone last night. Afterwards we called at Newlands & the plump lady in black served us. After that we crossed to the fish & chippery, but alas, no fish. We consumed 5d. Of chips & Billy was there, bless him. A bit depressed as a full week in Depot with many Cookhouse fatigues. But he braced up as we went back to the Barracks.

                        The film was good entertainment & if one accepts a story which is far from watertight & somewhat obvious characterisation, it’s really good. This morning we had P.T., pleasant, too, & I had a squad to take at agility, me ! Then we went out with the Grey Ants. The regular army trucks, tiny little powerful things. You’ve seen them, bonnets like armoured cars, very powerful & tough. Great fun to drive & we drove down town & up to Oliver’s Mount. You should have taken me. It’s a fine view, all Scarborough, & the three bays. You must come next time. This afternoon we did Tasks, & for John S’s information, Tasks are 16 specified maintenance Tasks laid down by the Army Council, & if these 16 tasks are done regularly, one a day, the vehicles will be in perfect condition. For a mechanised army, this is very important, – vital. Hence the importance attached to them for M.T. courses. We keep on doing them every afternoon, so that we can pass an examination at the end of our course.

                        This afternoon I emerged from beneath a lorry, all oily & happy, having been messing about with the transmission shaft, & received two letters from you. One written on Monday night & one on Tuesday. Dear letters. They told of happy village affairs, coffee at the Knoll, bridge at the Jeavons, Peter as a civilised medico, Klaus as a persecution-candidate, & all your witty comments & brilliant little shafts.
Good about the cards. I think I’d better specialise on R.A. cards, people will jump at them & there aren’t many blokes here who have our appreciation of cards.

                        Dear Eileen & her hat. She could be so very charming, & you can help us so much. Do so. I’ll write to her, a daft letter.

                        Oh, the cheque. You dear old muddle-head, it’s no use to me at all. It’s made out to you. I could fake your endorsement, of course, but it’s no use. What you must do is to sign your name across the back, the top opposite to the stamp, & then take it to Lloyds Bank or Buntings & they’ll cash it for you. You could pay it into my account at Lloyds Bank, & I’ll send you a cheque for the rates, but that’s a long way round. All clear ? There’s a telephone bill due soon, I don’t suppose they’ll be any margin after the rates are paid. We do need that book to sell !! Are you all right for general running expenses ? Poor Darling having to worry at all, I do hope I can take them all over soon. I’m very intrigued about this mystery parcel you promise, very intrigued. Parcels are a great thrill.

                        Oh, thanks for the new batch of cuttings. I haven’t read them yet. I’m going to read them tomorrow in the back of the lorry.

                        No more now. Lights have gone out long ago. It’s 10.45 beds & sleep from me. All right a longer letter tomorrow. Now, all my love & kisses beyond count.

I’ll write to Roger.

                  Tripe, twaddle, turpentine, Taradiddle, Tiddlywinks, Tantrum-turveydrop, Tangayika Turniptops, Traklepated-Toshpoddles, Tindle-toes and Taxapations. I quote you. . . “Please don’t think you were wrong, Don’t think you ought not to have married me. . .” I don’t, I never have, I never shall, and the only thing I do think is that you shouldn’t perhaps have tied your glittering self to Poor Old David. But thanks to you, Poor Old David isn’t so poor, not either way.

                        And look you here, your Friday letter has come, about your mother. You’ll have forgotten this by the time this is read that if she gets you rubbed up again, and causes any trouble or unhappiness to you, right or wrong, I mean even if she were to be right, away she goes. I like her, she likes me, I’m glad to give her sanctuary, lost soul that she is. But for me your happiness is utterly predominant in everything wherein I have a hand. And in spite of your pleadings, in spite of the horror of your family, inspite of whatever may happen to her, if she causes you unhappiness she gets a firm order to quit from me and one I’ll mean. One has to take the main course and from my detached point of view up here I can see main issues. Your happiness is all that matters to me. If your Mother’s temperament causes you unhappiness, and cancels the blessings of a home of your own, then away she goes. It’s up to her.  Is that definite. I know how it is, I’ve observed her with you for a long time, way back to the Oakfield Road days. It’s affection twisted because of her own psychological distortion, and it can be cruel for you. I thought in your home, as our guest- the Grocer’s Bill is surely not a full compensation ?- she would be different. But if not, then. That is a solution . . . .And it will be for your own good. I’ll tell her so if necessary, and meaning it. Poor Darling.

                        And if she talks of money in this business, which is silly, we can pay her back in full and cancel all obligation, during the next 12 months. So that, wife mine, is that. I’m deadly serious, too. I writhe the when I hear of you being subtly tortured.

                        Phoof ! I’ll heal you when you come up next Saturday, SEVEN DAYS.

A cheque from Capes this morning for fifteen pounds “with Mr. Capes personal good wishes”. I wrote for a sub, but of course, as the thrill is orders, there’s no money to come, so they wrote explaining that. But at the bottom Miss Jerbert said, “I showed your letter to Mr. Cape and he said “send him fifteen pounds with my good wishes”. I pay it to the Victoria Hotel tomorrow evening in advance and there’s your home in Scarborough for Christmas. O.K. ? That’s enough for twenty days, or fourteen if I spend six of them here as well. Hoity toity Cats-a-jumping!

                        Now about other money. I hope to have a fiver for you here, that will be your Christmas money. Can you raise the money for          (a) Klaus-fair

                                                                                    (b) your ticket and travel ?

                                                                                    (c) Squaring accounts to date ?

I can raise some more money if needs be, a loan of a tenner until May 1st would be easy and above board. Miss Herbert says “Doubtless your high hopes, now dashed, will be justified before very long as the book will certainly sell well this Christmas. So forget little money worries. And if your Mother talks “money” and pleads ingratitude say that David will pay off everything she considers to be owing if she doesn’t look out. Money is still a blessing for us, it’s only delayed from Christmas. But we can still sprawl at the Victoria, we have had some luck with a novel published by Capes. Clear ?

                        I hoped this letter I had would mention the chunk of novel, but obviously it hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll hear later. I could write this evening but I’m tempted to go out, alone if possible – I have dodged Eric W. twice already this afternoon – to see “Freedom Radio“. And a meal, too.

                        A Lovely parcel, you dear thing, all those cigarettes and the gloves on the cards, and your letter about the Home Guard Social. (Pause to sell two dozen cards, the fund grows in the tin box)

                        Christmas card list herewith. Add to it, and I’ll keep our R.A. cards for all these people. My query three addresses, do you know them ? Arrange for our post we send on by Mrs. Edwards, I’d love our few cards on the Victoria mantelpiece. Tell your mother NOT to make cracks about you coming to a hotel with me. She might remember that we have been separated rather abruptly and that we share and affection she can’t appreciate or understand. And that is our business and if she wants to stay at Great Alne she can. Pshaw. Berumphalingo !

                        So long as that bear stays at your feet, all will be well. But mark my words, he will hang by the neck. Will he dare to come to Scarborough ?

                        I shall sell some books for Christmas to help the family finances. But with the hotel bill paid and some petty cash we’ll be orl right.
Proust is DELICIOUS.

                        Nice to have our room reserved and paid for. Incandescentarious.

                        Strange are the uses of adversity.

                        I’ve two books coming for you, one for Marjorie and one for the Tisdale, that right ?

                        Bring some books for us to read in duet, won’t you. Was that piece of book all right ? Was it ? I wonder.

                        No word from the Pavilion, so Victoria shall have the full benefit of our custom and like it. Poor Pavilion, little does it know what it is missing in your absence.

                        Your manage the women all right. We’ll get some chairs in our room somehow and make that F/H/Q (Family Head Quarters). And an Englishman’s Hotel Bedroom is his castle.

                        We’ll walk a bit. Some evenings I may be on duty and can’t come out. That’ll be dreadful, but I’ll send a substitute. (Substitute to certain limits only. Is that clear. Yaraboodle-day.

                        Now I’ll paddle off the first house and maybe get back early enough to write a little. I’ve some notes to do too. I must keep up-to-date and be a good boy and come out high in class, now that I’m a prefect.

                        Dear you and dear everyone. Stupid mother you’ve got, so nice really with just that great weakness of lack of control and persecution hallucinations. She has no one to persecute, poor dear so you have to suffer. Bless the fowls, too. Do they still do anything in the gg (e) line ? Can uncle Jack suggest what to do about making their run less MUDDY ? If you asked him he might tell Harry or you could tell Harry. Or I could.

                        Bless you dearest, be happy. And soon I’ll see that you are. Are dates definite ? But what’s it matter, it’s seeing you and laughing with at by from and through you that I want, and you’re scent and delicious nose-angle and presence and voice. Tomorrow I telephone you, yes I do, and then not for a long time.

Your sympathetic letter came yesterday, two letters, in fact. I expect my ankle hurt you more than it hurts me ! I’m getting on nicely. I’m still “Attend B” = light duties = lectures & no parades & slippers. I can press downwards firmly now & use my toes. But its tender & sharp sideways. But it’s no problem except when used. The M.O. calls it a “severe strain”! & Is sympathetic & efficient with it. The worst is over so don’t flinch for me. By the way, it’s the left foot.

                        So glad that Mother’s  is more pleasing to the doctor. Poor dear. What a time she has had. You’ve been the perfect daughter-in-law, & your overwhelming success with Skipper is very consoling. I love his reaction to Sunday after-dinner tea – the Hoover !

                        It’s extremely cold here, too, & your camel hair scarf is a godsend. I wear it cunningly under my denim jacket. But we get the stove going well in the evenings & have a good fug.

                        It seems quite likely that I’ll be able to wear boots by next Sunday & that means I’ll be able to go to Romsey, if I don’t have a guard. There’s a chance of that. But I must hope I’m lucky.

                        Yesterday was a routine day. I had two periods indoors while the rest drilled, & then as it was all lectures, anti-gas, map reading, musketry & E.C. (Engineering Calculations) I was with them. After tea the M.O. gave us an hour lecture on subjects chosen by us. Very good – P.T., cleaning Barrack rooms, Field dressings, scabies, lights, varicose veins, vaccination etc. He made many very good remarks. Talking of a certain kind of lice he said – “it would run through a girls school in 10 minutes !”

                        In the evening we  & had a coffee in the Naafi, & I read some Hardy & went early to bed. There was the usual spitting & polishing.

                        It  be possible for you, & maybe your mother, to go to Romsey for Easter ? This is only an explorative question. I could possibly get there on Saturday & Sunday & have sleeping out passes for those nights. I’m not sure if I can get them to go so far afield, but that can be ascertained. It’s just an idea. For two week nights we could stay at a cottage  perhaps, you returning to Romsey & me here in the daytime. It’s worth considering. You’d close the house & bring Candy & save expense that way, save your fares. I’d love it. Shall I suggest it to Honor & see what she says. One little bed would do for us.

                        I enclose a letter from mother & send you all my very best love. You are a wonder woman.