Postmarked YORK 5-PM 10 NOV 1939
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, A Cy 1/6 D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton, Yorks
The Yorkshire Farm Institute, Askham Bryan, Nr. York, Nov.
7th Tuesday
My dearest Ronnie,
A few lines before I turn off my light to go to by bies. I dreamed about you last night, by the way, and it was a very sweet dream which started with a quarrel and ended with a reconciliation – as our quarrels always do, yes?
It was completely heavenly seeing you on Sunday. I was thrilled more than I can say, and it has made all the difference in the world to me. It’s wonderful to think that you are so near me, and that I shall, D.V. see you again on Sunday. I am counting the days: Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday _______. How I love you. How I love you. How I love you. Did you hear me?
I have been working very hard today, and am ready for a good sleep. This morning I spent with the poultry. I was weighing cocks among other things. This afternoon we’ve been threshing corn, and the dust of it got in my eyes, in my nose and in my hair. After tea I milked the cows – or more literally, half a cow! I have greatly improved though, and am now managing to squeeze quite a stream out. It must have been after practising so hard on the artificial udders yesterday. It fairly makes the rists ache.
I had a letter from Matron yesterday. Very nice. I wrote back at once like a good girl. I also had a letter from Mummy too, and she was thinking of writing to you. I’ve written to tell her where you are. She will be very pleased as she was hoping I would be able to see you while I was here.
Gosh, how I love you; and the thought that you love me is completely wonderful.
I’m just going to get your pullover out o the wardrobe to cuddle like a Teddy bear all night, and so to bed. I may add some more tomorrow.
All my love, Kathleen
Friday.
Sorry the beginning of this letter is now so out of date, but I have been waiting patiently – almost – for a letter from you. And now that its come it’s not very bright. I shall do my dairy duty on Sunday now, and I’ll be seeing Elizabeth on Saturday – unless she has to put it off at the last minute, which is quite possible; in which case I shall stay in all weekend.
Tell Mother the instructress had just snaffled my fork to give us a demonstration. I look rather vile in the photo anyway. I like the work here very much now, and have even taken to the poultry. I milked two and a half pints yesterday, which, although it sounds little, is a good effort for a beginner.
But I still want to go home, and I wish it was the 25th. – even though I don’t expect you’ll get it off.
I think Dr Barr is vile beyond works, and you have no business to listen to him. He is a poor doctor himself, and is not entitled to tell tales out of school. And it’s even worse if he knows about you and me. Daddy’s a damned sight better than he is, and if I ever meet him I’ll be hateful to him. Then he’ll be able to tell people “in confidence”, that Dr Eadie’s daughter is as bad as he is!
Just because he can’t keep his patients – the poor fish! I should think he’s joined the Army in self defence.
I suppose it’s nearly time for me to go over to my dear hens. I am in the trap nest part, and I’ve to lift the birds that have laid out of the nests, take the number of their wing taks, and record the lay on paper. I’ve also to clean the dirt off the perches, and resand them. Oh I’d make a good farm hand if I were just a bit stronger and toughter. Maybe it’ll come.
I suppose I’ll see you in December if I don’t see you before. Write when you have time. Much love, Kay.