Blank Envelope.
Albert House, Colne.
11th March
My beloved Ronald,
Here at last is your pullover, my prescious, and I do hope that it will fit you. The sleeves may be a bit too long, but I suppose you will be able to turn up the cuffs. The neck is not as nice as it should be, and I hope to goodness you can get your head into it. If it’s much bigger than mine you wont be able to. If not, please send it back, and I will see what I can do. Anyway, my lamb, I hope it does fit you as there is much labour and love in it. I should say love and labour, but work comes before pleasure – yes?
Now what news is there? Not much. The cheerful news: the old girl is going to Harrogate after Easter Whooppee. We can hardly conceal our pleasure, our joy – the old ?!
Marj, Mou, Joan R. and I are going to Manchester on Saturday to see “Rebecca”, Owen Nares and Celia Jonson in the leads. It is on at the Opera House. This was my idea. It came to me suddenly this morning, and I asked Dad if Marj could have the day off, and he said yes – so all’s O.K. We are going earlier to shop, and then to the matinée.
These days I feel I have to do something. I am getting to the stage where I feel like starting at my toes and eating myself. I am feeling fed to the teeth that I can’t come to Malton on Thursday. Trust you to chose the one day I couldn’t coming having asked Molly to come to the play with us days ago. I was sure it would be Friday or Saturday I would come to Malton. Still, I can’t come, and that’s that; and you weren’t very keen anyway, so maybe it’s better. I shall spend my coppers at Manchester instead.
Now don’t take me wrong. Don’t write me back a stinging letter because I just can’t take it, and would be better of a sweet and adoring comforting note. The nicest letter I have received from you since the war, was one you wrote when I was at Askham Bryan. I would love a repeat, but I suppose you are too busy – with your blasted old Colonel etc.
I am definitely starting at Hatfield’s after Easter, so if you get any leave after that, I shall definitely give up the ghost. Oh confound it. What a world. See, I get madder and madder as I write. Can’t you see my writing going to blazes?!
I have a pain in my tummy. I must fly if I want to catch the post. All my love – and I am only half alive for want of you,
Kathleen