Postmarked ASKHAM BRYAN YORK 22 NOV 39
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, A Coy, 1/6th D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks
The Yorkshire Institute of Agriculture, Askham Bryan, Nr. York.
Tuesday night.
My darling Ronald,
I have retired to bed early being afflicted with “the curse”, and feel in the mood for a few lines to you my beloved.
Actually it is not so early now as I have had numerous visitors lavishing asprins, chocolate and affection upon me. Now they have all departed to prepare for bed leaving behind them the vile aroma of stale cigarette smoke. You know I feel rel {switches to pencil}(confound my pen) quite like Pepys.
Honey, honey, honey it will soon be Saturday. Three more days and then I will be kissing and hugging my own big Ronald.
I’m so sorry my letter to you was such a horrible little scrap, but I simply hadn’t time for more – and hoped it would be better than nothing at all.
The girls are to work on Saturday morning after all, so I don’t think you’ll have an audience, just little Kathleen waiting on the doorstep looking gawky and excited. Are you going to kiss me on your arrival? Yes, of course you are! I am so thrilled at the thought of it all that I shall have to go and spend a penny very soon.
We went to clean out pigs this morning, and gee, what a smell. But I suffered in silence, as the smell is never so bad if you keep your mouth shut. I’m afraid my jumper stinks.
This afternoon we were threshing, but I had the comparatively pleasant job of piling up the straw. But I got a bit sick of doing it all afternoon.
Precious, I have really nothing to say except that I worship you, adore you, love you – and wish to heaven I could be with you always. You make my life so different; and all my thoughts seem to be in some way connected with you even when they are not definitely of you.
I wish this war would end, and then we could get back to the dear old life, But once more I can only say “Saturday ___” I’m sure that the Someday will come. Sitting in the firelight, snuggling up to you at night, kissing you awake, tucking Donald and Michael up in bed – Dearest, I could go on for ever; for ever and ever and ever loving you more every minute.
I wish I could say these things to you, but when I am with you, they all sort of melt in my mouth.
I am going to sleep now Angel boy – when I have said a little prayer for you. I am sure God moved you to Malton, and I’m sure it was he who gave you your leave because I have been praying so hard about it.
Goodnight, and may your dreams be as sweet as I know mine are going to be.
Wednesday.
I’ve just read your letter and one from Mum saying what a nice surprise it was to hear from Cheerybob grown up.
Yes my love, it would probably be best if you deposited me at home and then went to see your own Mother and did your visiting while I had my late lunch etc. Then there would be no time waisted, – we’d meet again after that – threeish.
I don’t feel a scrap like work, but it will make the time pass more quickly. That blinking test this evening is a bit of a blow. I believe it is to be oral. Actually, I expect it will be quite a feeble effort. Probably a questions each or something. Of course I shall likely get a question I can’t answer, but it isn’t vitally important. Not nearly as vitally important as the fact that I am seeing you on Saturday. One would think we hadn’t seen each other for a year. It certainly feels almost like it.
It’s a cold windy day, and I shall probably spend half the morning with the smelly pigs again. Anyway, it’s warm in the pig place – warm and fuggy.
Angel boy, I love you; and it’s time for the bell to go – so I must pip.
Thursday, Friday ____ two more days,
All my love, Kathleen