Numbered 114. Postmarked ELIE FIFE 6pm 30 AU 39
addressed to R. Helme Esq., 34, Albert Road, Colne, Lancashire
The Manse, Kilconquhar, Fife
30th August.
My darling Ronald,
I haven’t had a letter from you yet, but I am still hopeful that one will arrive by the afternoon post. Gee honey, I shall be home in no time – no time at all, and I am longing to see your dear fat form again.
We have been packing all morning and we (infants) have got nearly everything in. We have packed one big trunk as full as it can be. We have fairly steamed ahead, but I expect there is plenty more to be done in the way of household goods etc.
I hope you don’t mind, honey. I leant your pullover to John to wear to Macduffs caves yesterday. He wanted to wear one with long sleeves instead of wearing a jacket – so I was really proud to be able to produce yours which fitted him quite well. It returned to it’s customary place of honour in the evening, and was put round my feet which were very cold – and remained there all night. So you see, it has been all round useful as well as a great comfort to me!
Yesterday afternoon, Mum Dad and I after having made our unsuccessful attempt to purchase some fish in Elie went on for a run to St. Andrews. In Elie we met Mr and Mrs Walker and their daughter who had just heard that the boat she was taking back to India is not sailing. She seemed very upset at having to be parted from her husband, but was hoping to get back somehow. She informed us that her butcher said they had been given orders to kill no more livestock, and as this only seems to be in Elie, we can only think that it must be because of the 200 soldiers coming in a day or two. They must be saving their meat for them. The reason we can’t get fish is that, as you’ll know the Forth has been mined, and the fishing fleet are not allowed out.
So we had to have egg and chips for supper last night instead. What a life! Do you still think there isn’t going to be a war – even when your trousers have come back? Well anyway, I’m sure of seeing you soon, and we can talk things over. What shall I do if anything does happen? I shall have to do something.
I am very empty and wish it would buck up and be dinner time. Well, it is dinner time, but there doesn’t seem to be anything doing.
I have tried my captive ball, and it is good fun – although of course, I missed it altogether once or twice. I just seem to top it even when I hit it which is troublesome. Still, I am hoping for a speedy improvement with some more practice.
You were lucky to go from here before the ‘wasp season’ started. It is now in full swing. For the last week or so, there have been ever so many swatted by the great Hunter Crichton – and even I have swatted quite a few. I think there must be a nest near here.
Prince has been more than usually troublesome this morning. He came upstairs and was promptly sick on the nice green carpet. As he did it the first day, he wanted to do it the last day; but this was about three times as big an effort. The grande finale. Just before that, he deposited a worm on the bedroom rug; and he is nodding furiously. So a fat lot of chance there is of him getting a prize. I am rather depressed about the whole thing. He is sure to misbehave himself at the crucial moment anyway.
I believe dinner is about to go in. Good But I don’t suppose it will be anything interesting.
By the by, I discovered a wonderful rash all over my sitting position this morning. There was also a little on the legs and wrists. I showed it to Dad at the request of the others who thought it was infectious, but Dad was not at all hett up, and said it was only a nettle rash; probably some thing I’d eaten. It seems to have more or less subsided now. A very funny place to develop don’t you think? I should never have noticed it if it hadn’t itched me!
To return to St. Andrews (very badly composed letter!) Dad met an old school and University friend there. They hadn’t seen each other for about thirty years, and were more friendly at school than at university, but this man – Dr Alec Dick – remembered Daddy’s face, so they had a good chat. He is the superintendent of a Looney Bin near Glasgow. His wife was with him, and we were introduced.
Ha Ha, I nearly put something very funny there by mistake. Very funny. But I can’t tell you, well not here, anyway.
There goes the gong. I must away to eat (“you think more of your stomach than you do me”) Cheerio, for now. I’ll write a line or two more of trash later.
…. Your letter has arrived and been perused. Very nice, my boy, very nice. You sure are excited about my home coming. It heartens me somewhat. Probably, we shall not be setting off from here till about ten, so you could have written after all. But then, there is always a chance the letter might not arrive till this post. Besides, I shall so soon be home.
We are going out in the car this afternoon. I don’t know where. It has turned out nice.
Now I am just going to say what comes into my head: I love you, I love you, I love you -. Oh dear, I’ve come to a dead lock. The gramophone’s stuck. I love you. But I think it’s time you gave some of my love to your Mother. You are very selfish. Haven’t I always said so?
I’ll be seein’ you, precious. Never mind the crisis, never mind the rain, tomorrow it is Thursday, and Kay comes back again. – Wonderful. All my love including kisses, cuddles and caresses, Kay