Category: 1939 pre war

Numbered 105. Postmarked Elie Fife 21 AUG 39
addressed to R. Helme Esq., 34, Albert Road, Colne, Lancs

The Manse, Kilconquhar, Fife.

Sunday

My darling,

I can’t see how on earth this letter can reach you tomorrow, as there isn’t a delivery – I mean a collection even in Elie I believe and the car will not be back here till late. So it looks as if you are going to be very disappointed in the morning! I can’t see how on earth I can get it posted today. Oh dear, I should have written to you yesterday.

Daddy and Mr Foulds have gone off to Cuiff(*) Gleneagles and district, and Marjor and Bill have gone to Balmoral – or rather, they are heading that way. The others including Granny have gone to church, and somehow or other, I am here alone except for the dogs, which are actually behaving themselves at the minute.

Whether the dog book was a pound or a penny I must thank you very much for it. You are a dear, sweet, kind boy, and I have already derived great pleasure from it. But as you have probably read it yourself, I shall not be able to swank about the knowledge I have gained from it! You’ll say, “Yes, I know. I’ve read it!”

I have read the paper cutting with great care, and find it very obvious. Thousands of people say the same thing, and thousands of people are right, and thousands of people are wrong – because thousands of people have never been in love. I could say I wanted to meet plenty of men, to be taken out by plenty of men, if I did it just know that the right one had come already. Many women simply can’t find the right man – and that’s just bad luck.  When she likes Him, He doesn’t like Her. When He likes Her, She doesn’t like Him. Not enough to marry, anyway. There are no hard and fast rules for love. Love is entirely individual.  And love is miles appart from like. I like heaps of boys and like talking to them (sometimes to your annoyance) but I would hate to kiss them, and it wouldn’t be any thrill to hold their hands!  And I know you like lots of girls, but apart from Elizabeth Bugner and Louise Rainer, you wouldn’t marry them!

I love you, and that’s all there is to it.

I am enclosing the neg. and the photo (if I remember) and I would like the photo back as soon as poss. as it is Marj’s. I thought, as you spoke of an enlargement that I’d just send the neg to you, and the print just to let you see if you think it’s good enough.  Moué’s film isn’t developed yet’ and Mr Foulds sends his to Johnny Flarner(*) so they wont be ready for a bit, as I doubt whether he’s sent any yet.

I went riding yesterday morning, and I had a very good ride – on a much better horse this time. I had a splendid canter round the track. There were three girls out at the same time. School girls. Two of them were quite good riders, but the third was just learning and stayed with the instructor most of the time.

In the afternoon, Bill, Marj, Adéle and I went to St. Andrews to watch the tennis finals, and were nearly frozen stiff. But the play was good. I.G.Collins (that’s supposed to be Collins) beat Morton in the men’s singles and Mrs Ellis (Lizana that was) beat Mrs Robertson in the womens singles. It must have been hot playing, but it certainly wasn’t hot watching… We were home for tea at about quarter past six, and spent the evening indoors as it became very misty and damp.

I went to Tom Reibie(*) on Friday evening and he is very very busy, but I am having a lesson on Thursday at six and one on Friday at half past. That’s the best he can do.  He is lending me a wood. I’m afraid I can’t afford ten lessons and I doubt whether he’d be able to fit them in anyway, but I’ll have as many as I can. Unfortunately although I hadn’t been keen to go to the tennis, and it was arranged for me when I was riding, and I had to pay my share. And three and six is three and six to me. Actually I believe it was three bob.

But honey, inspite of all these many troubles I’ll be a golfer yet. Well, I’ll be just good enough to play with you now and again. But of course, I can’t I fear, be nearly, nearly as good as you are. Still I don’t think I’d like to be really. I like to feel you are my superior – though not in everything of course. For instance, I can part hair, squeeze blackheads, clean shoes, make beds, press suits, wash and starch dress ties to perfection and what is more wonderful than anything, I can tie them!

So you see, I’m afraid, you simply must marry me as I am so useful; and even if I can’t cook, I can open tins! And I’m always cheery at the breakfast table. I even sing before breakfast – quietly, of course.

To come down to earth again, (I was visualizing a charming early morning scene.) I’m sorry to hear about John Hausfall’s face, but if it doesn’t spoil his beauty, it is not so bad. You must certainly ask him for some wool, but I suppose you’ll have to pay for it just the same. No, on second thoughts, don’t. Not yet, anyway, as I haven’t got a pattern, and don’t know the amount and type of wool I want yet. If it is to be a success, it must be done scientifically , so leave it for now.

My writing and spelling get better don’t they? Why do you love such a stupid who writes as if she had only been at school for a year or so?

Oh how I love you, dear. How I wish you were here to cuddle me on the couch. The house is so quiet now. Only about ten more days now. I think you will have to take me to camp with you. Just tell the Colonel that you simply can’t go without me. He’ll understand – maybe!?

Give my love to your Mother. And keep a whole heap for your darling self.

Always yours, Kathleen

P.S. Oh darling, I’m mad, mad, mad.  I have just torn up an envelope that had both the neg and the photo in. Oh dear, I could cry. And it was so nice. I’ve tried to stick the print up and enclose it. I guess you can keep it now. Could the neg possibly be any good with a tear right through the middle. I’ll ask Mr Foulds. Perhaps Hornes(*) could do something with it. Oh, dear, I’m even crazier than you must think I am. But perhaps Moué’s photo will be a good one. Oh honey, why aren’t you here to let me weep on you. I’m an ass (underlined multiple times)

Numbered 104. Postmarked ELIE FIFE 6pm 18 Aug 39
addressed to Ronald Helme, Esq., 34 Albert Road, Colne, Lancashire

The Manse, Kilconquhar, Fife.

18^th Aug. Friday.

My darling Ronald,

What a blessing you are to me. Your newspaper cheered me up no end, and the extracts I read out after I had read threw the paper myself were met with great applause. In fact, Adele thinks you should have gone in for journalism!

Darling I love you and I am missing you so much that I have a continual ache in my inside. Today it is very bad, as I have been shunted out of the attic, and have not now even the comfort of sleeping in your bed, as Mum insisted that the other bed was moved downstairs, as it was easier to take to liets(*). I am sleeping in my old room with Adéle and Marjory, and my clothes are scattered all over the house it seems.

The other big reason for my depression is that Dad is not very enthusiastic about golf lessons, and he heems and haws away about expense and new clubs – and I probably won’t stick to it anyway, sort of thing. He bought John a good driver, and look how much he used it, etc. So it goes on. I can’t both ride and play golf here. And so, I have so far done neither!  Mummy is annoyed, and says I have just got to have lessons as it is your game, and we must have some of the same interests. I shall just have to scrape up all odd coppers, and pay for a few lessons myself, and heaven knows how I’ll get clubs.

I must leave you a minute pet, as I have to do some ironing, but I’ll be back in a few minutes –

Here I am back again, and unless I write speedily, I am going to be interrupted again – by dinner. I’m alone in the drawing room. The others are out in the garden disporting themselves in the sun. It is another glorious day, and I wish you were here to share it with me.

I don’t know whether I shall bathe this afternoon or not. I quite enjoyed my bathe yesterday afternoon, but it was a good while before I got warm again. It was a shame you didn’t see me in my posh new costume, though as a matter of fact, I am a little dissappointed with it. (Wrong spelling?) The bustline is wrong. I shall have to try and alter it. It makes me look much more poke outy than I am really.

Oh honey, come and cuddle me. I feel as if I want a good deal of daddying today, and you’re the only one who can do it. The only one I want to do it. Can’t you fly over and see me.

I could just imagine you setting off for Barlick last night : shutting your door, walking across Spring Lane with your left foot turned in, all your troops standing there – you getting into the bus. ‘All your troop’! It sounds like Napoleon, doesn’t it? But Napoleon didn’t love Josephine and all these other dames of his half as much as you love me.

I bought this paper this morning, from one of the old buddys at the post office. It was only sixpence the block, and the smell reminds me of school exam paper.

Here is the car coming in with ‘the boys’ and the old girl, so my peace will probably be shattered. Somehow I just can’t be bothered talking to them these days. As for Granny, I haven’t been to see her today – so she’ll be ticking me off I suppose. She’s been quizzing Marj. about Bill, and Marj. has been nattering her thoroughly.

Well, angel boy, we are in the third week of the month, so it won’t be long till we are home now. I only wish that I was going to have you for longer when I do come home. It will not be long till you are off at camp. It would have been so much better if your camp had been now, and then we would have been able to settle down to our nice quiet ways again.

It’s queer to think of you way back in Colne and me still here. I hope you are getting on O.K. at the office. You will probably be having your lunch now. I keep thinking of what you will be doing. Where will you be going tonight I wonder. Perhaps you will stay in and write a sweet long letter to me. But then, you’re always writing sweet long letters to me; and if you were here I would kiss your head, and if you looked a me with those lovely brown eyes, then I should certainly kiss your lips. And probably I’d blow in your ear for the pleasure of hearing you gurgling.

By the way, honey, I don’t read your letters at table. I read them afterwards – alone. Sometimes in the lavatory! Nor do I leave them lying about. I put them away in my drawer.

Oh darling I love you. Make this month fly. Yours always and always, Kay.

P.S. Mum sends her love, and says there have been no big game hunts since you left.

Numbered 103. Post marked Elie Fife 17 Aug 39
addressed to R. Helme Esq, 34 Albert Road, Colne, Lancs

The Manse, Kilconquhar, Fife

17^th Aug Thurs

My darling Ronald,

I am instructed to write in a small close hand, as this Adile’s paper, and she wants me to leave some! She wants to know how I can find so much to say to you when I write everyday. Well, honey, I don’t find any difficulty. Firstly, I love you, secondly, I know that whatever I blether about you’ll be interested, and thirdly, when I’m writing to you , I feel nearer to you than when I’m just thinking about you.

It is a great strain to write so closely, and what makes things more difficult is the fact that I’m sitting in the deck chair, and writing on my knees. This is the first time I have managed to bag the deckchair. Moué and Pam have gone to Gail(*) with Dad, Uncle Stan and Grace, and Adile and Marj. are messing about the house. So once more I am alone… I could say lonely and unloved, but you see, I know I’m not unloved!

… A short pause while I get a cushion and my cardigan.

Well, darling boy, I am still missing you, and still loving you, and still cuddling your gansay, gansie or gansy – at night. It is a lovely thought: you having slept in the same bed so recently. I shall in all probability stay there and let Bill sleep on a couch, as it will be so much easier for him as he has no clothes to shift. Anyway, he offered to sleep in the garden, so surely a couch is one better.

I am wearing my celtic ring today, and I wore it yesterday with my celtic bracelet, and they look lovely together. Daddy gave me the bracelet, and he asked me who gave me the ring. When I told him he gave me such a knowing little grin.

Well, we went over to Dollar yesterday afternoon, and the Walkers are really very very nice. Mrs Walker is very bright – and not a scrap like George. There were their grandchildren there, and they were all full of life, and really fascinating – so I don’t know where George has got his nature from. They have a nice house and a beautiful garden with a little wooded glade attached to it where there are daffodils, snow drops and white lilies in the Springtime. There is a photo of George as a young school boy, and believe it or not, he looks really attractive! His mother seems very very fond of him, but then, what mother isn’t fond of her son! They are coming over here sometime soon.

You will be sorry to hear that my left foot has gone flat since I was at Edinburgh. It aches under the in step. I think it is those white and blue shoes. What I want is some really good sports shoes with thick crepe soles. But I’ll have to go on waiting for awhile.

I haven’t been to Ian Reeby (*) yet, but I suppose I shall be in Elie this afternoon. Oh honey, I wish you were here to go in with me. Can’t you come back. There’s a spare bed in the attic, and if the worst came to the worst (or the best to the best) you could always come in beside me.

The Craven Canine Assoc. is having a Sauction(*) Show in your Drill Hall at Skipton on the 26^th Aug. Isn’t it a shame I shant be there. But there is to be another in a month or two, so I suppose it will be in the Drill Hall too. So that will be a thrill for me – yes? I see there is a Sir Donald Harsfall cup for Irish and Airdale terriers. Has he any special interests in these breeds do you know? There is a cup for Pointer and Setters – and one for all sporting dogs.

Wait till we get our bitch, sweetheart, then we’ll have some silver to clean!

I don’t know when I shall know how I’m getting to Harrogate, but I suppose I shall get some how; and you must certainly come. Prince will be very hurt if you don’t as he tells me you are his hero. I’m afraid I had to tell him that you were mine, but he took it quite nicely. One of the reasons he likes you is because you may help to get him a ‘girl’, but I think the real reason is that you make his Godmother so happy when you’re around!

I may risk a bathe today as it is such a lovely warm sunny day, but that doesn’t mean the water will be warm.

I’m so glad your mother thinks you’re a bit brown anyway.

News! Dad said to Marjory when looking at a photo of you “He’s a nice looking lad.” She has just told me, so it’s Stop Press News. Go and buy yourself a new hat.  Yours will surely be too small. The photo by the by is of you and me, and I think it’s very good. I am having a print done for you today – and one for myself. It is the one we posed for on Sunday, and is a side view taken by Marj. Moué’s front view of it has not been developed yet. We look really Mr & Mrs Helmish – all dolled up in our Sunday best. Fancy, it is the first photo we’ve had taken together – just the two of us.

The gardener is mowing the lawn in a very half hearted fashion. Dan and Uncle Stan tried to do it with the Manse lawn mower but it was quite impossible – so the gardener has brought up another which seems slightly sharper.

Give my love to Albert House when you pass, and tell it I shall be home fairly soon now. Tell that to yourself too, sweetheart; and don’t forget that wherever you are, and whatever you are doing, I am thinking of you and loving you – and that is just what I am going to go on doing for ever and ever.

And so honey the days when I’m away from you will soon be past, and I shall be home again to kiss and cuddle you.

All my love, darling, and a million kisses, Kathleen x

Numbered 102. Postmarked Kilconquhar Fife 16 AUG 39
addressed to R Helme Esq, 34 Albert Road, Colne

The Manse, Kilconquhar, Nr Elie

16^th Aug

My darling Ronnie,

A long pause… How shall I begin to tell you how much I am missing you? You can miss a friend a lot, you can miss home terribly – but how can you find words to express how much you are missing your sweetheart!? Well, I guess it just can’t be done.

Yesterday was a miserable day for me in my heart and my feet were heavy. In fact, I could say that I and my feet were flat! And all we seemed to do was wander from station to station – sitting in the gardens between times, and looking at a few shops. I wrote you a pc from the gardens, but didn’t find a single post office or box in Princes Street, so I regret to say, it wasn’t posted. Anyway, I couldn’t say what I was feeling on a post card.

Last night I slept in your wee bed in the attic, and felt very very sorry for myself. Mum had taken your sheets away and had not even left me your pillowcase. At least she left me the lower one, but it didn’t smell of hair cream, and I’m sure your head had never been on it. Anyway I took your blue jersey to bed with me and cuddled it all night. I shall do the same tonight as I derived great comfort from it.

You should be able to play excellent golf in it next time you put it on…. But wait till I have knitted you a nice new blue waistcoat – I mean cardigan, and you have purchased a lovely white shirt. Then you’ll play some astounding golf!

How I wish you were still here. I have just done some very necessary washing. Marj and Adile have gone down into Elie, Pam and Moué are going or have gone for a cycle ride, and Dad and Uncle Stan are mowing the lawn with an ancient and blunt lawn mower…. Mum unfortunately fell down the attic steps when she’d been to waken me, and has banged herself about a bit, so so far she is in bed.

She was surprised and pleased that you had managed to write so soon, and said “What a nice writer!” and I thought, “Oh Sure, and a whole lot more. He’s quite the nicest kisser…” Kathleen Eadie N.P. did not ask to read the letter, but her Mum read that bit out to her. N.P. was quite taken up with her own letter from you, which brought a lump to her throat. The thought of poor wee you coming home after a long journey to find an empty house -. Darling, you’ll never find that when you’re married to me. I shall always be there with open arms, to welcome you home.

In winter time when it’s very cold, and your breath hangs frozen in the air, and you come home from a hard days work, your slippers’ll be waiting by the roaring fire; and there’ll be hot toasted bread for tea. There will be you and me – and some day there’ll be Donald and Michael, and a little girl whose name I don’t know. And so it will go on till your hair has grown so far back that it can’t go any further; and my chin is so big that you can only kiss me with great difficulty. But you won’t mind the difficulty. And your teeth will stand in a glass at one side of the bed, and mine at the other. And so we shall sleep in toothless bliss, saying goodnight with a toothless kiss.

Do I revolt you, darling? Well, we’ve heaps of nice things to look forward to before that.

The day is dull, and like me it sorrows for you. Kilconquhar just isn’t the same. I want you to see the sea with me, you to see the loch with me, you to see the corn with me. And I’ve just got to go on wanting, because you’re sitting in Kneeshaw and Moffit’s office telling your fellow workers about the wetting you got in the lifeboat, and the height and structure of the Forth Bridge and scrappiness and length of the Bay Bridge. I just know you are.

But never mind sweetheart, you’ve been here, and I’ve loved having you everyday; and you’re even sweeter at the breakfast table than you are at supper and you look so lovely when you’re fast asleep – though I only managed to catch you sleeping once. As for the afternoon on the golf links – I did so enjoy it, as I loved to see you so interested in your game, and you made me so interested too.

I shall have to go and have a word with Tom Rasbie(*) soon, though I doubt whether I shall manage it today, as we are going over to Dollar to see the Walkers. Marj., Adile, Dad, Mr Foulds and I are going definitely and Mum if she’s well enough.

Well, Angel, I think I’ll take Prince out for a walk over the links. I shall have to go and buy some stamps first. Plenty of stamps so as I can write to you often. I shall also post this letter, can you see me walking along the wee road to the post office, past the local – which reminds me you never had any Scottish ale, and I really had intended you to have a pint. Next time, and meanwhile you might have one maybe two gills of Yorkshire or Lancashire beer.

Please write again very soon darling, and don’t forget I am positively and definitely in love with you – for always, Kathleen (NP)

P.S. You might ask the Editor to send on a special edition of his paper someday within the next fortnight.

Numbered 101. Postcard, Picture of War Memorial and Parish Church, Kilconquhar.
post marked St Andrews Fife 6.15pm 4 AUG 1939

To Ronald Helme Esq, 34 Albert Road, Colne

Numbered 100. Post marked Kilconquhar, date illegible 1939

The Manse, Kilconquhar, Fife

My dearest Ronnie,

Thanks for your letter. Oh sorry, I am not supposed to thank you for letters am I. It’s unnecessary. (It looks as if I have forgotten how to spell that!)

I’m sorry yesterday’s letter was so short, but I simply hadn’t time to make it longer; although, if I had known, I could have taken it to Elie where the post is five-fifteen.

We have hired two bikes, but so far, I have done no more than ride round the garden. Moué and Joy have been using them. Actually, we could do with four bikes, as it is a good long walk into Elie. At least, it is when you want to go often, as we do, as the bathing hut is there, the shops, the tennis courts etc.

Both the tennis courts and golf courses are very busy. I believe there are two courses near each other. A small women’s course of nine holes, and then the big course. Though I don’t know where one starts and the other ends. There seem to be three pros; and a chap called Forrester charges two shillings a lesson. I suppose a half hour one – so I guess I’ll have to have a few.  Will you leave your clubs here??

The Riding School has changed hands. It is now a chap called A.A. Le. Milne. I hope it is not too expensive.

Well, honey, you will soon be here. Don’t bother about the lack of clothes. As long as they are of good taste (and they are) and clean (sometimes) it will be O.K. Don’t forget to clean and cut your toe nails before you wear your sandels! Don’t bring that tie away, as I have said before. And above all, don’t get annoyed with me too often.

Today is dry but only just, and it is far too cold to bathe, although some people seemed to be enjoying the sea yesterday. We went to watch the tennis for a bit in the afternoon, and Marj was troubled to find some of the players so good. But she, Joy and Moué are going to risk playing this morning. I hope they don’t find themselves too bad.

We have got one bathing hut buy(*), but so far, we haven’t found the bathing hut – though we haven’t looked properly. I think it will be a waste of money myself!

I haven’t found any ‘courting spots’ yet. Well, not real ones. Actually, I don’t think it a very good place for that sort of thing, as most of the fields are cultivated, and so you can’t go in them. Of course, I suppose there are places.

Prince behaved well last night so I had a good night’s sleep. I think he is enjoying himself, and is not being too much bother. We were up early taking both dogs for a half hour walk.

Well lambkin, Marj. awaits me to go into Elie on bikes. Unfortunately, I shall be walking back… I suppose this letter seems matter of fact to you. I’m sorry if it does. But you’ll very soon be here, and then we’ll see a lot of each other.

Heaps of love, yours, Kay

Numbered 99.  Post marked 6pm 2^nd Aug 1939 Kilconquhar, Fife
addressed to Ronald Helme, Esq, 34, Albert Road, Colne

The Manse, Kilconquhar, Fife

2^nd Aug

My dearest Ronald,

Before I go any farther I adore you, please forgive me for being such an ass! I’m afraid this cannot be a long letter, as I now hear that the post goes from here at 3.30, and it is after three now! Oh dear, I should have written this morning but we were very busy settling in.

I have left my pen at home, and this one of Joy’s is terrible. I can’t even write quickly with it.

It is wet today – off and on and a good deal of on!  But we have been into the village which consists of about three shops. We were also at the station meeting Y’Al (*Aunt Alice).

The house and garden, I think, are lovely. Oh boy, what a view from the front. Prince cried most of the night, and Marj and I sleeping above the kitchen, had very little sleep! I was down to him twice, and had to smack him the second time which improved things a good deal.  He was sick twice yesterday – on the carpets, of course!

I half expected a letter today, but I suppose I shall have one tomorrow?!

I am longing to see you; and I do hope the weather improves. The sun is shining now.

Let me know when to expect your luggage. As a special treat, I shall unpack for you!

Please excuse this dreadful scrawl.

Give all my love to yourself, yours always, Kay

P.S. There are an awful lot of battleships in the Firth of Forth – and so many sailors at the nearby stations! But I still prefer the Army.

Numbered 98. Post marked 1.45pm, 18^th July 1939 Colne Lancs
addressed to Mr Ronald Helme, 34 Albert Road, Colne

Albert House etc.

N.S.P.C.Y.M. 18^th July

Dearest General,

We are so glad you have been promoted and we all think you are decidedly cute. We will be even more bucked when you are made a Field-Marshall, or Marshal – whatever it is.

Our President wishes us to inform you that she loves you such a big lot. She is going out with her father and family this afternoon, and shall without doubt be thinking of you all the time. It will probably be to Yelland. Dinner at half-past one – prompt.

Angelface, we do adore you, and we are so proud of you.

All our love, Me, Myself and I

P.S. Our typist is on holiday – and so is the typewriter!

Numbered 97. addressed: Ronald.  No date.

Albert House, Colne, Lancs. Tel.No.282

My dearest Ronnie,

I just want to tell you – in rather a hurry – that I love you. And that if you Fail, I love you , and if you Fail again I still love you – because honey – well, I love you!

I hope you went to bed early last night because I thought you looked tired and weary. Mum remarked upon it too. She thinks you are having rather a worrying time just now.  But honey, I have a big feeling you will be very happy soon.  It must be nearly ten, and I would like to catch the ten o’clock post.  If you can read this, you are wonderful’ and you are wonderful even if you can’t.

Dash, there’s ten. I’ve missed it.  Now I don’t know when you will get this. 

Put it right way in your pocket! Cause I wouldn’t like Harry Layfield and anyone else to see just how much I think of you.

I haven’t even made my bed yet so I shall be getting ticked off by sister Marjory who is probably busy dusting my now.

Think of me at the office, in Barlick, in bed, in the bath, in the bus – .

All my love, yours Kathleen

P.S. Won’t it be nice to see me at the breakfast table?

I have decided to slip this thro your door x

Numbered 96. Post date 1.45pm, 26^th June 1939 Colne Lancs
addressed to R Helme Esq, 34 Albert Road, Colne

Albert House, Colne, Lancs. Tel. No. 282

Monday morning and a day of washing!

Dearest Cuddlewump,

Just a line to tell you I adore you and that I think it is years since yesterday!

When did you get home last night? I ‘phoned at about half past ten, but there was no reply. I watched for you coming down the road at quarter to eleven and quarter past, but there was no you.  In fact I was springing in and out of bed from quarter past to half past, and succeeded in getting very cold feet. And all to no purpose.

Dick Turpin is not doing his famous ride to Gowerbridge today as Miss Frankland ‘phoned Mr Rankin in a stress last night, and asked to have Sally another month. Mr R is giving her till the end of the week to either look for another horse, or to buy Sally at the price he payed for her – no less. But he wants her to rest soon while the grass is good. So I may be riding her over in a few days. Poor Judy is very knackered.

My lower right ribs are sore today as if some one had given me a mighty punch.  You didn’t, did you?

Well, darling, I sure do love you, and if I don’t see you before long I shall wilt.  You will get this before you go to Settle and if you had a minutes time you could ring me up?

I went to Ilkley in the evening with Mum and Wallace and we were only there about three quarters of an hour. We past the dear Middleton. (Dash it, it isn’t spelt like that, is it?) and my heart leapt both going and coming back. We really must go there soon, and sit on the same settee, and say the same things, and look the same way. It would be funny if I wear the same frock, as I should probably slip right out of it.  And you’d have to wear your trousers without the gusset in and you wouldn’t be able to eat anything for fear of splitting them!

Well Sweetheart, I really should be working. How about just a wee conversation on the phone?

All my love, yours always, Kathleen