Category: 1939 At War

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8pm 29 NOV 1939
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme. D.W.R., The Goathland Hotel, Goathland, Yorks

ALBERT HOUE. COLNE. LANCS. TEL.NO.282

My dearest Ronnie,

Once more a letter from you by the afternoon post. I suppose you’d get my scrap this morning. As I was on at the hospital in the afternoon having tea with Matron I didn’t get your note till the evening and had only time for a line between supper and the concert.

Your today’s letter is a bit cool and casual for someone who is in love – or maybe I’m feeling extra lovesick. Anyway I shall feel half baked till that something happens.

The concert was very good last night. Both Heddle Nash and the dame were on good form, and their duets were lovely. I tried to imagine I was sitting next to you; and who do you think I was sitting next? Willie!

There were very few people in evening dress this time. We weren’t. I simply couldn’t have been bothered to change.

I am sending a large fruit cake to Askham Bryan tonight – knowing what stingey teas there are. If the weather is as bad there as it is here I’m not sorry to be away.

Yes, Arthur is married. I thought you knew. He was married sometime in the Summer. His address is Thornhill, Goathland – just that. I am sure he would like you to call on him.

What a waste your having the weekend free. I wish you could come home for it. Could you if it wasn’t for the expense? I am quite quite determined to come over and see you when you get back to Malton. Even if it means staying the night – not with you though!

The news is on now, so I suppose I’ll be writing complete junk. I’m in the Club and Katie’s just come to get the tea things. The dining room has been getting an Autumn clean, and we’ve been having meals up here today.

I went in to see Biddy Ratcliffe yesterday. She has had her appendix out. She was looking very nice and quite well; and asked for you. So was Matron asking for you of course, but as Ronnie Knight and his cousin and her son popped in I had no time to say anything about you… When Ronnie heard I’d been having a Land Army course he said he would try and get me a job at Hatfields, but whether it will come to anything or not, I don’t know. It’s a good little T.T. dairy farm with a pedigree herd of Friesians, and Hatfield is very nice; but I can’t see him wishing to pay me 28/- a week for my feeble efforts. Besides, I’d probably ruin the milk yield.

Well Angel boy, we had a lovely week end inspite of ups and downs. It was well worth waiting so long for, and I only wish it hadn’t gone so quickly. All the lovely things pass so quickly. I must see you again soon. I’m hoping you’ll have time for a little note everyday – or nearly every day, because it does cheer me up so. Oh dear, what a lot you mean to me – and it will always be that way.

Have you got your buddha with you? You should have so that you can rub his tummy at regular intervals.

Please don’t gas your dear self, don’t drink too much, and don’t catch cold. And above all, continue to adore me.

All my love with kisses, cuddles, and caresses, Kathleen.

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8pm 28 NOV 1939
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, D.W.R., Goathland Hotel, Goathland S.O., Yorks

ALBERT HOUSE. COLNE. LANCS. TEL.No.282

Darling Ronald,

I’ve just received your letter. I’ve just a minute before going to the concert. I just want you to know that Dad will definitely say ‘yes’ as Mum has sounded him well. She told him you had meant to speak, and he said “Poor Lad”, with a sympathetic smile. Please write darling and ask. I can assure you it is quite ok! It would be a good idea to mention you had meant to ask at weekend but your courage failed you. It’s human – and it would go down well. Angel, you’ve nothing to bother about. A short note coming right to the point. He will say yes.

All my love dear – and do it, Yours Kay.

Postmarked illegible YORK NOV 39
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, A Coy. 1/6^th D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks

The Yorkshire Institute of Agriculture, Askham Bryan, Nr. York.

Thursday.

My darling Ronald,

It is a damp and dirty day, but am I troubled? No, because I love you, and I shall soon be able to tell you so – in person.

These poor fools staying on here, and I am going to be so happy going home with you. I think I shall burst in my effort to thrust today and tomorrow behind me.

I think your idea of going on the cross hills is a very good one, and will suit me fine.

I would like to see “The Four Feathers” as I missed it – just – at the Odeon. Besides it’s nearer than Skipton, and I suppose you will have to go easy with petrol?

This place is right on the main Leeds to York road – so you wont be able to miss it. Come up the front drive, and I’ll be waiting for you.

I shant be really content till I’m on my way home. I hope it’s a lovely day – but it will be a lovely day with you there in any case.

I wonder what sort of mucking about we’ll be doing today. Anything that will fill in the time will do for me.

Don’t forget to leave me room for my case and hat box. It’s a big ungainly, unlovely case of Mum’s.

Well, it’s time I dressed for the days work. I don’t think I’ll write tomorrow honey.

All my love – and it’s nearly Saturday, Kisses cuddles caresses, Kay

Postmarked ASKHAM BRYAN YORK 22 NOV 39
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, A Coy, 1/6^th 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

Postmarked ASKHAM BRYAN YORK illegible
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, A Coy, 1/6^th D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks.

The Institute of Agriculture, Askham Bryan, Nr. York

My dearest Ronald,

A wee scrawl to let you know I am loving you still, and longing for the weekend. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday – . I’ve to have my tea, and fly to the cowshed.

I don’t see how I’ll be able to phone you now as we don’t finish dairying till half past fivish, and have a between sometimes quarter to and sometimes six. But Angel I’ll be seeing you soon.

I’m living for it – but I think you are yellow about Pa!

Kisses, cuddles and caresses, Kay.

Postmarked illegible YORK
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme., A Coy 1/6^th D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks

The Institute of Agriculture, Askham Bryan, Nr. York

Monday.

My darling Ronnie,

Your letter has filled my inside with sewing machines, and I have been wanting to burst forth into song all the morning. Even my lunch hasn’t settled me down. I am so thrilled and wish to goodness it was Friday instead of Monday.

It’s a beautiful day, and even if it were raining, I would think it a beautiful day because I am so happy.

I have been digging up a garden-bed the part of this morning, and we are having to do it scientifically as the horticulture chappy is supervising it. I don’t feel any the worse for it, but I suppose I should if we’d done much more.

I washed my hair last night and it is looking rather frightful. Infact, I warn you, I am not looking very beautiful at all. My face seems to have regained it’s summer freckles. Still, it’s my personality, isn’t it ??!

The concert is tonight, and I am looking forward to it in a mild sort of way. But I am so excited about seeing you that I am not finding time to bother particularly about anything else; not even a test on Wednesday. I don’t expect it will be very grim.

It’s doubtful whether I shall ever get a job on a farm, as there is talk of demolishing the whole scheme. It is being discussed in Parliament. Farm labourers are being kept back – farmers prefer men – and even the farmers wives seem to. So I don’t think you’ll have to bother about me working hard angel. I’m not really sorry as I do feel I’ve offered my services, and the training has done me good. It’s taken the cobwebs out of my brain if nothing else.

It will soon be tonight, and then it will soon be tomorrow, and then it will soon be Saturday. Come as early as you can love – and we’ll have lunch at our house? If I could get off Friday it wouldn’t be till about six, and then it would be dark, and it would be terrible in the black out. Better Sat. Darling I love you, Yours, Kay.

Postmarked YORK 8.45pm 19 NOV 1939
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, A coy, 1/6^th D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton, Yorks

The Institute of Agriculture, Askham Bryan, Nr. York

Sunday.

My dearest Ronald,

Alas, I have just been into Askham Bryan, and have wasted ninepence on phoning the number you gave me. The chappy blethered something about you being in A Coy, and gave me another number which I promptly forgot. And I simply afford another ninepence when I wasn’t sure of getting you even then.  I’m very disappointed as I was looking forward to hearing your dear voice. If I knew you were going to be in I could go down in the evening someday, but I shall be seeing you very soon now anyway.

How I long for it. Less than a week to wait now.

Recent events have made me all the more eager to get away from here. Joan threw a terrible temperamental fit last night, and actually packed her bag to go home. Fortunately I was not the butt of her wrath this time, and it was the matron she chose to insult. Anyway, she’s still here – and I’m still here, and very glad I shant be for long. Honey, you think I’m tempery, but you aint seen nothin! I am very calm and even tempered in comparison with Joan, and she positively overpowers me.

Yesterday afternoon I went into York with Angela and Heather. We went to the Odeon to see “Three Smart Girls Grow Up”, which was quite good. Then we did a bit of shopping, and had tea in Betty’s.

This morning I went to York Minster on my own, being heartily sick of all and sundry – and had a lovely morning. The sermon wasn’t good but the atmosphere and the singing is so beautiful that it did me good. I came out at quarter to twelve, and went to Penn House, Bootham where the W.A.T.S. are, to speak to Elizabeth. Unfortunately she is home on leave – so I wont see her now. I was feeling somewhat cold and peckish, so I popped into a little tea shop for a cup of Horlicks and a chocolate biscuit. I arrived back here in good time for lunch.

This afternoon Betty and I walked to Askham, and phoned you as I’ve already said, and from there to the road house to buy some biscuits. Apart from you, Angel, I think of nothing but my tummy! I wonder if you’ll notice an increase in my girth. It certainly hasn’t gone where I wanted it to, anyway. (The fat of course)

Mummy will be in Glasgow now, the lamb. I have yet to write to her. She is quite prepared for an engagement – so I hope you are. Well, I know you are.

I wish it was Friday. I’d be all set to go now. You’ll have to look your very best dear, because I have a big hunch there will be an audience when you call for me. I thought everyone would be working, but anyone who wishes can go home for the weekend before the second month, so those who are staying in wont be working.

You look decidedly nice in your greatcoat; and trim your moustache and clean your shoes – and take salts on Friday morning!

I am so agog with love that I am about to pitch myself out of the window.

I am going to wash my hair tonight so that it will be just right for Saturday. I’m also going to indulge in a bath, but don’t go thinking that’s for Saturday too. No, I shall need a lot of baths this week as we will be doing pigs in the afternoons. A horrible thought, but Moué would love it. I hear that the smell is ten times worse than cow. We’ll be in the dairy in the mornings which is a nice clean job – and we don’t start till eight o’clock.

Well sweet boy, I must go for my tea (tummy again) I’ll write tomorrow. All my love, Kathleen.

Postmarked ASKHAM BRYAN YORK P(m) 17 NOV 39
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, A Coy, 1/6^th D.W. R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks.

The Yorkshire Institute of Agriculture, Askham Bryan, Nr. York.

Thursday

My darling Ronald,

This writing will be ever more abominable than usual, as I am kneeling on the floor and leaning on the bed. The floor is too hard for kneeling, and the bed is too soft for leaning on; but there doesn’t seem to be a better place to write.

I suppose you were shooting at Strensall again today. I was thinking of you getting wet too, and hoping you had your mac and your pullover with you. Have you worn your pullover?

Friday. I didn’t get very far yesterday. Your letter was doubly welcome this morning as I have just had a big bust with the great Joan Wenyen who has even gone so far as to tell me I am ill bred – because I dared to argue. As you can guess, she won’t get off with that; and when she comes wanting to borrow more money there will be nothing doing. She is undoubtedly a bitch! And I expect she has called me the same thing. Women – how I hate them. So petted, so catty, so ridiculous when they are without men. I shall never go anywhere where there are a lot of females again.

Thank heaven I am going home next Saturday with you. I am so pleased you are going to have your leave. It looks fairly certain now. I am simply longing for it. Couldn’t you possibly get off before twelve o’clock. It will seem such an age to wait for you dear.  I do wish it was next Friday. Oh dear, I do want to see you. I’ve never, never, never wanted anything as much. I think I shall burst you when I see you. I keep seeing you coming up the drive in Donald’s car. I’ve been imagining it all month, and now it’s getting clearer and nearer.

Fancy scrubbing out the cow shed this morning. Oh heck. I’m heartily sick of it.

I can understand how you feel about getting me safely back home. I feel that way myself, and I am without a doubt, a real homey bird. I only wish that you were staying at home too. It would be lovely to have you going to the office every day, and taking me out every Saturday night. I would so love the old routine.

Joan has just been in and apolajized so sweetly that my heart has melted. She was very upset about it, and says she didn’t mean the bit about breeding at all, and that she considers me 100% well bred. What a life. I should have lothed having to go about not speaking to her, and I know she is very fond of me. But I am still glad I’m going home soon.

Darling, I’ll have to go and put my over alls on now. Angel how I love you, and when I see you I’ll kiss you till you shrink.

… I’ve just had a filling lunch, and feel much the better of it. We had a strenuous morning doing the cowshed. Not only did we do our usual scrubbing of the floor and swilling, but we had to scrub the walls and do out the food and water troughs. This afternoon we are poultrying again.

I’m going to the concert at Askham Bryan tonight, and I don’t know how I’ll amuse myself during the weekend. I would like to go to the pictures tomorrow. I asked Mum if she could come over and see me on Sunday, but our letters crossed, and her letter informed me that she might be going to Glasgow on Saturday and staying till Wednesday or Friday Thursday. So I don’t really expect anyone will be over.

Mum was asking for you, and I’ve given her your address, but I don’t know whether she’ll find time to write before she goes away or not.

I hope she manages to get away. It would be just like old Marion to throw a fit or something. She had a party on Wednesday, and used all her own china etc. She would be in her element talking about her belongings. Poor guests.

The sun shines in upon me. There was a beautiful sun rise this morning (you wouldn’t know) and when we finished milking we went for a short walk before we came in for breakfast, and the sky was lovely. A difference from yesterday. I had a feeling you might be rained off.

Well Angel boy, I don’t think I have anything else to say except I love you which you know very well. I am willing the week to fly. Although it seems ages since the beginning of the month, I can hardly believe it is nearly the 25^th. It seems years since I smiled goodbye from the bus though, and I’m aching to see you again.

Honey, honey, honey, I love you. Kisses, cuddles, caresses, Kay.

Postmarked YORK 15 NOV 39
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme., A Coy. 1/6^th D.W.R. Church House, Norton, Malton, Yorks

The Yorkshire Institute of Agriculture, Askham Bryan, Nr. York

Tuesday

My dearest Ronald,

Here I am in my small, narrow bed with a vile light – and a wild wind whistling outside the narrow casement! I have just filed my nails, and take all’t mook out, and I feel all nice and clean – with cream on my face and my curlers in.

Gee, what a wind. I hope you are not out in it. It might blow even you away!

Well my dear large love, I am hoping for a letter from you tomorrow – but I have me doubts. I expect you were shooting all day. What a shame you can’t come and shoot at Askham Bryan!

We are to be allowed to go to a concert in Askham on Friday evening, and I’ve a feeling it will be rather an amusing affair. Probably all the local yokels displaying their talents. For all I know though, there may be some famous singer coming.

The supper tonight nearly caused a riot. It was good, but there was hardly any of it.  It was scrambled egg, and each table had a plateful that one person could have eaten comfortably – without exaggeration. The cook was out an’ it was the stupid matron’s effort. You should have seen the staffs’ faces. Great big open airy men with nothing but a wee dot of scrambled egg! We have started having small bottle of milk each for supper – so that filled us up a bit.

I have developed a terrific appetite since I came here, but there never seems to be enough food.

All that about food.

A lot of people have decided to stay on another month’ but not so me. I have plenty of reason for not doing. The most important, I wouldn’t miss your week’s leave for anything in the world. Also, I am not very partial towards this type of life. The work’s o.k. but I do not like women en masse. They are so stupid and nattery. Everyone gets in everyone elses way, and no one gets anywhere. I prefer to be an individual.

I feel to have learnt a lot since I came here, so surely by the 25^th I shall feel quite efficient.

All day long I am thinking about you, and last thing at night. In fact, it takes a great deal of will power to keep me from talking about you all the time. Such is love dear boy. I do want to see you. I am going to see you this Sunday.

Today I have been sweeping the cow house, bedding and feeding bullacks, and messing about with poultry in the afternoon.

Wednesday
Mary came in to talk to me last night, so I didn’t get any more writing down. I have just come in from the cowshed, and am waiting for breakfast now. When we went out at seven the stars were still shining, and it was beautiful but icey cold. I don’t mind getting up at that time, but I wouldn’t like to be up any earlier.

I have lost the mac I was provided with, and if I can’t find it today I shall be frozen with this terrible wind. Poor fools staying on next month. I can just see them working in the wind and rain, and maybe snow! Goy! December and January are the worst months to train in the whole year I should say.

Well beloved, I think I’ll dust my room, so that if I get a letter from you after breakfast I shall be able to read it in peace. I’m afraid this is even scrappier than usual.

… Thanks for your letter. I’m very sorry I won’t be able to come and see you on Sunday. I am not peeved at all, because there is nothing in your letter to peeve me, you brown eyed b-b-beauty. It’s the last weekend, so it doesn’t matter at all really, and as you say, I can go to the Minster; though it would have to be the afternoon service and I believe it’s not as nice. Still, it’s bound to be better than the service at Askham Bryan!

I am glad Donald is going home this weekend and that you are now on a six hour do. It looks as if your getting off is now quite probable. Am I looking forward to it? It is nothing short of wonderful.

I shall now go and clean out the cowshed with gusto. The dung will be as Coty to my nose!

I got my Readers Digest this morning. Also a notice about a Sanction Show at Skipton. I would like to have taken Prince, as he needs experience, but the bally thing is on the twenty fifth. I missed the last one in August. Tom Moorley is judging – so I’d have hopped up the prizes.

I wish you’d lose your way and come on this road today. And yet I don’t because it would only be a fleeting glimpse; and its nearly the twenty fifth. This week is flying, and the next will too.

Angel boy, I shall have to go and put on my over alls.

Give my love to Ronald, my fond love to Ronnie, and my very very best love to yourself, Kathleen.

Postmarked ASKHAM BRYAN 8 13 NOV 39
addressed to Lieut R. Helme., A Coy, 1/6^th D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton, Yorks

The Yorkshire Institute of Agriculture., Askham Bryam, Nr. York.

Monday, Nov 13^th

My darling Ronnie,

Two letters on the same morning from the same person, and both written in the same sweet style! Now I am happy for the day; and I hope for a lot longer than that. I am really thrilled that you think you will manage to get off for the 25^th – although I shouldn’t really be too thrilled, for something might go wrong. But now that you’ve got your buddha, all will go well.  Although I don’t think they look nice but I do think they’re lucky. Besides, I found a horse shoe on Friday when I was clearing a filthy muddy path. There it was right under my spade. I’ve brought it inside and put it under my locker. Yes, I think it’s time we had a spell of good luck.

Please try and put Donald off coming with us – but of course, it’s his car.  I don’t mind terribly as long as I get home with you; but it would be rather honeymoonish to go alone with you. I’m sure James would lend us his car. He’s very decent that way, and dash it you are quite used to driving all sorts of cars.

So John is going to get engaged is he. Joan doesn’t know the girl, as she says she knows no girls in Harrogate!

You must pop the question to Pa when we get home, honey. Then we’ll go and get a magnificent ring. Just think what a wonderful ring you could have got with £81! Well you did very well to make what you did. But don’t go spending all you have, now!

If the last few paragraphs have been tosh, pardon me. A girl has been in talking to me, but seeing that I was wanting to get on with my letter, she has departed. She has just told me I am the most reliable girl here. Well, well!  My head swells.

Actually, it’s my heart that swells for you dear boy. Fancy you being so near me for the next day or two. You will be almost within kissing distance!  Angel, can I come over and see you on Sunday? Sunday is better than Sat. because I have the morning off too. Please say I can come – even if it’s only for an hour or two.

A bell has just gone – but I’m sure it’s too early. Still, I’d better go and see. The dairy people are having a milking machine demonstrated this afternoon. I milked eight lbs this morning which is two lbs off a gallon. Unfortunately I had to stop to let some one else try, but I really think I could milk a cow dry now.

That bell was not for us, but for the tractor people, so I’ll stay a bit longer.

I’m doing early milking again this week, but I am not sorry, for although it means getting up at half past six, we do finish at tea time. Whereas last week, we had to go back and milk after tea, and we usually got back just in time for the evening lecture at six. We have lectures nearly every night, and they are very interesting, although I’m usually empty and tired by that time.

There must be something funny about the air here, because I can’t get my hair to stay up at all. It flops down my neck, and looks like rat’s tails inspite of the fact that I wear a hairnet all day.  Others are finding the same difficulty, but I can’t see why it should be so.

‘George Formby’ is married, and his wife came for him on Saturday. He’s only been married since Sept. so I suppose he’s sick at being parted. He tells me he is trying to get a house in ____thorpe, a village near here, but at present they live in Tadcaster – so George sleeps in all week, and goes home at weekends. He looked fed up to be back today, though he is a cheery soul.

One of the most annoying girls who talks about her month on a farm all the time, has managed to net one of the instructors – just a wee childish looking lad. I should think he’s been bullied into it. They were out together on Saturday and Sunday.

Some of us went to the road house again last night – for coffee in my case, and it was a terribly dark night. I wonder we arrived home safely, as my torch was just about defunct.

Joan’s Richard never arrived after all, and she straight way phoned another boy! What a girl!

Well love, everything seems ominously silent. I had better go and dad myself in my overalls. See you – I mean write you later. X

Later.
I have just returned from the demonstration which was very interesting; but George Formby asked me to second the note of thanks, which put me off somewhat. Still I managed o.k. and even made a remark which made them laugh – so I guess I’ll do!

I hope this letter isn’t too long, ‘cause I know you are very busy. I’ll just have to finish this page now, as I can’t afford to waste paper.

I hurt my thumb putting bale through the machine this morning. I stabbed down the nail and it is beginning to feel sore when I write.

Please write soon and tell me I can come on Sunday – or that you can come. I must see you.

Honey, get your leave, I am longing for it – simply aching for it.

I’ll write again very soon.

All my love, Kathleen

P.S. I hope the telegram wasn’t too much for a shock. I just had to do something, and I couldn’t phone.