1st July 1945
It was nice to hear your voce on the telephone las night my sweet. t’s such a long time since I heard it.
Yes darling, I had thought of you coming up here while your parents were in Minehead but I really didn’t feel that I should mention it. I should love coming home to you in the evening but you do realise sweetheart that I have to leave just after seven ion the morning and don’t get back until after six thirty in the evening. Of corse I’m back by one thirty on Saturdays but it does mean getting up eaeky, six am at the latest. Am I really worth it?
I’m suggesting that you take the 2.30 train on Monday from Minehead that gets to London about 7.30 and I would meet you as porters are hopeless.
Plese bring my watch, pen and another pair of shoes.
Don’t forget sweet that as yet I have not received permission, though I can see no reason for it to be withheld.
I’m off to India Office tomorrow to try and sort out my pay. Keep your fingers crossed my love, it’s our car going up the spout!
Can’t make head or tail of what I’m supposed to do at Woolwich yet, twiddling my thumbs seems to be the most important part. I’m getting quite dextrous.
Russell was on the phone this moron. He’s at Caterick now o course. He will apparently be due leave in about a month.
Yesterday I went to the cricket match with your father and it was a very pleasantly spent two hours.
Your mother and I went to Abbey Road Baptist church this evening and I saw los of people I knew. Everyone asked after you and Anthony: George Lines, Rose Seale and the whole family of Rae’s. Of course your mother and I fell to talking about them on the way home and your mother laughed when I said “Just look what I could have saved poor Hilda from.”
Well, darling, it’s time I went to bed. It’ll be fun when I go wit you but we mustn’t forget we have to be up early.
All my love is yours and Anthony’s my sweetheart.
I love you,