CHAPTER NINE (A) BACK TO EARTH AND BACK TO SCHOOL
My father came back to earth from the rarified atmosphere of the military’s top brass and landed with an almighty bump.
In early 1945 he was back in London and enjoying time at home in Court Farm Road with my mother, Hugh and myself, despite the continuing wartime privations and the constant threat that one of the last ditch V2 rockets hurled by the Germans at London might do more than just rattle their windows.
But with Churchill planning a General Election, my father asked to be released from army duty to resume his work as a Conservative agent in Devon, even though he disliked the sitting MP, Cedric Drewe, and despite the fact that his boss, Major General Kerr wanted him to continue as his ever-dependable and resourceful ADC.
His long-held hopes of a seamless return to a promising career quickly vanished in the harsh light of a bitter reality and my mother’s dream of raising her two growing boys by the seaside were as quickly destroyed, ruined as surely as the inadequately-stored chairs, beds and tables with which she had planned to furnish their new home back in Exmouth.
My father had had a good war, but others in Exmouth had had a better one – growing fat and wealthy in the vacuum created by the departure of those who had abandoned all to go off and defend them.
He first moved into a hotel as a base from which to go house-hunting, but quickly discovered that suitable accommodation to which he could bring his young family was in short supply and anything vaguely reasonable was vastly overpriced.
He also found the Conservative Association in chaos with incomplete accounts and disjointed records of what had happened in the six years he had been away and his previous disdain of Cedric Drewe, who had held the seat since 1931, quickly grew to contempt.
Handwritten letter (pencil) – March, 1934
Summers Hotel
Morton Crescent
Exmouth, Devon
3.30pm
My own Lovely,
Here we are safely ensconced in the hotel in a room overlooking the back garden of 63! I had a very good journey down, and the train was not a bit crowded. True to form I reached Waterloo 2 ½ hours before the train was due to leave and so was first past the barrier when the gates were opened. The sandwiches were delicious, although you were very naughty to use butter.
I had to change at Sidmouth Junction and Tipton St John and got to Exmouth just after 2pm. Of course the tide was out! It always is here! The weather is dry, but it is one of the usual Grade ‘A’s.
I have written an announcement for the local papers, piling it on a bit and will send you copies on Saturday.
There is a wash basin in my room, so I shall be able to carry out the sock drill.
I hope you “went back” this morning and had a good nuggy-up before Peter woke.
I have just unpacked, and, as far as I can see have not left any essential articles behind, except of course you and the boys.
I must go now, as I have to hand in the “copy” to the Journal and Chronicle (of ill repute!).
All my love to you all
Your own
Man
Sorry about the pencil, but I have not met up with a pen yet.
Handwritten letter – 30th March, 1945
Good Friday
5.30pm
My own Lovely Darling,
Sorry about the pencil, but I have again lost contact with my pen and ink, which is at the office. I expect there are writing materials in the lounge here, but I dislike all public rooms in hotels, with the exception of the dining room!
As I expected this place is full of dear old things, all of them permanent residents and it is very amusing to see their tables in the dining room, which are surrounded with a barrage of patent foods and personal delicacies.
I had a lovely walk this morning, up to Black Hill on the Common, where I found a sheltered spot and lay for an hour in the sun. I then walked down through Withycombe and had a drink at the Holly Tree, and finally got the bus into Exmouth in time for lunch
This afternoon I have had a nuggy-up, and afterwards have been reading my book. I have taken out a ½ yearly subscription at Smiths Bookstall on the station. It is well worth it as it only cost 6/+ and I am now keep a book for 6 months if I like!
The enclosed letter from Inez came addressed to Manchester House.
Miss Irving is coming in to see me tomorrow at 11am, so that I can really get into things again. I have not really settled down to it yet and I shall be glad when I get the car back and the telephone installed. But most of all I want my Fig down here, as I miss her very much indeed.
All my love to you all
Your own loving
Man
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Handwritten letter – April 1, 1945
Easter Sunday 4.30pm
My Own dear Girl,
How lovely to get your letter. I was very interested to see my son’s report. He seems to have done very well indeed, although I imagine “Conduct – good” is a slight over-statement! I am gratified to note that his writing is improving, and can quite understand he has not control of his fingers. When he is supposed to be writing they are probably in his mouth or playing with his nubbins! I am especially glad to see that he shows interest in the band. I am returning the report as you will probably wish to put it away amongst the family archives.
It is a perfectly foul day here. Blowing a gale of wind and raining torrents. Fortunately, I have a very comfortable room, with a cosy armchair and a good gas fire and I have been in most of the day – this morning pressing my trousers and cleaning all my shoes, and this afternoon reading the papers and my two books: the one “The Dark Street” by Peter Cheyney, a spy thriller and very good, and the other called “Lessons of my Life” by Lord Vansittart. (Baron Vansittart was a senior diplomat before and during World War Two and was famous for his opposition to appeasement and his strong stance against Germany.) In this latter book the principal lesson appears to be that there is only one kind of good German – a dead one. How right he is.
I have just been brought a most excellent cup of tea and some biscuits by a young Welsh girl, who is one of the maids here and who appears to be entirely without repressions. On my first morning here, when she called me, she greeted me with the words – “God, I feel lousy this morning. I was out on the bloody beer last night.”
Apart from her somewhat outspoken language, she is, however, the soul of kindness, and, when I returned late last evening, having been to Exeter and missed dinner, I found that she had provided me with a most appetising plate of sandwiches and a thermos of coffee – a kindly thought.
Incidentally, Exeter is a most depressing place now - full of Yanks and other licentious soldiery and with all the decent spots we used to know demolished.
This morning I went to St Andrew’s Church at 8 am. It was rather nice to go back there after all these years to a place of which I have a good many happy memories. The church has been damaged, but the main structure and fabric are O.K. The service was ritualistic in the extreme, and A.M. (Auntie Mim) would have wallowed in it and would almost certainly have fallen in love with the cleric, who is of the pale, fragile, aesthetic type.
Yes, there is still a pussy on the wall at 63, but it is a ginger cat, who has no soul and who retreated rapidly before my advances. You remember Old Cole, who used to live next door towards the Sea Front. I am told he has died recently in a lunatic asylum.
Deangelis (NOT Di Angeli) is still here, sends his love to you, and says he will give Hugh all the ice cream he can eat. Everyone has enquired most kindly after you, for, as I have so often told you, “everyone loves Figgy”.
Exmouth looks exactly the same as it did when we left, and so do the people, except that Father Time seems to have been along and dusted their hair with greyish powder.
I hope it clears up tomorrow, so that I can get out and about a bit. It is useless trying to do any work over the holidays. Everyone is away, I have no car or telephone as yet, and the new caretakers at Manchester House (the Ashbys have left) would not take kindly is being called out over Easter.
Until I get a telephone and the car, there is not very much I can do, as buses are hopeless and trains worse. Drewe is coming down to the Club on Wednesday – his first visit for six years, and they threatened mutiny if he did not show up. We shall see what sort of an account he gives of himself.
I must go now, Lovely, as I want to take a bath, so, until tomorrow all my love to you all.
Your own loving
Man
Handwritten letter
Easter Monday, April 2, 1945
3.30pm
My Own Lovely Darling,
Your dear letter arrived safely this morning. I quite agree with your appreciation of the Claremont Terrace situation. The disadvantages far outweigh any temporary advantages, and I know that the old-fashioned barn of a place would break your heart.
Well, I have practically the whole of Exmouth looking for a house for me and it is my one and only topic of conversation. One of the difficulties appears to be that any house which has been let and then comes on to the market is immediately put up for sale at the exorbitant prices now obtaining.
I was offered a boat house last night as a special favour for £1,000. Needless to say, I told the chap he could stick it!
I absolutely refuse to be bamboozled into paying a phony price for any house just to benefit a crooked house-agent and an opportunist owner.
So much for the house situation at present, but I can assure you that the search will go on day and night.
I believe I told you that Drewe was coming down to the Club on Wednesday. Today, I telephoned him and managed to contact him at his retreat in the fastnesses of Broadhembury. He is due at the Club at 8 and I suggested he might care to come down a bit earlier and have a bite of dinner with me at this hotel – a nice touch, don’t you think, and one which at once puts things in their proper perspective. Of course, he jumped at it and is coming here at 7. It will give me a chance to find out the lay of the land on my own home ground, and will produce better results than a hurried few minutes over the telephone or on a draughty railway station.
In addition, he wants me to hold his hand for him at the club, where he is in a “spot” and knows it. At any rate until after the Election, I don’t think I shall have much trouble with our Mr Cedric Drewe. He is too scared!
The constituency is, of course, in a hell of a mess, but I don’t think it is quite as bad as they imagine. The main trouble as far as I can see is a clash of personalities on the Executive Committee and the lack of a strong enough character to produce some sort of cohesion. I shall find out more from Miss Palmer, when I see her on Wednesday.
Several people I have met have said they would like me to put up as an opposition candidate to Drewe (perish the thought!) and assure me I should have a good chance. It is, of course, very kind of them but utterly ridiculous!
Last night I phoned Aimee Wreford and asked her to have coffee with me tomorrow. She will be useful in bringing me up to date with the local scandal, and also I may want to use Raikes as by Sub-Agent here at the Election. They have adopted a boy, aged 6, whom I shall see tomorrow. Some people don’t know when they are well off!
Today, the weather has cheered up a bit but is still cold and unsettled. This morning, I had a walk along the beach and made a little collection of sea shells, including a few cowries. I have put theses in a box and will post them off to Lickle tomorrow. I apologies for the tissue-paper, but it was all I could find. The Army does at least teach one to be resourceful.
I am so glad to hear the blasted rockets have eased off. I think we should have had the last of them now. That being so, we shall all have a lot to be grateful for in coming through all this business with whole skins.
I think that is about all for today, but I will write again tomorrow.
All my love to you all
Your own
Man
Cartoon heart-faced stickman with letter(?) in hand
Handwritten letter of Honiton Division Conservative and Unionist Association with Capt Jeffrey Gibbs added as Secretary.
Central Office,
Manchester House,
Exmouth
Thursday 4pm, April 5, 1945
My Own Lovely,
Your letter and enclosures arrived this morning. I will write to Allens of Boscombe and tell them to send the desk here to the office - there is no point in it being sent to Mottingham.
Drewe came down last night. Like the cad he is, he arrived 10 minutes late for dinner, with some cock and bull story about having been held up at a level crossing. He is exactly the same, except that his vanity has been accentuated.
I told him in no uncertain terms that I did not consider I was doing myself a good turn in coming back to the Division, that the suggestion of a year’s probation had been a damned insult, and that the past two years had been the happiest of my life. I thought it just as well to start off on the right footing. Like everyone else down here, he is scared stiff of losing the seat, but, as I told (Ernest) Kemeys-Jenkin the other day, I have no intention of being the scapegoat.
Drewe was adequate later at the club, but I don’t believe he spent a penny and, indeed, asked me to buy a drink for him. I was glad to note that some of the members told him in no uncertain terms exactly what they thought of him.
In his favour, I will say that his three boys have done their stuff in this war. One has been on bomb disposal work, one has been with the 8th Army as a gunner throughout the N African and Italian campaigns, while the third – in the Navy – has been doing Arctic convoys to Russian and has now volunteered for submarines in the Far East.
I am still without a car, telephone or typewriter, so life is a bit difficult, the old office typewriter has completely broken down and is admitted by all to be useless. Two days ago, Kemeys-Jenkin promised to bring mine back to me, but I have not seen it yet. As I shall need to use it in the office I suggest (if you agree, as part-owner) that I should sell it to the Association at the current ruling price to be determined by a typewriter firm. It should easily fetch more than its original price. If the association do not want to do this, they must buy me another, although I think the first alternative better, as we should still be able to use it, even if bought by the association.
I am gradually sorting out the office and clearing out some of the dead-wood. It reminds me a little of the hymn “Change and decay in all around I see”.
I am thinking of taking over the whole of the ground floor at Manchester House. The Book Club is going out of the front room, and I should make this my private office. The Exmouth Conservative Assn would take over my present office at the back, and I would keep the big room as a Committee Room and for my clerk – if I ever get one!
I managed to get some FAREX for you today and will pack it up and post it tomorrow, Isn’t it cheap! Only 1/2.
Stationery is very scarce just now, but fortunately, I had a fair stock before the war and it is coming in very useful now.
How wonderful to have had no bumps! I must admit that they got on my nerves a bit at times, but you and Lickle seem to have nerves of steel. Good stock, you know!
I haven’t got my suit yet, but am expecting it any day now. It will be nice to have something to change into in the evening. I have had millions of hot baths lately, so whatever else I may not be, I am certainly clean.
It is lovely to be able to talk to you like this, and I could go on for ever, but I MUST do some more work. Until tomorrow, then,
All my love to you all
Your own
Man
Cartoon of a little house with a To Let sign outside. Underneath is written:
A MODERN MIRAGE!
Hand written letter on blue paper
Hotel
7.45pm (and replete after dinner)
My Own dear Fig
I am sorry my letters take so long. Yours seem to take 1 ½ days.
The weather here is pretty lousy, there has been a high wind today with intermittent showers and it has been much colder.
Yes, this hotel is exactly like Nat. Gubbins. All they seem to think about here is their food,
Which by the way is usually pretty good. This morning however, they gave us warmed-up sardines for breakfast – Ugh!
This morning I spent some time in the office and then had coffee at CRAPPS with the Wreford. She is just the same and it is a damned good job we did not get married, as we would have fought like cats!
She is busy looking after her adopted son, who comes from Chelsea, six dogs, umpteen hens, a bed-ridden mother, and a husband who is suffering from boils. She seems quite happy, but would have been far too brisk and managerial for me. I forgot to mention she also looks after a ferret! From her I got all the local gossip and scandal and a promise of some eggs and some assistance from her husband if he is off the boil when the election comes!
I then went up to Exeter to see the Devon County Council and pick up some Electors Lists. While I was there I bought myself a new mackintosh (42/= and 12 coupons) as my present one which has had three years of hard wear is getting to look a bit seedy. Alas, the collar has decided to do an act of partition with the rest of the garment. A good mack is an essential garment down here, so I don’t feel it was an extravagance.
I came back from Exeter by bus and went into the office, where I wrote some letters and then had a conference with Kemeys-Jenkin. He is a bit under the weather just now, as his son has been killed in action.
However, I had a good heart-to-heart talk with him and told him quite plainly and frankly that I was not doing a good thing for myself in coming back, and that the present financial position was not satisfactory. He entirely agreed and I think will give me a free hand as far as expenses are concerned..
The position in the Division is exactly as I thought. Utter and complete hatred of Drewe, jealousy between the senior offices and complete ineffectiveness of the remainder of the Committee. What a party!
I again stressed the question of a house and he is going to see what he can do. He is on the County Council and a local magistrate, so ought to be able to pull some wires. K-J is a very ambitious man and exceedingly vain, and I think I know how to handle that type.
By the way, yesterday I met the owner of the Little Pickle, who is still going strong and has endeared himself to them all. He must be a cat of 8 years old now, and never once has the disgraced himself. What it is to be Boots-trained!
I have just had an awful thought. You must be penniless and destitute. So here is money for bread and a bottle of rich Bordeaux (if you can get it).
All my love to my family and I hope the shells arrived safely.
Always your very own
Man
Cartoon of gallows with ME on the steps and DREWE dangling
Typed letter with cartoon
Office
Friday. 5.30. p.m.
My Own lovely Darling,
What a Joy! I have got our typewriter back at last. As far as I can see it is in very good condition and if you agree to the sale of it to the Association, it should fetch a decent price. The touch is a good deal lighter than it was, which is a good thing.
What lovely long letter, telling me all the news. Yes, I have got D.S.T.’s photograph suitable framed and have it on my office desk for all to see. I also have the cigarette box, which still, looks beautifully shiny.
I am glad you like my drawings, and I must try and think up one for the end of this letter. I don’t agree about Drewe. I think he SHOULD hang, as long as he goes and does it somewhere else, and does not leave us to clear up the mess.
It has been a perfectly glorious day here, sunny and very warm. Unfortunately I have been office-bound, but I shall try and get out for a walk this evening. I have to call on a chap at the Moriglen Hotel on the Salterton Road, about his beastly vote. You must have had a busy time with five children to think about. Let that be a lasting lesson to you.
I have had quite a number of callers today mostly about their inclusion on the Register. At any rate it shows that there is still a bit of interest in the show. The other evening I asked Drewe what his orders were for me, and he said to report to him in six months that the organisation was in the same state of efficiency as it was before the war. What hope he has got!
Over the week-end I will send off my washing to you. When you return it will you please address it to this office, as I shall have left Summers Hotel by then. I have found some quite decent rooms in Victoria Road at £3.3.0 a week, which is not too bad for nowadays.
I must go now, Lovely, as I have to catch the 6.15 post with this letter.
All my love to you and the PIGS.
Your own loving,
Man
Cartoon of a bowler hatted stick man with a board saying VOTE FOR FIGGY, next to a lamp post.
typewritten letter – (no date)
Same Old Office,
Tuesday, 5pm
My Own Lovely,
I hope the parcel of fine linen arrived safely. The brown paper is worth keeping and we might keep up a sort of shuttle service with it. I am afraid the shirt I sent back has sprung another leak on the shoulder. I hope it is possible to mend it, as it is my favourite, and it is quite impossible to buy that quality these days.
I was a bit mizzy this morning when the post arrived at the hotel and there was no letter from Figgy, but when I got to the office and found two waiting there the day brightened up at once. I suppose £3.3.0 is a bit sticky for Victoria Road, but you have no idea what the accommodation racket is like down here. In the first place, many of the hotels are still requisitioned by the Army and Navy and most of the apartment houses are full of evacuees, so that it is not easy to find anywhere to go. I only got this place through the good offices of a friend, and even then I can only stay until the end of May. Of course, if we do not get a house by then, the thing is just off and they can fight their bloody election on their own.
The situation here is still most unsatisfactory and next time I meet Makeig-Jones, we are going to have a little heart-to-heart talk. I am expected to be Agent, clerk and office boy all rolled into one, and, at the same time as keeping books and records in the office I must be out and about all over the Division. I told Kemeys-Jenkin the other day that either they do want an organisation here in which case they must provide the necessary facilities or else they do not, in which case we will pull down the blinds and all go home. I am not in the least downhearted, but at the same time I am fully alive to the position and they are not going to pull a fast one over me.
I went to see Haynes again to-day about a house. They are very sympathetic and I am sure would do their best for me, but the plain fact is there just aren’t any houses to let and the ones which are for sale are realising the most fantastic prices that they are not worth considering. Everyone asks me whether I have yet got a house, and when I say no there is a little click of sympathy and that’s as far as it gets.
Today I have been in the office all day and have written nearly twenty letters. Among those who have enquired after you are Hugh Jones, of Payhembury, Badcock of Ottery St. Mary and Mrs Vinnicombe, of East Budleigh. It is a great help having the typewriter, and I have given it a good cleaning and oiling. The association have agreed to buy it, and the only thing I am now waiting for is to get a valuation. I am also going to suggest to them that they sell the cinema projector which was bought for £50. It would fetch a fabulous price just now and I cannot see it being used very much more in the Division. Even if they did decide to keep it, I am hanged if I am to operate it again, as the damned thing is far too heavy to man-handle all over the place, and I am supposed to be an Agent, not a projectionist.
The finances of the Association are in a sound state at the moment and there is plenty in the bank to pay my salary, which is all that matters.
I shall be very sorry to leave my hotel where they have been very kind to me and where I have very comfortable, and I rather dread having to go into rooms tomorrow and possibly have to make conversation with the landlady. However I must not burden you with all my worries. You have two of your own already.
I will try and get some marbles for Lickle. I believe however that there is a world shortage of them. Joan’s baby is a girl, but I have not seen it yet. Joan is very much the same and does not seem to have matured a great deal. She has been in the A.T.S. in East Africa for part of the war, but was released when she got “in the family way”. Mrs Bradshaw too seems just the same as ever, and there is the usual number of hangers-on up at the Beacon. I have discovered the secret of the success of the Beacon as far as local people are concerned. They are people of our own type, who find in the Beacon a place which gives them the atmosphere of culture which is denied them by the small-time snobs who constitute Exmouth society. Also, to the drinking fraternity, it is a pub without being a pub, if you see what I mean.
I am disgusted by the amount of food consumed by residents at hotels nowadays. They have four damned good meals a day, and even these have to be interlarded with cups of coffee and snacks. They don’t do a stroke of work, and are purely and simply receptacles into which food is poured, for the purpose of generating sufficient energy to enable them to turn up in time for the next meal. They are real gluttons and would be much better in health if they were treated like dogs and given one good meal a day!
I miss my radio a good deal and once again you will be ahead of me with all the latest dance tunes. I hope the volume control knob has been behaving itself.
It looks like turning into a dirty evening, so I don’t think I shall venture very far. Tomorrow I shall spend again in the office as I want to type out some lists of Branch officials and also get some sort of an estimate of our probable expenditure during the coming year. You can rely upon me to see that it is a very generous estimate.
I hope you don’t mind this lengthy diatribe, but it is lovely to have one of your own to talk to.
Until tomorrow, all my love to you all,
Your own love,
Man
ME – TOMORROW! Stick drawing of JG leaving hotel
Typed letter
Office,
Wednesday. 5.20. p.m.
Letter No. 2.
My Own Lovely,
It is possible that you will get this letter at the same time as my last one, so I have numbered it – 2 so as to preserve the proper sequence.
I think you will like to read the enclosed letter and I don’t have to tell you it is NOT from Drewe,. The “Stops” he refers to is Brig. Witt, and C.M. Smith is Gen. Smith, Chief Administrative Officer at Supreme H.Q. I really did write the Old Boy a nice letter – one of my very best. He deserves it.
The more I think of it, the more enraged I am at the way Drewe has prostituted this Division, and there are others too who have not been blameless in this respect. What we need here is a really strong leader. Someone who will get up and tell the Committee that there are only two alternatives, Either, (1) they want an organisation, in which case they must both pay and work, or (2) they do not want an organisation, in which case we will shut up shop.
I am sorry to learn that you have such a bad B.T., although, or course, it does let me out for another month! Poor old pram! Breaking up at last. Well we have certainly have had every penny of value out of it.
I moved in to-day to my new quarters, which seem comfortable enough, though I shall miss my nice hotel. Fortunately, at the new place there is plenty of hot water and I believe the food is very good.
I think I shall go over to Sidmouth tomorrow and have a chat with Col. Balfour. It is a bit awkward to get there without a car, but I think I can manage it by a combination of train and bus. What a life!
I must go now, Lovely, as I want this to catch the post.
All my love to you all,
Your own
Man
Typed letter
Office,
Thursday, 4.45. p.m
.
My Own Lovely,
You need never apologise for only writing a short letter. All I want is to hear from you and to know that all is well. I hope Gays have fixed the pram alright and that it will at least see Peter out. Any future editions can take care of themselves. I see, however, that they are thinking of taking all the fun out of it by introducing artificial insemination.
To-day I have been over to Sidmouth. I had to go by bus, which always means a lot of hanging about and queueing up. I left Exmouth at 10 a.m. and got over there at 11. The country was looking simply lovely, but I could not enjoy it as it made me miserable to think that you were not there to enjoy it with me. I saw Col. Balfour at the Club and he was charming but quite ineffectual. I then went on to see Mrs Lake who is just the same as ever. Her mothering instinct now has an outlet in sick children, whom she apparently escorts to and from London, and she has also got a woman and a baby staying in the house. When I left her, I meant to go and have some lunch but saw Makeig-Jones in the street and so had to have a conference with him, with the result that I missed my lunch, but caught the bus at 1.50. p.m.
When I got back to Exmouth, I went and had a pot of tea and some baked beans on toast at Emery’s and then came on to the office.
My new rooms are very comfortable and the landlady is kindness itself. Also, to my surprise there is constant hot water in the house though, not of course in the bedroom. All the “lodgers” eat at the same table which I loathe, but which I suppose I shall get used to.
I hope my car will be on the road by next week. The Central Office have arranged that all Party Agents shall have petrol for a minimum of 600 miles per month, and I think I shall be able to get by on this. It will be a great comfort to have the car again, and I feel a bit like a fly in a bottle at the moment.
Still no marbles, I am afraid. I will try in Exeter next time I go there. By the way …… Alright, here it is, and I am sorry it is late, but I have not quite got into the routine yet.
Until tomorrow,
All my love to you all
Your very own
Man
Typed letter, no idea of date
Office.
Saturday, 5.40pm
My Own Lovely,
I have had quite a hectic day today. This morning I went over to Bicton and collected the car. She is in absolutely brand new condition and runs perfectly. There is even the mark where Lickle went for a “long” all over the seat. On the way back I called in at Budleigh Salterton where I went to see the local house agent. But it is the same story everywhere....they just laugh at you. This afternoon I have been up to Honiton. I saw old Dimond, who is just the same as ever, and he sent you his love, as did everyone else I saw. Dimond lost his eldest son in 1942, when he was killed in a bombing raid over Germany. His other son is now a glider pilot, but has escaped injury so far.
Driving through the lovely country has made me absolutely miserable and furious at the thought that you are not here to enjoy it with me. The road to Honiton is exactly the same as it was before the war - in fact, except for Exmouth, the whole countryside has come through absolutely unscathed.
Your letter arrived by second post today, and I hope my missing one has now turned up. I am glad you liked the enclosure.
I have got some more Farex and will pack it up and send it off on Monday.
I must catch the post now. So, until tomorrow, all my love to you all. I hope the marbles arrived safely.
Your own loving,
Man
7JRG
Handwritten letter – no date
Office,
Monday, 5.15pm
My Own Lovely,
What a day! Two letters and a pipe, which arrived in perfect condition in its swaddling clothes. Your letters are the one bright spot on the horizon and relieve the unutterable boredom to which I am rapidly becoming a victim.
On Saturday night I got on the track of a house at Clyst St George, which I was told was vacant. The house belonged to Col. Garrath, who I know was a friend of Makeig-Jones, so I at once telephoned him to ask if he would try and get it for me. However, this morning I received a post-card to say there was nothing doing.
This morning I have been over to Sidmouth to try and fix up a meeting for Drewe. I took with me a woman who is staying in the house and her adopted son, age 6. He is a very sensitive boy and very like Lickle and it nearly made me weep to see him sitting in the front of the car, occupying what should be Lickle’s rightful place.
How lovely to have the black-out off. Down here we still have a full black-out. It does seem damned silly.
I am afraid I did not write any more nonsense over the week-end. I did not feel like it. Enclosed, however, is a record of a conversation which I seem to have ad nauseam just now.
You are quite right about the Germans, and I shall impose no restraint upon your tongue, whatsoever. I agree too much. How all this is the vindication of Vansittart!
Even people at Exmouth have been shocked and have come out with such vehement remarks as “Pretty bad, isn’t it”.
The Association have agreed to buy our typewriter, but, on second thoughts, I don’t feel inclined to sell it, as, if I have to give up the job, through failure of accommodation, it might come in very useful. And in any case it would always fetch a good price in the open market. Don’t you agree?
Tomorrow evening, I am attending a Meeting at Axminster, and am taking over with me two members of the Club, just for the run. One need never lack company on the road now, as every other mile you come upon someone who is thumbing a ride.
I hope the Farex arrives safely. Let me know when you want some more.
I must go now, Lovely, or I shall miss the post. What do you think of my high class notepaper? It is some pre-war stuff I have dug out in the office.
All my love to you all
Your own loving
Man