8th February 1961

February 8th 1961


Darling Alan,

We were talking about the RAF at work today.  One of the girls’ husband used to go around finding the bodies of the pilots that crashed and take them back to camp.  Now, why can’t you have an interesting job like that Alan!

Thanks for those photos.  I like the one of you on skis.  At last I’ve got one big enough to go in a frame.  So, as soon as dad sets to and makes me one it will fit, it is going on my dressing table.  Usual remark of girls at work: ‘lovely scenery.’

Me: ‘Yes.’ (in that sort of voice) Answer: ‘No, I was talking about the background!’  You needn’t laugh.  I didn’t think it was funny either.

Y’know.  I suspected it was you in that empty shop.  I recognised…the limp.  How much did they fine you?

How many nieces and nephews will I have when I am Mrs. Blake?  I’ve always wanted to be an auntie and my friend at work thinks she is so clever because her sister’s expecting a baby.

Your post office out there is messing us about good and proper.  I got a letter from you by morning post Monday and another by midday post Tuesday.  The Tuesday letter was a marvellous surprise but the bit I don’t like is knowing I’ve got to wait ‘til next Monday for another letter.

As I keep saying to mum only another 48 letters and you’ll be home.  Keep on posting letters on Thursdays won’t you because they always brighten up my Monday mornings and make the week seem a bit shorter.  After the last letter dad said, ‘haven’t you run out of topics yet?’ His only answer was a dirty laugh.

I saw Psycho when it came over here.  At least I went to the cinema when it was on but I spent most of the time under the seat.  And I didn’t have a long walk home in the dark by myself.  I went with someone I had met at a dance.  A merchant seaman and a wee bonnie Scot, named Malcolm, would you believe.  We got on quite well together.  I couldn’t understand a word he said and he couldn’t understand a word I said.

They have been canvassing for volunteers for overtime at work.  One of our stocks is being redeemed so we’re just about swamped with work at the moment.  I put my name down for 2 nights a week which should bring in an extra £2 a week of the badly needed lolly.  We have to work until 9 o’clock but that includes three quarters an hour for dinner, which is supplied free of charge. But we can have sandwiches and leave at 8.15.  It sounds quite a laugh staying late but we don’t even know if we’ll be needed yet.

I reckon that is a smashing idea about coming (or is it going?) down, or up or across to Innsworth to meet you, on that fatal, never-to-be-forgotten, always-to-be-remembered, longed-for date.  I hope Harry will take (bring?) me in the car, cos let me loose in a railway station or town I don’t know and I’ll lose myself for years.

It is a smashing idea, but…..   If Lena does come over, she will either go back the 26th or 27th, which means I will have to see her off or bring her along.

I’ve got tickets for a Valentine’s dance on the 17th February.  Have you ever heard of Philco tv and radio?  Well, it’s their firm’s dance.  They hold 4 a year and they are pretty good fun.  I’m a bit apprehensive about this one though. Wait for it – the gory details of the life of yours truly.  From May until December of last year I was going out with a Philco employee.  Then at the Philco Christmas dance (23rd Dec) we had a terrific bust-up.  (You can probably guess what over. Another chance for my powerful right hand) and I haven’t seen him since.

The problem is, unless my friend (female) and I can get a lift home from some poor unsuspecting body, we will have to leave before 12 to catch the last bus.  This Derek has always been our chauffeur.  In case you were wondering at the time, that is the Derek that mum and dad were talking about in connection with fixing the television, radiogram and anything else electrical we’ve got in the house. He was useful to know.

I am sorry darling, maybe the last page or two were unnecessary. I seem to be in a ‘rubbing in the old boyfriends’ mood.  I didn’t intend to make you jealous, if I have, you’ve got nothing or no one to be jealous about.  I love you and only you.  You really are a darling.

I think maybe I had better finish now.  Mum and dad are likely to wake up and start yelling at me any moment now, (it’s 12.20 am) and counting the dog-ends in the ashtray I’ve been sitting here long enough.

I’ll see what I can do about sending you some more photos.  But unless the weather gets any warmer I’m blowed if I’m gonna go out into the garden in my cheong-sam.  Still, miracles have happened.

This the first page of the third writing pad I’ve used since I’ve been writing to you.

I can play Pontoon better than gin rummy, by the way.

Lots of love


Letters from Maureen Week 5: 8th - 12th February 1961

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