12th February 1961

February 12th 1961

Sunday

Darling Alan,

I honestly can’t think of anything interesting to write about.  It’s always the same.  Wednesday, when I didn’t have much time there was loads to tell you.  Now I’ve got all evening I’m stuck.

Depressing thought for you: there are one hundred and ninety three days to get through before we see each other again.  Isn’t it awful?

I tried that little tip you gave me about putting a card down that you want (I’m talking about gin rummy again, by the way) but every time I did it they were picked up.  What do I do then?  I think I had better stick to snap.

Jennifer bought a record yesterday by that Elvis drip. Y’know, ‘Are you Lonesome Tonight?’ and boy, am I!

Everyone’s gone out again tonight, so there is an empty house available again.  It’s giving me the jitters though.  I keep hearing funny noises that are making me jump out of my skin.  So, at the moment all the lights are on.  Daft, I know but it eases my peace of mind.

I spent some of this afternoon typing envelopes for the Valentine cards my dad’s daft friends are sending.  Then tomorrow I’ve got to take them to work with me and post them up there so they get a London postmark.  I did wonder whether or not to send you a Valentine but I decided to wait ‘til next year, when you won’t have any mickey-taking mates around.

This is terrible, don’t know what else to write!!  Wait a minute, inspiration!

I belong to the Bank Library (commonly known as The Bank of England Library and Literary Association).  It’s alright having the books to read, but it’s a flipping nuisance having to walk miles to the basement of head office to change them.  I got a charming little letter Thursday.  They said, in so many words, that they want them back.  I don’t know why, I mean, I only went on the 11th November.  What was so funny was that Jennifer got a letter from her library Friday morning.  Being late seems to run in the family.

Jennifer had two of her school friends here yesterday afternoon.  The so-and-so played her usual trick again and she left them here with me, and I’m blowed if I know what to say to 12-year olds.  All we can get out of Jennifer in that in two weeks’ time it will be all over.  She’s talking about being a bridesmaid at my friend’s wedding.  She’ll probably go mad when she finds out we’re going to supply her with another one.

My mother and aunt were having another bash at me Saturday afternoon.  We were talking about parties and I said I couldn’t afford the one I was going to have on my birthday.  Mum said, never mind, you can have one at Christmas.  Then my eagle-eyed aunt remarked that she wouldn’t mind betting it would be an engagement party.  They’ve even got the time right now and I wanted to surprise everybody.

Didn’t you say you wanted a quiet wedding?  I think you’ve had it, mate. – that expression borrowed from you.  There are 46 at least to come to the reception on my side.  I think someone is gonna have to break into my place of employment to (dig that) pay for it all.

Have you started to learn to drive yet?  And do you still intend to get a car when you come home?  I wish you were home now.  I’m getting fed up with staying in all the time, yet I don’t really want to go out.  There’s not much point when I can’t go out with you.  I can’t imagine me married.  It’s never seemed possible somehow.  I don’t think I’ve really got used to the idea yet.

I’m in two minds whether I want tomorrow morning to come or not.  I’m in a hell of a mess with my work.  I spent most of Friday walking around the different offices looking for something.  Each office said somewhere else had got it, so I just don’t know what to do.  Still, there’s always your letter that is due tomorrow, to cheer me up during the day.

Well, I’ve reached 8 pages so l think I can finish with a clear conscience now.  I love you more every day Alan.  I’ve never thought it possible that I could miss anyone so much.

From your

Maureen

By the way, I showed that photo of you on skis to my aunt and she said you’ve got the skis on the wrong feet!

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

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: