28th February 1961

February 28th 1961



I’ve had a screaming row with my mother and I’m still raging so beware I may let of steam with you. It’s just because I told her we are having 12 people round Saturday evening.  And that is not as unreasonable as it sounds because I have worked it all out and it won’t disturb her at all.

Trouble with her is that she makes too much fuss when she knows anyone is coming here.  When I had a party Christmas before last she had the carpets up washing the floors over a fortnight before.  Then did it again the night before.  I wouldn’t mind, she does it while I’m at work and I get told off for not helping her.

The first excuse about Saturday was that she’s not having a crowd in here to wreck her furniture.  So, when I said, all sarcastic-like I’d tell them to leave their axes at home, she started on about the girl next door and the noise.  This bod next door is expecting a baby any minute and I got a long lecture about milk-fever, which sounds quite charming!

I need you to know I am the ‘wicked bitch’ you intend to marry.  Writing does a lot I think.  As well as recalling the good things, it helps soothe away the bad.

Did I tell you I started writing a book last summer?  I packed it in when the cold weather came though as I couldn’t do it with people sitting around and it was cold in my bedroom.  (y’see I didn’t have you to keep me warm).  I first got the idea when I read ‘Room at the Top’.  I thought that if such a badly written book could become a best seller, then I could at least get one published.  I got a good idea for a story.  That is, I got a perfect ending, it’s just filling in the beginning and middle that’s worrying me.  Still, after meeting a certain person who shall remain nameless I think maybe I am now better qualified.

In answer to your question of ages ago: I haven’t seen the film ‘Room at the Top’, just read the book.  I prefer books they leave more to the imagination and what an imagination I’ve got.

I must tell you some juicy bits about Saturday.  Guess what, Alan! I’ve made a conquest!  I’m going to tell you all about it, compliments and all.  I don’t care if you think your future wife is a big ‘ead.  It’s best to realise the truth before you let yourself in for anything too final.  Actually I think it’s killing.  I haven’t got over it yet.  I mean, I didn’t even try!

I told you I had to phone about the arrangements for Saturday (consult previous letter).  Incidentally those arrangements have fallen through.  I lost the great battle.  The point was numbers just grew and grew and it got ridiculous.

Back to the juicy bits again.  I phoned Jean today.  She went to the Tottenham Royal with Stan last night and all the others were up there.  She starts off with, ‘Blimey Maur, Graham ain’t half struck!  I wondered what on earth she was talking about until she told me I was his number one topic of conversation all yesterday evening.  He gave her his phone number to give to me.  And she stressed the point a great deal that I needn’t phone him unless I wanted to.  Then he adds ‘when do you think she’ll phone?’

Now, I must tell you this bit.  On the way home Jean remarked to Stan that Graham had got it bad and Stan answered that I am a very attractive girl!  Rather a pleasing compliment even if it was second hand.  I think I’ll put my name down for the next Miss England contest.

I seem to have missed the point of this story somewhere.  I’ve been rambling on for (p)ages and (p)ages – that’s rather good, no?  Still, after fifteen pages from you who can blame me.  That is an all time record, isn’t it?  I’ll have to see what I can do about that.  We’ll be sending books to each other by the time you get home.  Talking about books, did you get it?  not quite what you expected eh?  But still, it’s a laugh.

To resume…  I phoned Graham.  I um-ed and ah-ed over the suggestion of meeting and when encouraged to speak my mind I just said, ‘Alan.’ And he said ‘oh, like that, is it?’  After a bit more um-ing and ah-ing I said it was alright with me so long as I didn’t forget Alan and he didn’t forget Alan.  He said, ‘If that is the way the land lies, fair enough,’

I’m still waiting.  All the phone numbers I’ve been collecting lately and I still prefer 4244513.  Phone or not.

What I’m getting to and you must have guessed I was getting to something, is that I half expect another offer of a date (I had the first offer last Saturday) would you mind if I accepted?  Y’see, I’ll tell him that I’ve written to you about it.  If the offer still stands after waiting for an answer (and if it does he must be nuts to stand for that) all well and good, as he understands the position.  If not, all the better, everyone is happy.  And all I’ve lost is a couple of free evenings out.

Isn’t this a rotten letter.  I can’t make up my mind whether it’s showing me in my true light or not.  But I just want you to know that I love you darling and could never treat you in any way but what you deserve.  As far as you are concerned I’m out to gain nothing but my own happiness.  That is very badly put but you do know what I mean, don’t you?

Let me know what you think of all this.  Do you think I am messing around a bit too much and should forget the whole thing?

I have been told at work that I must be a member of the ‘Raving Nits Society for the Promotion of Lunacy amongst Bank Clerks.’  Nice friends, I’ve got.

Your nephews sound darlings.  I’d love to meet them.

Oh yes, thanks for the 1/- I’ll buy you a birthday card with it.  I’m more generous than you. (9d indeed.)

I’d better pack up, it’s getting late again.  Still, I don’t think I’ll get any yells from upstairs tonight.  She’s just not talking to me.

I’m going dancing with Carol on Friday.  I like going dancing with Carol, remember what happened last time?  She informed me tonight that she is trying to fix me up with her boyfriend’s brother.  Sounds interesting.  Wish she’d tell me first though.

About 178 more days to go.  I’m getting fed up with everything.  I wish it was this time next year.

What sort of stones do you like?  (Not pebbles) I’m thinking about an engagement ring and next Christmas.  It’s better to think of it like that.  It gets a bit hard to stand when you realise last Christmas was only two months ago.

Really must finish now,

Lots and lots and lots of love,


Letters from Maureen Week 8: 26th - 28th February 1961

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