9th March 1961

March 9th 1961

Thursday

Darling Alan,

I’ve got exactly twelve pages left in the pad, well, eleven now, minus of course two lines.  So I can’t get carried away and write a book like the last one. I’ve got a list of things here to tell you about but I’ve got a funny (peculiar, not ha ha,) feeling that I’ve mentioned some of them before, so you have been warned.

The girl next door had her baby this morning.  You ought to have seen mum telling me about it.  Anyone would have thought Mum had had the baby she was so thrilled.  I can see what’s going to happen now. ‘turn down the radiogram Maureen, you’ll wake up the baby.’  He’ll grow up to either appreciate or detest Chris Barber.

Hey Alan!  You’ll never guess.  I beat dad at gin rummy last night. 1033 to 670.  Aren’t you proud of me? I don’t think I will bother to do it again though cos he turned a bit funny last night – probably the after effects.  He took it into his head that I was going to bed too late and demanded that I be upstairs by 11.30 at the latest. He said if I wasn’t he would turn of the lights at the mains.  It makes me die when dad gets all serious-like and I just have to laugh. He almost apologised. He said, ‘well, if you won’t look after yourself, someone has got to do it for you, even though it might seem a bit mean.’

We didn’t have anything to do in the lunch hour yesterday so at special request I read out your letter.  That is, I read out some of your letter. They were getting very niggled and said they wanted it all, not just the censored bits.  I don’t think they appreciated your descriptions of Brixham and Devon dear.

It was funny Tuesday morning – or was it Monday and I’ve already told you? I was waiting on the platform (station platform that is) with (for a train) with Jennifer and her friend and my shoes were killing me. So I asked Jennifer to get me a seat, which request she duly passed on to said friend.  The train was fairly crowded but as soon as the doors opened this Gillian dashed on, with Jennifer in hot pursuit. By the time I’d leisurely strolled on, they were both guarding this said, much needed, seat, seemingly with their lives.  All I had to do was return the many filthy looks I got and sit down. Very handy travelling companions those two.

I’m working this Saturday, worse luck.  Still, if I wasn’t in work I’d be in bed, so it doesn’t make much difference.  Except of course, the getting up part.

Y’know my grandmother fell and broke her hip and was in hospital for eight weeks?  After the first week or two at home she started walking again, very slowly but at least she walked.  Last Thursday she fell over again and now she has splintered a bone in her knee. The doctors said her last operation was such a serious one that they won’t risk again.  They say she is not to attempt to walk ever. So now she’s stuck in a wheelchair. My aunt hasn’t any spare rooms downstairs that they can make into a bedroom for her so she and my uncle have to carry her up and down the stairs.  I’m getting an awful guilty conscience cos I haven’t seen her since she came out of hospital. I used to pop in on my way home from work – they live opposite Upney Station – but we are so busy now, that we are 4.30 every night and that always coincides with their tea-time.  (excuses I know, but jolly good one.)

Still, I’ll have to take her out in the wheelchair during the summer otherwise she’ll be stuck indoors most of the time.  Good, practice for pushing a pram, don’t you think?

Be a darling and settle a difference.  Is Akrotiri a town or just the name of the base?

I was supposed to phone Jean on Monday about making arrangements for going out Monday night.  I didn’t remember til 8 o’clock. I don’t know if she’s taken offence cos she usually comes round at least one night a week but I haven’t seen her since last Friday.  I don’t get much chance to slip out of the office and make phone calls while I’m under the Lady’s eagle eye. (there I go, excuses again.) I was given the glad news yesterday that I’m in her section next week as well, which is quite charming.  Still, she hasn’t been too bad since I answered her back yesterday. Honestly, she makes my stomach turn over.

Good news for you my darling, apparently Graham wasn’t quite ‘struck’ enough.  (I’ll send him a couple of EvoStick.) because when I told him about writing to you he almost dropped the receiver in shock.  As far as I know, Jean is still going out with Stan and I get reports on the gang from time to time. I don’t know how she can go out with him.  Still, quote: it takes all sorts. (Wonder if they mean liquorish ones)

Asked Dad to teach me whist last night – as per your orders. We had a couple of hands at German Whist but I gave it up as a bad job.  I’ve got a memory like a, well I don’t know what it’s like but it’s not very good. So, Alan dear it seems like it’s either gin rummy or that for those winter evenings – actually you said long winter nights but that doesn’t leave much choice, does it?  I mean, who wants to play gin rummy at night, if you get my meaning and knowing my darling Alan he obviously will, get my meaning.

I’ve got to write another page cos it seems a bit daft leaving one sheet in the pad.  This is four writing pads I have used up. Jolly good going eh?

Y’know that bit about them all being peasants and the fans hanging around etc. etc and you ended ‘your turn’.  Well, I pass. I’ve been trying to think of a suitable answer for two days, so I’ll just have to give that one to you.

There are one hundred and sixty- eight days left.  Which is twenty-four weeks. You can work out the hours.  My GCE studies didn’t go that far. But I’ve got a better way of looking at it.  There are only four clear months left. Sounds ever so near like that doesn’t it?  Oh Alan, it’s shocking thinking about it? Sometimes I get so I wish we hadn’t met when we did.  Still, as you said, it is a test and will count for a lot this time next year. They say, patience is a virtue don’t they?  And oh! I am so virtuous as you may have realised. I love you Alan dear.

From your long suffering, ever loving,

Maureen

Letters from Maureen Week 10: 9th - 12th March 1961

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