28th May 1961

May 28th 1961


My dear Alan,

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..Thought I’ve better wait a few lines so you don’t miss anything while getting over the initial shock!

Now, down to business type things.  Instructions required for sweater, one, type? size ? colour?   That is, of course, if you still want one. I thought if I started it now and if your stars are in a favourable position, I may have it ready for you by that day, August 25th.  Do you realise – that’s a daft question, you must do – that there are eighty-eight days left at the time of writing.  And I haven’t just worked that out, I’m still crossing them off.

I’m blowed if I’m gonna spoil my reputation and send a one page letter, so be prepared to be caught up with the news.  (Does that make sense?  Probably not, but do I ever?  I can supply my own answer to that so don’t worry yourself.)

Item 1: Lena.  She is landing at Gatwick Airport, 1800 hours August 4th and leaving August 29th.  if I can get my half day Aug 4th I’m laughing, but if I can’t, well – as they say into the darkroom and see what develops.

I wish you would hurry up and come home.  I’m smoking far too much, I’m reaching 20 a day now and I just can’t afford it.

Lena: I saw Jean coming home tonight.  She is leaving her job in 2 weeks and she doesn’t reckon she’ll be coming away with us.  That girl annoys me.  The times she has changed her mind is nobody’s business.  Anyway, Wednesday (pay-day) I’m going to see about booking coach seats.  I’d much rather travel down by coach but Jean gets travel sickness.  If she changes her mind again, she’s had it.



One morning last week I had a shock that put me off my stroke all day.  An airman got on the train with his girlfriend.  The poor thing was all rigged out in uniform and obviously going back from leave.  It was rotten.  I felt like crying – not for him, for me.

I am absolutely fed up with everything and everyone.  No one seems to be able to hold a conversation with me without letting me know how rotten I am.  I don’t really want to tell you, but I suppose you’ll want to know what’s happening. I’m still going out with Michael.  From information via Clive and Carol, Michael is, well, ‘getting involved.’  I’ve heard, by going out with him for two months I’ve broken his record.  Sometimes I am not very nice to him.

Tonight I was supposed to be at his house at 6.30.  I got there at 7.45.  What happened?  He sulked and said ‘well, I suppose it’s up to you what time you come.’

Recently all the office has taken an interest is my affairs. – no, I don’t mean affairs, just affairs, savez?  When I told them I wasn’t writing to you any longer, just seeing you in August I got lectures from all sides on how you were out there, all alone and needed some comfort, and how I was sending you straight into the arms of a Greek girl.  Everyone’s dead against Michael but as they have met neither of you I think H.M.Forces has got a great deal to do with it.

It’s funny, I still haven’t got used to not getting letters.  I look for one every morning.  It’s awful when I realise there won’t be one there.  I have to amuse myself by reading the old ones over and over again.

At last I have been to see South Pacific.  It was a sort of birthday outing from Michael.  It was a dreamy film, left me in a daze for days after.


I had a great surprise at work today.  By the way, it is Monday 29th now.  We’ve been working until 4.30 every day for ages and boy, have we been complaining because there has been hardly any work.  Well, today we were told we can have a round of ‘offs’.  That is, a half-day.  I’d still rather work until 4 but I suppose I can’t complain.

You know I usually – or rather, used to – write to you when everyone was in bed, but the house is in such bedlam at the moment (5.30 approx) that I’ve locked myself in my bedroom out of it all.

It all started before I got in.  Jennifer was running down the road on her way home from school – goodness knows why – and lost her pen out of her pocket.  Mum kept moaning about how she hoped Jennifer didn’t expect her to find the money for a new one etc.  She did in the end but she got annoyed because Jennifer wouldn’t go back and look for it.

Then I came in and said I didn’t want any tea because I wasn’t hungry.  I won’t repeat what was said then cos tea was already cooked.

I felt really proud of myself at work today.  I told Pat that I had started a letter to you.  I’m not kidding you, she almost started to cry, she was so pleased.  Funny some people.

Talking about crying, Alan dear.  You are just too sweet.  Your last letter was….well, it was.  It made me feel really mean.  You are definitely too nice for me.

I’ve only got four sheets of paper left so there is no chance of breaking any records

You ought to see the ‘thing’ I’ve knitted for myself.  ‘Thing’ is the only word for it.  I thought that if I knitted a jacket it would be cheaper than buying one.  That theory fell through in the end.  This jacket is, rather big!  if it was about 3 inches longer it would keep my knees warm.  It’s a beatnik-type thing.  I wore it with my slacks on Whit Monday and it attracted more (but not the same type of) looks than my cheong-sam.  I’ve got some photos – if they come out – and if you want, I’ll send you some.

You know I told you there was a ‘Bristol’ advert being made outside New Change?  Well, it is on tele now.  And it was obviously made for our building.  There is a marvellous picture of the curved front.  I’m very proud of that curved front. Of the building of course.

Great discussion at the moment.  What colours to decorate my and Jen’s bedroom.  I don’t particularly care as she will be in it much longer than me (Yes!!) but everyone seems to want my opinions.  Trouble is, every time they ask me I forget what I’ve said before, so nobody – including me, knows what I want.  Jen seems to fancy grey and pink so I suppose that’s what we’ll have in the end.

I can’t think of much else to write about Alan dear.  It’s very hard to know how to end this letter.  I know I haven’t treated you very well.  But believe me, I think about you an awful lot.  It surprised me rather that when Michael went on holiday for a week I wasn’t at all bothered and thought of you more than him.

I can see I am going to be up early every morning next week looking for a letter from you.  You mentioned once about now there was only Easter, then Whitsun, then August Bank Holiday to go before you came home.  Now it is only August.  12 weeks plus.

Lots of love to you



I seem to remember something about you having some ‘crazy’ photos taken.  Any spare?

Letters from Maureen Week 21: 28th May - 4th June 1961

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