I’ve got a lovely cigarette burn on my hand. Quite like old times. Well, seven months old times. I was talking (and according to dad I’d be dumb if I didn’t have any hands) and I sorta stabbed myself. Boy, did I yell. They thought a bomb had dropped on the office.
Read more 21st July 1961
D’you know something? I’ve come to the conclusion that I rather like you.
I feel happy. Don’t know why. The days are beginning to whizz by like anything. Five weeks Friday! I think that sounds better than 37 days, don’t you?
I’ve just written to Lena and made the final, final arrangements (and I’ve not seeing double I really do mean that twice). I’m meeting her either outside Customs or by the information desk. I sound pretty knowledgeable in my letter.
Read more 18th July 1961
Outside the wind is howling fit to bust and the rain is pouring down and it’s absolutely freezing. It’s just like a January evening and to prove it you ought to see the fire dad’s built up. It’s making me feel luverly and cosy. I told them I didn’t mind staying up for a while to make sure it burnt down alright. They didn’t think much of my suggestion though. Can’t think why.
Read more 14th July 1961
I’m afraid I am feeling terribly lonely and unwanted and really frustrated. This staying in nonsense is driving me round the bend. Goodness knows what sort of state I’d have been in if I’d have stayed in for the whole seven months.
I’ve decided, you’ll probably get an awful shock when you come home. I reckon I’ve changed a lot since January.
Read more 10th July 1961
Decided to make this a diary type letter because I only wrote Monday evening and it is too soon to send another letter. I just feel in the mood to write to you.
I’m absolutely dead tired but I daren’t risk going to bed yet. Time is precisely – she turns her head and consults clock – 11.27 pm and about 10.30 yours truly decided she felt a bit peckish and cooked herself her special spaghetti dish. Boy, am I regretting it now. My stomach thinks it’s enjoying a trip on the scenic railway. Or maybe ‘enjoying’ isn’t the right word.
Read more 5th July 1961
Michael and I went to that Midsummer Dance on the 25th. It was good. everyone was pretty merry and didn’t seem to mind what they did. Which is quite unusual for that place. We were sitting on a table with three middle aged couples. And half way through the evening one of the men was giving us a lecture on how he always stuck up for the younger generation because they weren’t as black as they were painted. It was quite, quite charming. They had the usual balloons and streamers there but they also had loads confetti which I’ve never seen at a dance before. We went home smothered in it and I wondered why we were getting funny looks from the few people that were about when we came home.
Read more 3rd July 1961
Sorry it has been such a long time since you got a letter. I’ll explain all the pros and cons later on. All in all I have been having quite a time to tell you about.
Thanks for your letter (no36). You don’t half sound energetic matey. Makes me feel quite exhausted reading about the tennis and the cricket and the squash and the swimming. Now there’s li’l ole me who doesn’t walk anywhere when there is a bus route or a car around. And nowadays the nearest I get to tennis is watching it. ‘Especially over these last two weeks.
Read more 3rd July 1961