Saturday, 7 November, 1942

G. H. N.

Saturday, 11.30 p.m.  

My Own Darling,

As I am having to write this in a dim, shaded light with two irrational patients – one either side of me – well – I am afraid that you will have to excuse any errors.

Were you ever taught that “sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?”  I am referring to the first sentence in your last letter, about the short letter which I sent.  I admit – it was short but would you rather have that than none at all?

Did you enjoy the dance and did you get any partners?

I am looking forward to us going to a dance together again but it will have to be one of the “local hops” owing to the buses.  How about going to one at Lundwood?  (My turn to be sarcastic now).  A fortnight to-night Darling and we shall be together again.  Not that I need to remind you.

It does seem to take my letters a long time to reach you.  I wonder how it is?

Tonight I am the extra nurse on.  Up to now I have been having a busy night.  I started off in Casualty Dept.  When we had the patients cleared from there I was sent up here (Div: I) to “lay out” Florence.  Yes, I am afraid that she died at 9 p.m. tonight after all those long weary weeks.

It was then decided that I had better watch these two batty people.  The one on the right of me suddenly sits bolt upright in bed for no apparent reason, so here I am – jumping up to her every few minutes, giving drinks of water to the other one at frequent intervals and trying to write your letter in the meantime.  Ah me!  The trials of a nurse!!

Do you like my note-paper?  I wish these wards would get some decent paper in, but until they do – I just have to put up with this.

Ah it is taking me all my time to see I suppose I had better close.

Until next time then, you have my love Darling.  Grace  xxxx

 

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