25 December, 1942

Christmas night   

11 p.m.

My Own Darling,

Despite the fact that I’ve been surrounded by people all day, I’ve felt rather lonely to-day, lonely for you and for home.  I suppose its a feeling everyone gets on Christmas Day.  I’ve just been wondering what you are doing.  Did you get anyone to relieve you to go to your dance?

A week tonight at this time we shall be together, Darling, together for another five days of heaven.  No doubt they will fly past, but we can trust each other to make the best of them can’t we.  I keep wishing the week would fly past, but instead it just seems to crawl along at an indescribable rate.  Ah me!  What it is to be impatient.

I feel tired tonight.  I got up at 6.30 this morning & helped to take coffee & rum round to the men in bed.  Then I worked in the cookhouse all the morning & helped to serve the dinner.

We had a super dinner.  The conventional type you know, turkey, pork, apple sauce, stuffing, roast spuds & then pudding & rum sauce.  I wondered what sort of a dinner they were giving you at G.H.N. whilst I was eating mine.  Did you fare well or badly?

I wondered what on earth you were going to “confess” Darling in your last letter.  Of course I don’t mind Kit coming along.  I do mind really (but only in a nice sort of way!) I shall have to share my dances - & you & where you are concerned Angel, I am very greedy!  She will have to come up to No. 19 to tea or supper while she is at Grimethorpe.

I suppose that your father will manage some mode of conveyance back from this dance.  Remember what a grousing nuisance I was the last time we walked from that area?

Well, my Dear, four or five sergeants have just come in from a dance & want me to have a drink with them, so I shall have to stop writing now. 

I’ll write again at the weekend.  All my love, Darling.  Stan  xxxx

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