Sunday, 18 April, 1943

Usual address

18 April 1943​​​​​​​​​​​                                      14

My Own Darling,

I am on top of the world today, for guess what happened last night!  I got two letters from you. One that I had given up all hope of getting was No. 8 (one you wrote on my birthday and posted by ordinary mail) and No. 14, an air letter actually posted on the 11th.  Not bad going, eh?

I must confess I didn’t like the bit of news about the re-registering, but I suppose it is no good worrying we shall just have to take things as they come.  I think actually I would rather you underwent the horrors of a midwifery course  than that you are pushed into the QAIMNS as soon as you qualify, but I know that at the bottom of you you are really acing to get some of this so-called excitement out of life.  Believe me, however, when I tell you that there is nothing exciting in war.  If you don’t believe me ask your brother when you see him (I hope that by now he has arrived in England).  Still, you know my views on the women’s services, don’t you, so I won’t say any more! ! !  How’s the swotting going, by the way?  Got lots of confidence?  You know all the threats I made if you don’t get through!

Another thing that is worrying me is that you are taking too much note of all the things I am learning to do out here.  I can see myself being set on to do the washing, wall-papering cleaning-up etc when I get back.  In fact I look like becoming the general fatigue man for the future Mrs Bristow, unless I am very strong willed!  And you know that I am not where you are concerned, my Dear.  Still it always has been and always will be a pleasure to do things for you (Gosh.  I have committed myself now haven’t I?)

Glad to hear that the sewing is coming on and progress is being made in that direction.  Why you always keep the things you are making a secret from me I don’t understand – or is it that you don’t want the Censor to read what you are making?

Some poet or other certainly knew his onions when he wrote “Oh to be in England now that April’s there” I certainly wish I could be there to go all these lovely walks with you, that you write about.  I imagine I feel a bit like Rupert Brooke to-night when he wrote “My God!  I will pack my bags and get me to England once again, for England’s the one place I know where men with honest hearts may go!”  I suppose that the combination of being out in the desert for a couple of months, coupled with the fact that you are waiting for me back in England, makes one feel that way.

You know, if you were out here with me, there would be something to say for this life, for out here there are no neighbours to look out of the windows as you pass and then spend the rest of the day gossiping about the fact.  Out here one could do just as one wished (not that we do otherwise when we are together) without anyone knowing.

I had a bit of a shock last night!  I was walking through our Camp when I came across a military band, complete with swaggering drum-major, white pipe-clayed belts and music cases, etc.  I thought I was seeing a mirage at first, but it proved to be a real band!  It seemed funny coming across such a thing in the wilds of Nth Africa.  Unofficially someone said they were practicing for our triumphant entry into Tunis, but I should take that with a pinch of salt!!  It was quite a thrill to hear their music, however.

Yes, I always think of you around bedtime.  It is a pity that there is not such a thing as telepathy over such a distance that separates us, isn’t it?  I always feel very near to you in my thoughts at nighttime, however.  It is not possible to describe all the things I think of and plan, but I suppose you have got a good idea in what sort of vein they run, haven’t you? 

Well, Darling, I am coming to the end of yet another letter, but there is still room to tell you the oft repeated news that my love for you grows stronger (if that is possible) with every day that we are apart.  I know you will never become tired of hearing that, just as I never tire of reading how much you are missing me.  On the contrary it gives me a fresh thrill each time I read it.

My best wishes to all at 56, by the way, and my love to you, Darling.  Stan xxx 

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