Tuesday, 4 May, 1943

Usual address                                                                                         (20)

Tuesday, May 4^th 1943

My Own Darling,

The wireless is playing a dreamy sentimental tune (just the sort you and I like) and I have just been making a beast of myself by eating all my week’s chocolate ration without stopping. (it’s O.K. it is only one bar! !) so I am feeling in a particularly pleasant mood, and feel that this is just the right time to write a few thoughts on paper to you.

It’s about a fortnight now since I heard from you, so that I am daily looking for a letter with the Nottingham postmark on it.  The mail seems to have been delayed somewhat during the past few days, but I don’t suppose we should grumble, if it is giving way to more important things (although we all feel here that mail – especially one’s own – is the most important thing in life).

Well, Darling, we are still battling on out here, as you will no doubt have heard from the wireless, and I don’t think it will be very much longer now before the last vestiges on Musso’s African Empire have gone up in smoke.  That will be all to the good for we will all feel that we can then settle down to the more serious job of getting Hitler in a similar position to that in which his crony Musso finds himself at the moment.  Of course, my Dear, the driving force behind all this is the thought that when we have got it all off our chests we shall be able to come home once again take up the threads of a civilised life once more.  We were saying in the office to-day; another few years of this life we are leading now and we should come home and each morning go out into the garden to shave out of an empty tobacco tin etc etc!  I don’t think those sort of habits will grow on me, however.

We have at last got our Khaki Drill uniforms, and of course the first day we put them on had to be the coldest day we have had for a long time, and consequently we went from the sublime to the ridiculous and sat around and shivered instead of sweated.  The past few days in our battle dress were simply terrific.  I just sat in my office and sweated.  It was funny to see us sitting there almost gasping, whilst some French Colonial troops in a camp across the road walked about muffled up in top coats, complaining of the cold!  There were quite a few men envied them I might add.  I had a bit of a job with my shorts, too.  When I first put them on they were a sort of hybrid; they could have been taken for either short “longuns” or long “shortuns”.  However, I knocked them into shape by turning the bottoms up six inches!  A masterpiece of tailoring it was too!  It surpassed description, as did my language during the two hours sewing! It was worth it, however, if only for the coolness.  It is funny washing one’s knees before going to bed – quite reminiscent of schooldays.

Apart from Army matters nothing of note has occurred since I last wrote to you.  When we came to our present camp I found a tortoise and we decided to adopt it, but it had different ideas on the subject and absconded during the first night of its adoption!  The present camp is quite nice apart from the fact that there are literally thousands of snails and almost as many grasshoppers about.  They seem to get everywhere.

But enough of myself!  Have you got re-habilitated in Nottingham?  The noise of all the traffic didn’t frighten you after being out in the country so long did it?  What sort of flicks have you seen lately.  It seems years since I saw the inside of a cinema (actually it is 2 months to-morrow since we arrived in Nth Africa, but it seems like years).  I suppose you will have finished your lectures now and just be doing private “swotting” (if at all).  What sort of progress do you think you are making?

When do you start your holidays?  Have you decided on Wales or Scotland?  Personally I think the latter place more interesting, but it would be nice to spend a holiday with Kit I suppose.  I am glad to hear that she is still keeping you out of mischief, but knowing you I don’t suppose her job is very difficult.  Remember me to her, Darling, will you? 

Well, only a few more lines left.  Gives me the same feeling as I used to have on those early mornings when you used to look at the clock and say “Only a few more minutes, Darling” – and then a bit later kick me out into the cold streets.  Still, after the war, there’ll be no need I hope for you to kick me out in the early morning – or at all.  All my love, Angel.  I am missing you more and more as each day rolls by.

Yours, Stan  xxxxxxxx