Darling Honks
Muv writes saying one can write to you at last, oh I do so long to see your cell. I haven’t seen you or your pigs for such ages that I’ve almost forgotten what you look like what with one thing and another.
I’ve been here for three weeks with Farve & it’s terribly gloomy because it never stops raining so the result is that Lilah McCalmont1 who has come to stay, & I never stop cooking for one minute, we stiffly whip all day. I have made a wonderful improvement on Béarnaise by putting equal amounts of wine, lemon juice & vinegar. I hear you cook like a mad thing too, I do hope you are given eatable ingredients. As for poor Sir O, is he allowed to? I suppose not, horrors, what would Pat2 say.
I suppose it isn’t any good me coming to see you because you can see your pigs nearly always can’t you, or anyhow old women who can tell you about them.
We’re coming back next week & I suppose I shall have to work in London, I can’t live at Swinbrook it’s too tricky, so if ever you were short of a visitor I would come hurrying to Holloway, hurrying to Hollo-way.
I can’t think of anything fascinating, nothing much occurs here. Farve is either in fits of gloom or terrific spirits, apparently for no reason. I hope he won’t live here alone in the winter because gloom is usually the form & what it must be like here then I can’t imagine. Lividry sets in when my goat eats his creepers etc exactly like it always did, he is an eccentric old fellow.
When we were climbing around the caves here the other day I heard the most terrifying sound just like a hermit tearing calico, it so horrified me that we haven’t been round there since. It has become the stock joke & thing to be frightened of, oh the horror.
I wonder what Muv’s form is now, I mean whether she’s in a good temper or not. Her favourite thing is going to see you, she always writes ‘I’m going to see D’, or ‘I’ve just been to see D’ usually from the tea room at Paddington. She will be the death of me.
Much love. I would adore to come & see you if
you thought it a good idea from Debo
Darling Pam
I am asking permission to send you this letter instead of the visit – I did not send a pass because there have been so many air raid warnings and I thought it would be so awful if you came all the way here and then there was a warning and you could not see me after all. I am sending you a pass in this letter; but please don’t come unless you more or less must come to London – don’t come on my account because I know it must be such a trouble. Will you thank Muv millions of times for her visit and for bringing Jonathan with her, I did love seeing him, it has made such a difference. How I wish Desmond could come, but I suppose he is not strong enough yet.1 Please thank Nanny for her sweet letter; Kit always asks all details about Stodge and Weedom2 and we both long to see them, do ask her to write again soon, and do tell Miss Gillies she can write to me now (’tho I can’t reply) about Desmond. Will you ask Muv to send £1 to Desmond from me for his birthday; I am also getting Harrods to send him a few little things.
Now darling I wonder if you can possibly imagine how grateful I am to you for all you are doing for the babies, I feel so overwhelmed by all your wonderful kindness. I do long to see you all so much, and the sweet little foals. The vegetables from last week are still lasting, they are heaven. I made saucisses au vin blanc today for tea. Do send some more lovely DILL, Enid3 & I adore it. I am very well, only wish we were out more in this divine weather, we are only let out 8.30–9.30 and 6.30–7.30 – early and late. Heavens what a lot there will be to tell when I get out – there is very little one can put in a letter. It is rather cold and chilly in the prison and one longs for more sun. Tell Nanny to get any clothes she needs for Alexander and Max before the purchase tax is imposed. Also, if she sends me wool and pattern, I would knit anything – for instance, knickers to go over Max’s nappies (!) Have you seen the dress I knitted for myself? Would you like me to make you one? Do write soon – every detail enchants me.
All love darling & so many thanks from Nard
Kisses to Alexander & Max.
Darling Nardy
I hope no bombs have dropped on the Prison yet. Max & Alexander are very well, except that Max has rather taken to not sleeping much in the day time. Nanny thinks he may be getting some teeth. He is now having milk from an Ayrshire herd in the village which is not only T[uberculin] T[ested] but also Attested which is the very best that it could be. The other day I was out blackberry-ing with Alexander in his push chair & the most peculiar looking Aircraft came over which looked just like a huge toy one, it was so old fashioned. It was very low & at first I thought I saw figures standing between the double wings & holding on to the wires in readiness to jump off. When it arrived closer I could see that there were no figures & that it was English. It made a wonderful Nanny tease & I told her that I put Alexander well out in the open so that he could be plainly seen in his white coat & that I rushed into the hedge & hid! Nanny has to be teased a good deal, she enjoys it. Of course the darling dogs are a very good teasing subject, she thinks I take far too much notice of them & not nearly enough of her babies. She always comes into the library with me after dinner to hear the news & do some knitting. Alexander is to have a scarlet woolly coat made. His blue one looks lovely & I do hope you are not too cold; we can send you some warmer things if you want them.
In haste to get to Banbury & catch the post.
Love from Woman
Darling Honks
We are going to Woman’s next week, my wonderful plan of Birdie going away for two weeks has fallen sadly through because Muv & I have got to go instead. It is awful because she so hates me that life here has become almost impossible. The sitting room is so small & two enormous tables in it belong exclusively to her & if one so much as puts some knitting down on one for a moment chaos reigns because she hies up & shrieks ‘bloody fool’ very loud. I think in some ways she’s better though but she seems to have completely lost her sense of humour & never roars at the funniest thing.
Muv seems always to be in rather a way about me, doing things she doesn’t allow, really I should have thought what with one thing & another there isn’t much point in being seen to as though one was three.
Isn’t it killing about the Jews in Rutland Gate.1
Farve has gone to Southend & taken Margaret the-maid-who-has-a-young-man-who-took-her-to-Ascot-in-a-Rolls-Royce.2 I expect he will have a gay time.
I had lunch with the Wid the other day. She was alone because the Baileys had gone to lunch with the Dulvertons who hadn’t asked the Wid – none of the neighbours do! Mrs McCalmont told me she was very surprised when shopping one morning in Stow she saw an Egyptian figure approach dressed in a cape & turban & said ‘Tell me, what do you think of Dakar?’3 The Baileys have got printed notices