1941
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
1st Jan 1941
Dear Parents,
I did not write last week because Aunt wanted to get her letter sent off, and I was feeling very lazy after a dance on Boxing Night. We really had a very gay Christmas week, with three dances, one at Waltham on Christmas Eve, and one at our hall on Saturday. To these two we went with some officers from Waltham, very pleasant, but the one on Boxing day was a private affair at Lyons Hall, given by the officers there. It was to me a great enjoyment to dance in a big panelled room, very nicely decorated, without too many people, and without the clouds of dust and smoke which for me always spoil the village dances, but Peg did not enjoy it at all. The thing was that most of the men had their wives or other partners, with whom they naturally danced most of the time, and so we sat out for a number of dances, which for Peg is of course an unheard-of thing, so she was rather disgruntled. It would have been better if we had gone with a partner apiece, but as I said, I enjoyed it all the same.
Richard was not on leave after all last week, but he might just as well have been, because he turned up on the Saturday I arrived, went back to Greenwich on Sunday evening, came again from Tuesday to Thursday, and again on Saturday, when he was starting his tendays official leave. He looks lovely in his officer’s uniform. One can hardly that this stalwart naval figure, that might have come off a poster, is he.
Christmas day was much nicer than I had expected. We went to church at 8.0, and it was lit as I have always thought it should be, with a very few candles. We had very nice presents, money from most of the uncles and aunts forming the bulk, and pleasant oddments from other people. Romey sent us things made by the Red Indians. I had a brightly striped sash, and folded inside it was a little papoose all done in white kid and orange beads, which I have hung up in the office as a mascot, where it is much admired. I had two scarves a gay one from Aunt, and a soft pale blue one from Betty. Peg and Gavin game me a record token, which I shall spend at oxford, as well as some of my other money, because one can still get a lot of records without the Purchase Tax on them.
The aunts came over for lunch only, which was a very good thing. In the ordinary way Auntie Do always tries to make so much of her pleasures that they become a burden. In the evening we went up to the Hall, Aunt and I to help at the canteen, and the boys and Uncle to be spectators of the troop concert, which was really great fun. Dicky was very pleased at having got the front rows of officers to join in the singing and clapping.
The dance on Saturday finished quite early, at least we had very little of it altogether, because we were so long in the pub before it, and we left to come back to Poops’ corner to have some more drinks to send our guests on their way.
I came back on Sunday, expecting to go on the midnight shift, but there has been some silly muddle, I can’t think why, and I am on four to twelve again, which is all right for me, but not so good for the poor man who has to the night shift, and anyhow I needn’t have come till Monday if I’d known, but it was perhaps just as well, because of the bad raids on Sunday night.
It was nice last night to be staying up till midnight anyway, to see the New Year in. We bought some hock and mince pies to celebrate with, and had a little party at 12.0.
Gwen had a picture paper sent her by a friend in New Zealand, with the most marvellous pictures of scenery. I had not visualised it at all before. We haven’t had any of your letters from there yet, but thought Java sounds a lovely place to live.
I saw Mr Christie for about half an hour in the waiting room at the station. He was on his way from Woburn to oxford, and I was catching a train to London, so we fixed to meet in the buffet. He had a lot of very nice pictures of Peggy in her wedding dress, and told me a lot about her letters. Also he sent his regards to you, and recalled the tea party at the Royal Empire Society.
With much love from
Annette
P.S. I heard from Audrey Hamilton that Jock is slightly wounded in hospital at Cairo, and apparently enjoying himself very much there. She herself is going to do some sort of work for the navy at Greenock.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
7th Jan 1940 (should have been 1941 – LJT has marked it on back as rec’d Jan 12th 41)
Dear Parents,
I will only write a line or so this week because I have done nothing except give myself Russian lessons, and go to work. (I have nearly finished the third lesson. The children are called Lisa, Peter, and Vera, but look the same, and anybody who thinks that baby is eighteen months old is very ignorant. Was it so old in French?)
The only excitement was an unpleasant one. My suitcase sent in advance was brought by a policeman, as it had been broken open on the way, the locks neatly cut round, but as far as I know nothing was missing, there being nothing worth taking, so I didn’t bother to follow the matter up, as the case wasn’t insured, and will only cost a few bob to mend. But this is the reward of virtue; if I had carried the case, and not brought the Linguaphone German for our Mr Millar, I should have saved quite a lot of money. On the other hand I should perhaps have taken a taxi from Liverpool St to Euston so perhaps it equals out.
Much love
from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
Bucks
15 Jan 1941
(pencil note on letter by LJT ‘This letter went to New Zealand – back to England and reached India on 26/9/41.)
Dear Parents,
I was very pleased to get another letter from Java, because the last two were just before Christmas. Aunt also sent me your Christmas present for which very many thanks. I also had a £1 from Uncle Len the other day, for my birthday with many apologies for having forgotten it. I don’t know who told them, but it was very nice of them to bother about it now.
It has only lately dawned on me that Aunt Doris is near Northampton, quite near here on the main line, so we could easily meet. I somehow thought Delapré abbey (which she has now left) was much farther north. I must write and suggest meeting in Northampton next week.
I am thinking of taking up fencing, because there is an expert lady here who is getting up a section for the club. (They seem to be able to produce experts in anything at this place). I did not particularly want to spend 30/- on a padded jacket, though, when I shall probably be bad at it, and would anyhow rather spend the money on a large pair of shoes for walking. I think my feet have grown, because I can’t wear socks inside any of my shoes. But about fencing. Another girl who is doing it seriously and has ordered a jacket, says I can wear it when she doesn’t, and as we are on different shifts, and there are two fencing classes, one in the afternoon and one in the evening, it ought to be all right. Then of course, if I get really keen on it, I can get my own equipment later.
We have had snow and frost all this week. First of all the roads were icy, then slushy, and yesterday they had got back to normal. But quite unexpectedly there was another fall of snow this morning, quite heavy, so it will all start again.
I have now got in the Russian to the conversation of the fourth lesson. The speakers have got much pleasanter voices than the French or German, I think, but perhaps that is a disadvantage, because one tends to be lulled into a stupor.
I have had a curious collection of reading lately, a very interesting but almost morbidly introspective novel by Stefan Zweig, and John Buchan’s autobiography to restore sanity. I was interested to read what he had done to get to know so much. Then I had a book on the American secret service by a bumptious man who was head of it so I suppose he had reason.
With much love from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
21st Jan 1941
Dear Parents,
I observe that I need a new ribbon, at least I have observed it for some time, but it has not got to the pitch that I must really do something about it.
Aunt sent me what i suppose would be your last letters from Java, containing Christmas greetings and so on, for which many thanks. I hope you didn’t mind not getting any from me, but I didn’t feel like it at the time I ought to have been sending them.
It seems to me that the principal concern this week has been the weather. It snowed and then froze and then finally melted. After two days it snowed again, and rained on top of that and then snowed and the rained, and today we end up with a thick fog. Yesterday was the worst, because the slush was inches deep and the rain came steadily down from above. There was to be a First Aid practise at 5.0 and I went home at 4.0 to tell Mrs Evans that I should not be in to have my meal till later than usual, because I had forgotten to do so in the morning. My legs were soaked by the time I got back, and the first aid practice was a farce, only a lot of waffling about things we all knew already, with no practical work, which is what we all wanted, and by the time I stumped home for the second time with the one advantage that my shoes were so wet already that it didn’t matter where I put my feet, I was crosser than I have been for a long time, in spite of telling myself firmly that this was quite unreasonable, considering what so many people have to go through at the moment.
For a day or so the snow was lovely, so crisp that it didn’t crush into slippery ice underfoot, and the sun shone. Mr Crawshaw, in my office, said he met some people going ski-ing. This was on Saturday afternoon, when we were fencing, and we agreed we had rather be ski-ing too, in spite of enjoying ourselves quite a lot as it was. At one time Helen and I used to find Mr. Crawshaw, who is one of those people who tends to talk about his club, and always knew old so-and-so when he was in Milan, or Turin, or Paris, rather a trial, because he expected us to fetch and carry for him, but a persistence in pointing at things when he asked where they were, instead of getting them for him, has broken him in, and the atmosphere is now mostly very pleasant. I don’t think anybody could be annoyed with Helen, but he must have been as cross with me at times as I was with him.
This was my first time at fencing, and I have been stiff in the right thigh ever since, from lunging. I don’t know how I shall get on. At first one feels rather grotesque, it is all so formalised, although the formality is all quite reasonable. Anyhow, it pleases me to know what the terms met in historical romances, and read without understanding, really mean.
I went to the pictures once, and saw a rather bad film, Ronald Colman and Ginger Rogers in ‘Lucky partners’. this week there is Errol Flynn in ‘The Sea hawk’, which I hope will be better. Our dramatic society is giving a show on Sunday, to which we are going in a party from our particular office, because now we are all in separate rooms in the hut, we don’t see very much of each other. I shall be glad of going with somebody I know, in order to be told who’s who in the caste, because I still know so few people by name, and there are a lot of remarkable people here, in spite of mostly looking so funny. I did not notice it really, I suppose because it’s no worse than Oxford, but most people when they first come are positively amazed to see such a queer collection.
I shan’t go and see Doris until the weather is better, but I shall go to Oxford at the end of next week, because I can fit in two nights away after the night shift. I have given up cycling at night, because of the roads. They apparently do the transport better now, and come up this end of the place always at about a quarter to twelve, which is all right. Next week I shall be on again with Miss Bertie, and other quite pleasant people, unfortunately not with Elizabeth Burbury and Ivy Baker, who are always so happy.
I seem to do about a Russian lesson a week, and am now in the middle of the fifth. I have always thought the host and hostess should not sit at the same end of the table, and the more I look at it, the less I like the waiter’s face. Did they have hunting trophies on the wall in the French?
With much love
from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
(‘14’ crossed out) 28 Jan 1941
Dear Parents,
(‘We had’ crossed out) Please excuse this curious piece of paper on which I started a letter a fortnight ago, but I found it in my bag and it seems a pity to waste it, when I have a suitable moment for writing. I am waiting to be fetched to work at midnight, and I brought no interesting book downstairs, so I thought I would write rather than read some of the ancient and horrid papers, rather like Uncle’s “Guide and Ideas” for the football pools, which Mrs Evans takes.
This is the first time I have done the night shift in the new hut, and it is better, because it is possible to get more air. Also I am in a room by myself, and can suit the ventilation as far as possible to my own liking. But still I am sure the air is pretty well exhausted by the time we come on, since if I feel peculiarly drowsy, I have only to stick my head out of the window for a moment to recover completely. Luckily the room next door is full of people, or I should feel rather churlish in not joining the party, but they have an oil stove on, and the heat is something frightful. I have been parted from the very nice lot I was on with last time, except for Miss Bertie, but these are not gloomy which is the great thing.
There has been quite a lot of dissipation this week comparatively. On Thursday I went to the pictures with Helen, to see the “Sea Hawk”, a grand historical Romance with Errol Flynn. Oh boy! Oh boy! as Uncle Harry said of “Robin Hood”. We enjoyed ourselves a lot making appropriate remarks in an undertone, I trust not disturbing our neighbours. I was so glad I went with Helen. If I had been with Muriel, for example, I should have been as bored as she would be. She has such a serious and painstaking kind of mind, and is not one to enjoy a good laugh.
29 Jan.
I stopped because it was five to twelve, and I thought it about time to be gone. It appears that the car did not come till quarter past, but they can hardly expect us to wait, as so often the car does not come at all.
On Friday I went over to the Roscoes’. They have now bought a cottage in Woburn Sands, and are just moving in, so Muriel and I were very useful to put up the beds and unpack the books and the kitchen stuff. It is so nice to feel that I can drop in on them any time, and nobody bothers to be ceremonious.
On Sunday night I went to a show given by the office club Drama group. Some of it was bad, some fair, and a performance of AP. Herbert’s “Two gentlemen of Soho” was very good. I think that the drama is got up by one clique, and not by all the people who really have gifts that way. Helen, for example, should have joined; she can take off people marvellously. But they have a superfluity of females, anyhow.
Next week-end I am going to Oxford.
With much love
from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
6th February 1940 (?should have been 1941? – marked by LJT as rec’d Feb 6th 1941)
Dear Parents,
At last I have got a new ribbon, as you may observe. I got it in Oxford, where I was for the weekend, from Saturday till Tuesday, because I took the days off for two weeks together. I had a very pleasant time. On Saturday afternoon we went to hear Solomon play. I enjoyed the programme better than last time. In the evening I met Esther and we had supper at the new snack bar. On Sunday Christina and I went for a walk on Port Meadow. It was lovely, with all sorts of soft colours reflected in the floods, and a quantity of swans, which kept on flying about. We stopped to watch them swimming up the kind of bar just below the first bridge, pumping away against the current. One got fed up and let itself be carried downstream again. We thought it might have been simplest to fly, but of course it is quite a business for them to take off.
On Sunday afternoon we had a tea party. Various people came, including Gavin and Gerard Irvine, and quite unexpectedly, Joyce, who had come over with Frank to some meeting, and whom I had not seen since, I think, last Easter. On Sunday evening we went to a play reading of ‘The white devil’, got up by a number of people in the present third year, who most kindly permitted me to come. It was great fun. I never realised, when just reading it, what good scenes there are in it, but I always wish that Elizabethan drama were a bit more coherent. In ‘The white devil’ there are so many characters that there is no time for any of them to show to the best advantage.
Monday was another very full day. I shopped for a bit in the morning, and got a large pair of walking shoes, and fetched my picture that Mrs Drake gave me from the framers, and met Gavin for coffee at the Playhouse, where I was much diverted by all the curious people, of whom the best was a girl in yellow trousers, with blue suede shoes with pink soles and trimmings. Then I went to Miss Bertie’s house, and borrowed some Italian books from her. Then I met Esther for lunch, and then went to buy records with Christina. We went first to Taphouse’s, where I became annoyed, because when I said ‘Have you got a Mozart Divertimento for flute, clarinet, and bassoon?’ the girl said ‘No, but would you like this one for five flutes, ten horns, and six drums?’ or something of the sort. Finally we went to Acott’s, and got some of the things I wanted there, but some I had to order, so unfortunately they will be taxed, 1/4 for a 6/- record. After this we went to tea with Jean Coutts in her digs. She has just got engaged, and says she has gone up a lot in her landlady’s estimation, who only really approves of married women. In the evening I went with Esther to the theatre. We saw Rex Harrison and Diana Wynyard in ‘No time for comedy’, not much of a play, most obviously trying to be funny, and yet to include a few serious thoughts in order to make people think they haven’t been wasting their time. However, we passed the evening quite pleasantly, much better than I had expected.
Tuesday morning I spent in bookshops, without much profit. It is sad the way they have got down to a kind of residue of the dullest foreign books, which nobody wants. But still, it prevented me from buying anything. But I bought Milton’s works and ‘The musical companion’.
Yesterday was bitterly cold, and in the evening it snowed hard with a driving wind, which was most unpleasant. We had to walk up from the bottom of the hill here, as the big bus cannot come up and turn, and the snow was several inches thick, but this morning it has practically all gone, most surprisingly, and fortunately. I have worn through my snow boots, and the shop cannot mend them, so I got some stuff in Woolworth’s called ‘Rhino-sole’ which you spread on and dry, and which ought to be all right.
We have taken to eating raw carrots, as fruit is so expensive. I started it last week on the night watch, and the next night they were all doing it. One also sees little boys walking with huge carrots, I suppose because they can’t get sweets. I managed to get one box of Meltis fruits in Oxford, to hand round in the office, by happening to go into the Cadena on Monday, when they had just got a few in.
Of course, having been away, I have not done much Russian, but I am doing the sixth lesson. There are two others learning in the office; each of us brings out our new phrases with great pride.
With much love from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
13th February 1941
Dear Parents,
No letters from you this week, but instead two long ones from Romey, sent on by Aunt, and one from Richard, which was the first I heard definitely of his being on a ship. Gavin said he thought Aunt had said something about his not still being at Yeovilton, but he wasn’t sure.
Romey certainly seems to have had a good time at Christmas. I am glad she finds the skating quite easy, because last year when we went out on Port Meadow, the skates I had borrowed for her did not give enough support at the ankles, and the expedition was rather a failure. Christina said they had quite a lot of skating at Gerrard’s Cross, but I think only about one girl skated here. I didn’t realise that the frost had been hard enough long enough.
I write in haste before going over to Woburn Sands to spend my day off with the roscoes. I should have written yesterday, but I was very hot and sticky after country dancing, and didn’t feel like it. There are nearly always the same people at the country dancing now, so that not so much time is spent on learning, and anyhow people are getting much quicker at learning. On Monday night I went down the club in the hall of the elementary school, where they have ballroom dancing on Mondays, and enjoyed it very well. There was not too great a superfluity of girls, and I found I knew quite a lot of both men and girls from the Scottish dancing. The reason I went was chiefly that I wanted to get out of my billet, because Mr Evans had another fit of the sulks or something and made such objectionable remarks that I really though I should have to leave. Such stupid little incidents again, but the atmosphere was most uncomfortable. For example, on Monday morning I came down to breakfast. mrs Evans fetched my bacon out of the oven, as she always does, having refused my offers to get it myself, so I gave up asking quite a while ago. Mr Evans snapped out ‘You come here and sit down and eat your breakfast properly, instead of slaving for other people like a skivvy’. I didn’t say anything, but I felt very like asking him to say outright if he wanted me to go, but billets are so difficult to get, and Mrs. Evans is as pleasant as ever. But by Tuesday evening he seemed to have calmed down, and we all chatted about the news quite amiably. I think my best policy is to keep myself to myself and never by any chance touch anything in the house outside my own room. It appears that he objected to my reading the paper, even after he had seen it himself. It had never occurred to me that that might be an offence.
I went fencing again on Saturday, and was relieved to find that the movements are coming more naturally. It will be better still when we can get on to practising by ourselves, because at the moment we have to stand about such a lot, as the girl who so nobly does the coaching can only give about ten minutes to each person, and most are beginners who cannot yet go along.
I have found another recorder player, and Helen says she would like to make a third, so we are giving her one for her birthday. The great idea is to take picnic lunch in the fine weather and play in the fields.
I stopped because it was about time to go, but as Mrs Roscoe and Barbara have gone out to a rehearsal for a concert, I am keeping the house, and take the opportunity to go on.
Anyhow I don’t think much else has happened. I haven’t done so much Russian, but there again I find it comes more natural, so I am encouraged to persevere.
Tomorrow I am going back with Pam after work, to have dinner and stay the night. Betty is just over measles, and coming back to work on Monday.
With much love
from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
19 Feb 1941
Dear Parents,
this week I had the letters about Sydney, for which many thanks. I am glad it proves to be so much better even than its descriptions. I sent them on to Dicky after taking them for Uncle Bous and family to read, also some of Rosemary’s. We were all much amused by the story of her highly suspect cable.
I did not go over to Leighton on Friday, as Pam and I both missed each other somehow, and thought the other had gone home forgetting our arrangement. But in the end it was lucky, as Uncle Bous was kept at work on Friday and I should have not seen him. As it was, I went on Saturday and we had a very pleasant evening doing the “New Statesman” crossword which he and Lionel Rothschild seem to win most weeks giving the name of one of the typists or secretaries.
It is now ten o’clock in the morning and I am about to go to bed, so as to get in enough sleep before going to the pictures “Pride and prejudice, the story of five love-hungry sisters.” But Pam, an ardent Janeite, says the picture is good if you forget about the book. Usually I still go to bed after lunch, as it takes a lot of fresh air to dispel the stuffy feeling of working behind curtains all night.
Tomorrow is my night, so I shall go to Woburn on Thursday where the Roscoes always make one welcome. Last Thursday I went, and spent the afternoon cleaning my bicycle, while they cleared the garden shed, so you see the kind of household it is. Yesterday morning Helen and I rode over, because I wanted to introduce her, as she plays the fiddle and the piano, and has little scope for either in her billet. It was pouring with rain soon after we set out, but we went on, being so wet already, and had a happy hour in front of the fire, being stuffed with coffee and cakes when they heard we couldn’t stay to lunch. Barbara may be going away soon to train for Quaker welfare work, so I like to go over as often as possible to see her, although a standing invitation is open to us whether she is there or not. It is so nice to feel really at home. Mr Evans’ bad mood seems to have passed, but I am being very careful what I do and say. A great trial, but people are so touchy. Helen used to have Barbara de Grey from the office to play duets on the bad piano at her house, but one day it appears that Barbara walked past the lady of the house without seeing her, and Helen was told that “No such snob was going to darken her door again” etc, etc, with our Wilfred on his high horse too, so I am not the only person who has to be tactful. Of course Barbara had not seen Mrs Watson, and did not cut her intentionally, but what good were explanations.
On Friday I am going to meet Doris in Northampton for lunch, to which I look forward very much. She has sent me a map of the route from the station to the café, so I shall have no trouble in getting there.
Much love from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
Highways
Gt Leighs
1 March 1941
Dear Parents,
I am home for the week end as you may gather. I took the opportunity of the last long weekend we shall have. until now when we did the “rotate”, taking other people’s places on all three shifts when they had their day off, we were allowed Sunday as a free gift as well as another day, but Mr Wills began to kick up a fuss because he’s afraid of the authorities in London objecting and so now we are only allowed Sunday but still from Saturday at 9.0 till Tuesday at 4.0 is a pretty good weekend anyway. Nevertheless, it is annoying to lose an underserved privilege because one has no reason for a good grievance.
As far as I remember I wrote just as I was setting out to the Roscoe’s, where I had a pleasant day, doing odd jobs mostly. On Friday I went to Northampton which is a foul place, and met Doris, who seemed not so bright as usual on account of the old Aunt’s ways. Doris says that she will hardly let her out of her sight, and that a day out to the pictures is a great treat. Before I forget, - she said did you know that Sir Herbert Cumming was dead, I think that was it, but I have a horrid suspicion that it was not that at all. The wireless makes such a noise I can’t think. It is disgraceful not to remember, but I think that the message can’t have been anything else.
We went to see a rather overdone dramatic film, called “Four sons”, as it was the only one on I hadn’t seen. Then Doris caught a bus, and I got a train back.
“Pride and prejudice” which I also went to that week, I enjoyed, although a lot of it was very silly. But Greer Garson was so enchanting that I am going again with Peg this afternoon to see it. We are meeting Auntie Hilda first for lunch, and she said she would possibly come to the pictures too.
I can think of nothing I have done this week. I have found several recorder enthusiasts, so we shall soon have quite a band. Helen has one, and as she used to play the penny whistle, it won’t be long before she plays quite well. The wireless is “too buch for be” as our Miss Reynolds says, and I shall stop. I can’t leave the wireless, because I am drying my hair at the electric fire.
With much love
from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
6th March 1941
Dear Parents,
There isn’t really much to say since i wrote at home, because the weekend, though pleasant, was quiet. On Saturday Peg and i went into Chelmsford and met Auntie Hilda for lunch. She seems in very good spirits, in spite of being alone in her house most of the time, and having had bronchitis. She had very good news of Rex, who has been recommended for a commission. She did not come to the pictures with us, as Geoff Ransome was driving her back. he is in the Air Force, and it is amazing how the kinks have come out of his hair.
I enjoyed seeing ‘Pride and prejudice’ again, although I found a lot more points to criticize. They always alter things so unnecessarily. We did not go to the village dance in the evening, because the old lot of officers had gone away, and Peg hasn’t got to know the new ones yet. Gwen reported that there wasn’t anything particularly lovely; and that the hall was very full and very dusty, so I was glad we hadn’t gone.
On Sunday we took the dogs for a walk and picked pussy willow for Peg to take to the office. After tea we went round to the Seabrooke’s and saw William and Josephine, who kindly allowed Peg and me to bath her. We had great games with a rubber parrot who would dive into the bath when properly poised. I have never seen Josephine in such a good mood, but perhaps she was shy before, and has now got used to me as well as Pet.
On Monday I wrote some letters, and dug in the garden, and went to see the Watsons, and on Tuesday I came up to town in the morning, and bought some music for our recorder trio, and a hairbrush, which is a most difficult thing to get, on account of the shortage of bristle, but Boots in Regent St had a fair number. Most of the damage round Oxford circus has been patched up and it looks quite ordinary. There are crowds more people about too. I had lunch with Peg and Penelope Elliot-Smith at Shell Mex before catching my train here.
I don’t if I said last week that from now on we shan’t be able to get such a long weekend because mr. Wills has been kicking up a fuss about us being given Sunday free after the ‘rotate’. Apparently he had been much annoyed because we took it last week, although the new arrangement didn’t start till March 3rd. But by the time I got back the storm had blown over, and anyhow everybody was much occupied with another thing. One girl has got diphtheria, and we all had to go and see the doctor and have our throats looked at. The doctor said Helen had a patch on her throat, which Helen said was because she had been laughing, but she has to be away for two days, so our musical efforts have been suspended for the moment.
We shall still get quite a long weekend, from Saturday morning to Tuesday afternoon, but we were chiefly annoyed about it because it is no business of Mr Wills anyway, as he has nothing to do with the administration at all. Actually it might be better if he had, because the two who do it have but little sense.
Much love from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
11th March 1941
Dear parents,
I have just got a long letter from New Zealand, No 2 about your first expedition on the glacier and beyond. It sounds the most lovely place. it is odd that most of the flowers should be white. I wonder why they are, gentians and all.
I haven’t done much of interest since I last wrote; having been at work in the evenings I have mostly spent studious days in my own room. The great excitement at the moment is getting up a recorder band. Our Mr Millar became so excited by the sight of mine and Helen’s that he rushed off and bought himself one, and then one in a larger size, corresponding as it were to the clarinet if the small one were the flute, not so speak of masses of music and stands. He is one of those people who plunge into any new craze with the wildest enthusiasm. I hope it lasts long enough for him to learn to play. He has given recorders to several others in the office, and Helen says she will conduct, and Barbara de Grey will play the piano. At present I am the only person who can play at all, but it only takes a few weeks to get some facility, and we can play fairly slow things to start with. I have played several times with Nora Bishop, not in our office, but she was at Oxford. We thought we might get Mr Cooper to join the band. he came in with great interest when he heard the peculiar sounds Mr Millar was making in his efforts to play a scale, and said he used to have one, but it was stolen from him in a train in Italy. Perhaps the thief wanted to play under the olives, like the old gentleman with the ivory pipe Christina said they met at one hotel where they stayed.
I shall go away for the weekend again next Saturday, because I have changed shifts with another girl, who had moved her billet, and had to get on to the same shift as someone in the same house, because the landlady cannot cope if they are working different times. At first I thought I really did not want another weekend so soon, but then I decided to go to oxford, but now I hear from Christina that she is going down on Saturday, but also saying when am I coming to stay with them, so I might go and shop on Saturday morning, and then go to Gerrard’s Cross with her in the afternoon.
I have made more progress with the Russian this week than for some time. I got rather stuck in the sixth lesson, because they talked so fast I couldn’t catch some of the words. The seventh lesson seems to be slower again, but perhaps I am just getting used to it.
I got a letter of Romey’s sent on this morning. it seems to odd to read that she hasn’t skated for four weeks because it wasn’t warm enough. Here it is on the whole warmer than it was, although we have had two falls of snow this week. A pity that it hasn’t been cold enough for skating, but perhaps not, considering all the people who have to be on watch. But I think one of the most horrid things about the war is that the worse the weather the better pleased one is. On moonlight nights They are sure to come buzzing over. But of course even when there are no raids for some time, one only feels that something worse is brewing.
I remarked the date at lunch time, and thought of Papa’s birthday, but it was too late to do anything abut it even when uncle mentioned it last week, so still more so now.
Apropos of your amusement at some of the Dutch expressions, there is a young man recently arrived who speaks Dutch fluently and is always bringing the most wonderful expressions. It is like very comic German.
With much love,
from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
19 March 1941
Dear Parents,
I have just been away for a most enjoyable week-end with the Drakes. I went to Oxford on Saturday, being lucky enough to get a lift from here, and bought some records with Peg’s and Gavin’s token. I got Arnold Dolmetsch playing the recorder, and the music to the “Sylphides”, not the full thin, just a ballet suite on one record. We had quite a lot of leisure for wandering about and shopping, because Mrs Drake was coming over by car to fetch us at 4.30. It was very nice going by car again instead of by train, especially as Christina had masses of luggage in odd bits.
On Sunday we got up very leisurely, and mostly played recorder trios till lunch time. We have all improved a lot, and most of the things went with a great swing. After lunch it was so fine that Christina and I decided to go for a cycle ride. We went to Maidenhead, as that was quite nice country, and we thought we might find Joyce at home possibly. But they weren’t in, so we had tea at a tea shop, and came home by another route, mostly across bridle paths, very pretty, and worth having to push the cycles. On Monday we set out very early for a great expedition to see a cousin of Mrs Drake’s who is leaving shortly and they wanted to say goodbye. We took a bus to Berkhamsted and then walked about seven miles by little lanes.
Unfortunately it was grey and chilly all the morning, but we enjoyed the walk all the same. We found the cousin at home, a nice young woman with three delightful small children, with whom we played for about an hour after lunch before setting out again. We did the same walk back, but it was much finer, and we could see the countryside well. We dropped in at two nice little village churches, and read the memorials to generations of local squires with much interest, and finally got back to Berkhamstead to take another bus back. Fifteen miles is a very nice distance to go when not in training; my new shoes proved very successful on this first long walk, and my feet were hardly tired.
Yesterday we came up to town by bus, and meandered about Regent St. looking in music shops and book shops. Mr Millar asked me to get him a Portuguese dictionary, but it was no good, as all the stocks (printed in Germany) were burnt in Paternoster Row. We had a very nice lunch, and then I had to catch my train here. With these long expeditions I felt as if I’d been away a long time. Unfortunately Mr Wills appears to be in a bad temper but as I’m on in the evenings I miss the brunt of it. He doesn’t like to have a lot of chattering females about, even if they aren’t in the same room.
I seem to have come to the end of my paper, and I really hadn’t anything much else to say about last week, so goodbye.
With much love from Annette.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
25th March 1941
Dear Parents,
I have arranged to return the last two lots of my allowance to Grindlay’s. I am afraid the January one got paid to me too, because I thought you would have written to them. But I hope it has been no trouble. You will see that I am not being at all self sacrificing when I tell you that I still have a balance of £25 in the bank, over and above about fifty pounds in war savings, and I have bought myself everything I wanted. I shall probably get myself a mask and foil for fencing, as well as the jacket I have ordered, because it is much nicer to have one’s own, and there is rather a shortage of ones to hire, because it is all being run as cheaply as possible. I begin to find it so fascinating that I think I shall make good use of the equipment. I suppose I might buy a new tennis racket too, but as Romey’s is at home, I might as well use that, because it will only lie rotting otherwise. You may remember that mine got left behind in France.
I had two lots of letters in two days this week, describing your four day expedition, and its not so happy after-effects, which I trust soon wore off. Curiously enough, it doesn’t make me particularly envious to hear of all the cream and things in New Zealand. Nor did I think about all the lovely food in ‘The great dictator’, in the custard pie scene, although some said it was positively revolting to show such masses of good food being wasted. The thing is that some of the people in billets here are definitely underfed, I think, and of course the food is not nearly so lavish in the office canteen, so they can’t make up. Mrs Evans serves just as thumping big meals as ever, with as much meat and vegetables, as far as I can see. Of course more and more things are going to be rationed, but as regards cheese that will be a good thing, because of late it has been almost unobtainable in a lot of places. I must say it seemed rather wicked to see the masses of beautiful bottled fruits and biscuits and glazed chickens and what not in Fortnum and Mason’s, except that in a way it is a pleasure to see that such things still exist. The thing that still strikes me as most amazing is the way in which it has become quite natural to see bomb damage. I might almost say that we were more excited by the lovely crocuses in the Park, that in the sight of the smashed end of the Burlington Arcade, or the ruins of St James, Piccadilly. ‘That’s new since I was here last’, we say, and go on. It’s mostly in the watches of the night that the horror and futility of it all come over one.
Next Sunday Uncle Bous has asked me to come in the car with them all to Highways. I shall stay the night before, so as to start at crack of dawn, as they say. I think I shall take the opportunity of taking home some of my books, which I don’t particularly want to read immediately again, and which have drifted to the bottom of the pile on the chest in the corner of the room. They have even overflowed into the tin cupboard in the office. I left my three volumes of the ‘Tatler’ there, and we have had some amusement reading bits after dinner, with all the long s’s as f’s.
I didn’t know that Dicky had even thought of doing Scottish dancing. I haven’t mentioned it for some time, because there is nothing much to say except that we add to our repertoire. It is much more fun now, because everybody knows the steps and so on, and the eightsomes especially now go with tremendous swing. It is an excellent thing for getting light on the feet, as is fencing too, even though there you do have to remain firmly planted when you are planted, and haven’t the advantage of being able to keep on the toes all the time as in tennis.
I went over to the Roscoes on Sunday for lunch. Barbara has now got a job in Friend’s House in London, living in a hostel and getting a pound a week pocket money, as it were. She says that the great thing about it is that the other people there are so congenial, although she doesn’t enjoy living in London. She had thought of applying for the same sort of job as mine, but as her fiancé is a conscientious objector, and perhaps herself too, I don’t know, she prefers to do welfare work.
Muriel Ansell introduced me the other day to a man in her office, who was a pupil of Mr Cape’s at Colchester. Mr Cape had told him I was working here. He said that when he last heard of Mr. Cape he was back at home, but whether on a flying visit or not he did not know.
with much love from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
Bucks
8th April 1941
Dear Parents,
I have borrowed a typewriting book from Barbara Roscoe, and have been doing the first exercises with the keys covered up. My efforts to type the address similarly show how necessary it is that I should learn properly. Letters are fairly all right, but I never did learn figures and oddments, so I think it would be as well to start off at the beginning.
I did not write last week because I felt very tired the first few mornings on the night shift, and I knew that aunt had one of my letters anyway, as she had been too busy to write the week before. It was very nice going home with Uncle Bous and family. We left Leighton at 8.0 and took just about two hours to get to Chelmsford. We did the round of all the relations, Uncle Len, and Witham aunts, before going on to Highways for lunch and tea. Aunt had killed the fatted calf in the shape of a handsome chocolate pudding, with not only chocolate sauce, but grated chocolate as well. I brought back quite a lot of books I had finished with, and returned with two dozen eggs I bought off Uncle, some for the Evans’ and some for the Roscoes. We got back to Leighton about 7.0, and after dinner I went to bed to come on at Midnight. Pam roused me at 11.0, but unfortunately the car came so early to fetch me that I had to leave the tea made specially for my benefit, and fly off without proper expressions of gratitude after so nice a visit. I shall go home again next weekend, and I hear from Betty that Aunt has been persuaded to come and stay with them on the 15th, so we shall be able to come back together.
The Friday before going home I went over to Cambridge, and spent quite a pleasant day pottering about colleges and bookshops with Elizabeth Parnell, who is at Somerville, and was taking the vacation course in French which has been fixed up between the universities, so as to let people hear some spoken French now they can’t go abroad. I must go over next term again, and see John in these unfamiliar surroundings. I have also remembered that Stephen Toulmin, being a scientist, is still there.
Last week, as I had had my day off on Sunday, I had no excitements. I went to the pictures on Thursday evening, to see ‘They knew what they wanted’, with Charles Laughton, which was very good, and on Sunday I went to the Roscoes for tea, and stayed to supper, after which we played Mah Jong. Betty, the youngest daughter, had a school friend staying with her who wanted to learn.
I thought I would get time to write more in the dinner hour this evening, but didn’t, and I want it to go because otherwise my letter to Aunt announcing my arrival won’t get there before me, so please forgive shortness.
Much love from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
19th April 1941
Dear Parents,
I haven’t felt like writing letters this week, because it was such lovely spring weather one simply had to be about and not stick indoors. But this morning, when anyhow I should have had to have written, fine weather or no, because I want to give the letter to Aunt tomorrow, it is damp and drizzly, although there is still a sort of spring feeling about.
I arrived home last Saturday to find great excitement, Richard having come for two days leave and Peg having got engaged. Also I heard about Joyce’s expected baby, but that of course was not so new to the others. Peg’s Michael seems to be very nice, a large comfortable sort of person. Peg said that when she first met him she thought he was bone from the neck up, and even now feels like patting him on the head when he makes and intelligent remark. This is not because they are rare, but just because he doesn’t look the sort of person who would make general intelligent conversation. As for Peg patting him on the head, she couldn’t do it unless he were sitting down, as he is very tall. He will make the most comic contrast with Frank. Aunt was very pleased to get good references for him from the other officers, because it is all so sudden. I have another reference for her. Helen Butchart knows his brother John, who is a Fellow of King’s, Cambridge, or something of the sort, and also met Mrs Pringle and various of the family in Manchester, and says they are very nice. I do hope Peg will really be happy this time. I should think Michael will be a much better husband than Peter Parker, who is so very moody. When I left on Tuesday, they had pretty well decided to have the wedding on May 17th. I shall see if I can fit in my week’s leave round about it, because Aunt says she will be very grateful for assistance.
I came up to town early on Tuesday to do shopping, and got a dress to wear at the wedding, a dull pink crepe, with shirring at the waist in front, and a sash behind. Also I got a green gored skirt, a striped shirt, and a cotton frock, which I hadn’t thought of buying, but was taken with.
Aunt is staying with Uncle Bous now, and I am going over to lunch tomorrow. I want to take her to something in town on Monday before she goes home. We had thought of ‘Dear Brutus’ the only good play on just now, but they now have the first house at 5.0 instead of a matinee, so I doubt if Aunt would want to be so late. But there are quite a lot of good films, and might even go to ‘Gone with the wind’ if we go up early. Apparently there are still tremendous queues for it in the afternoon.
I can’t recall anything of note that has happened here, except that we had a reading of ‘Much ado’ last Friday, about ten of us from the office. There is nobody with any particular talent, but it was most enjoyable all the same. There was a notice put up last week saying ‘The watch may not go off duty until their relief comes’, so when we came to a bit in the play where Dogberry says ‘For a watch to babble and talk is most tolerable and not to be endured’ and Verges answers ‘We will rather sleep than talk, we know what belongs to a watch’ it was hailed with shouts of joy, and when we had an idle moment one day Helen proceeded to make copies, one for each room. Mr Wills, having come in and said ‘What’s all this? Stupid waste of paper’, was so pleased with it that he pressed for more copies. he has had arguments with Helen about talking and babbling, even throwing a tin at the wall one day. Of course, we do chatter a lot on occasion, and the walls are so thin you can hear most of what is said if you listen.
The first batch of girls has got to go and register to day. They said twenty and twenty-one, but it appears that it is only those who were twenty one between the first of January and now, so I won’t have to go with this lot.
With much love
from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
24th April 1941
Dear Parents,
I have just got letters number seven and eight from New Zealand, but I haven’t read the last one yet, the very long one, because I want to get my letter written this morning, and Sheila Legat is coming in to listen to some Russian, at least she said she was, and it’s already quite late, so I thought I’d better get on with it. Papa says did I buy the Russian because it was cheap or because I wanted to learn it. Both, I suppose, although I might have bought it anyway in time, but of course getting it cheaper turned the scale quicker. Anyhow, it is already being well used, because Diana Pears, who lives in the same house as Helen Butchart, is taking the records in turn. i went into the Linguaphone shop on Monday, and found that one can buy extra text books if one has already got the records, so Diana is going to get one, which will save a lot of copying out. They have brought out new editions of the text books for the more common languages, with new pictures, and lots of little pictures on the opposite pages, to make spotting the names of things easier. All the grammar and vocabularies are put into a little extra booklet, which tucks into a pocket.
I went over to Leighton on Sunday as arranged; all the Bevington family was there except Pam, and we went for a lovely in the woods on an estate near by, which belongs to Miss Kielberg’s parents. How she could leave such a lovely piece of country and go and live in that rather dull part of Essex, which isn’t really very good for riding, I don’t know. I had to go soon after lunch, but I met Aunt again on Monday in the train, and we went to see ‘Gone with the wind’, as ‘Dear Brutus’ has stopped having matinees every day of the week. I did not find it at all long, and thought it about the only film I have seen in which they haven’t made stupid alterations. It really seemed to be the book come to life, not that i was madly keen on the book, but still it was a satisfaction. We refreshed ourselves with ice-cream sodas at Lyons, still quite good, although of course there is no cream now, and then Aunt went off to catch the 4.0 train, and I did a little shopping. I got a sort of pinky red jacket to ear with skirts and summer frocks, and a hat for the wedding, navy straw with a wide pink and blue plaid ribbon making a large bow at the back. This I got at Peter Robinson’s, which had just got looking tidy again after the bomb, and has now had most of the corner blown down again by the blast from a bomb which made a large hole in the street a bit farther up towards Tottenham Court Road, and did a lot of other damage besides, as far as I could see. We had been rather worried to see no advertisement of ‘Gone with the wind’ in the paper, and it seemed quite fantastic to be saying as a matter of course, ‘Oh well, if it’s got bombed, we’ll go to’ Major Barbara’ instead’. I did think of going to see Peg, but then the evening rush started, so I came back instead, and read ‘Gallions Reach’ in the train as the finish to a very nice day.
Talking about bombs, an extraordinary man who looks like an Armenian, but whose name is Russell, and who is an enthusiast for recorder-playing, said that he thought it seemed a very nice touch to go into a music shop on the morning after the frightful raid last Wednesday, and say ‘You must stop picking up glass and come and sell me some music.’
Uncle Len rang up Uncle Bous last Sunday, because Auntie May had asked him to, because Aunt Do was being so difficult about staying in bed, as ordered by the doctor. What Uncle Bous was supposed to be able to do we did not know, and as Aunt says, when you get a long distance call like that these days, you immediately think something is very wrong. Aunt wanted to get back early on Monday so as to go over and see Auntie Do if necessary. I hope she is not very ill, but it is so difficult to feel much sympathy for her when she makes such a fuss about her house, and particularly this time, when she says that Uncle George won’t know how to manage things, when she has often left him alone to manage for himself for weeks at a time.
I suppose I ought to arrange to meet Mokes in Bedford some time. She is evidently quite impossible to talk to these days, and I never found it easy at the best of times. It is such a strain having to be either insincere or giving her hurt feelings. That ‘either’ is in the wrong place, but I not going to analyse my grammar the way Romey does now, because it gets to be an obsession. I wonder if she’s been doing a lot of English grammar, because she never used to be so fussy.
The weather, having been most pleasant, has turned horrid and cold again. I had meant to cycle out to a place I found and pick some more white violets for the office, but it would be no pleasure today. I got a lovely bunch one afternoon last week, with primroses and celandines too, but they die very quickly in centrally heated atmosphere, especially if one forgets to put them in the dark at night.
Did I say that Helen and I are taking the German news paper published for refugees. It means both that I read the paper right through instead of only the headlines, and also that i do a little German, which gets neglected otherwise. They have a great discussion at the moment as to whether all the refugees will be sent back to Germany after the war, or whether they will be allowed to choose where they will stay. It is all quite interesting. Otherwise, of course, the news is pretty well the same as in the English papers.
Sheila came in, and listened to a number of my records. If she had a gramaphone they could go on to her too, but she says that it encourages her to go on with her grammar book when she comes in and sees what I am doing. I haven’t been going so fast lately, what with the finer weather and all. Also I got stuck with the sixth lesson, which I think is too difficult for its place. Graham Orton, Barbara Roscoe’s fiancé agreed that it was very difficult to follow.
With much love
from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
171 Buckingham Rd
Bletchley
30th April 1941
Dear Parents,
It is actually four o’clock in the morning on May 1st, but I couldn’t be bothered to alter the date once I had written it. Also I am not at my billet, but at the office, with no work to do for the moment, so I take the opportunity, borrowing a typewriter from two rooms down. There is nobody asleep up this end of the hut to be disturbed, at least there shouldn’t be, although I daresay some of the others may be having a little snooze. i don’t feel sleepy tonight, which is quite surprising, as I didn’t have much sleep, going to bed in the daytime, in order to go to the pictures in the evening. We saw a lovely film ‘The Mark of Zorro’, with Basil Rathbone making acid remarks, and some most exciting fencing and riding. I went with Miss Reynolds, who has a great appreciation of the melodramatic and swashbuckling. it was definitely the sort of film to be seen in company. i don’t know that we really are kindred spirits, but in some things we think the same. We were sorry we only had Mr Millar for an audience the day we started reciting ‘Lives there the man with soul so dead’ together, and ended up with ‘Aha!’ in exactly the same tone. I don’t think Mr. Millar understands English verse very well, although he can follow pretty fast conversation. Also I don’t think he would have liked the tone in which we recited such a patriotic poem, because he is most seriously patriotic himself. Miss Reynolds and I are in agreement about another piece of poetry, Charles Kingsley’s ‘Welcome, wild North-Easter’, which has come into my mind every day this week, toiling to work in my bicycle in the teeth of a bitter East wind, although I feel just the opposite about it. But the wind seemed to have slackened off a bit today, and we saw the sun, so I couldn’t bear to go to bed without a walk first, to get the taste of the stuffy air out of my mouth, and I walked over fields to a wood full of primroses and anemones and violets and also bluebells, although of course these aren’t out yet. I got a lovely bunch of cowslips the other day, which scented the office wonderfully, and drowned the smell of stale tobacco smoke which there is most of the time. The air feels better tonight, because helen, who likes fresh air and doesn’t smoke, was on before me.
I stopped clattering for a bit and thought of some of the things I had to say, and had forgotten for the moment. Chiefly there was of course the sad news of Auntie Do’s death. It was such a shock to get Uncle’s letter last Friday, because there had been no mention of her being dangerously ill. But if, as Aunt writes, she would have been an invalid always anyway, it does seem much better she shouldn’t linger on, because she would have life miserable for herself and very difficult for anyone who was with her. It still seems to me a terrible pity she should have persisted in wearing herself out over her house. it almost makes one inclined to burn everything and live in a sack. And it wasn’t as if, of late, she was very happy about it, but I suppose she couldn’t slacken off the habit of years. It doesn’t seem credible that we were all over at Witham having tea not three weeks ago.
As far as my own news is concerned, there is one very cheering thing, which is that Helen and I and another girl are going up in the world to be Junior Assistants a step above clerks, with a salary of about £250, at least we hope we are. Mr Hooper told us that we had been recommended for promotion, but of course the powers in London may not approve. It was all completely unexpected. I thought from what Mr. Cooper said when I went up to that interview in November, that there was no chance even of a rise. Everybody had a half crown rise in War bonus the other day, but that is not the same thing. It won’t make any difference to our work, but a nice difference in official status, or so we think, and the rise in salary will be very pleasant, although half of it will go in income tax.
There have been a lot of your letters this week. I read the long description of your long expedition with much pleasure. That was the letter I hadn’t had time to read when I wrote last week. Then there was another long letter written from the Hermitage, and some others written in January, sent on by Aunt. There is a nice nostalgic pleasure in reading of other people’s travels these days. Also in planning future travels; we have lots of schemes for taking out savings after the war and travelling, half round the world it has to be, by the time everybody’s pet places are added. Sheila Legat says that somebody must learn modern Greek, so that we can do a sailing trip among the Aegean islands.
Which reminds me that Mr Cooper drifted in the other day with a leaflet about a summer school in Slav languages in Oxford in August. He read Russian at Oxford so he takes an interest in our studies. Sheila was much confused the other day because he fired a question at her in Russian, and of course she hadn’t time to think it out and answer. I suppose we shall have another week’s leave in the late summer, so it would be quite a good thing to spend a week in Oxford, and go on the river in the intervals of the course, which I am glad to see, appears to take not much of each day.
I am now beginning to feel sleepy, so I think I shall take to the bed in a room across the passage, as there are lots of people to do what work there is, and nothing for which I am responsible.
With much love
from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
21st May 1941
Dear Parents,
I meant to write to you last week from home, but what with laziness and business I never did. Moreover, I think the ribbon on Richard’s typewriter is quite worn out, although Uncle still uses it cheerfully, and I meant to get a new one and forgot, and I didn’t go into Chelmsford a second time.
There seem to be such a lot of exciting things to write about that I don’t know where to begin. Peg’s wedding was of course the most important. It all went off very successfully. Owing to Aunt’s good staff work, there was no particular rush with getting things ready for the party, and it was such a beautiful day, after a lot of very uncertain weather, that the reception and the cutting of the cake could all take place out of doors. Peg looked very pretty in pale blue, and both she and Michael looked so easy and happy, even though they said they were both shaking like a leaf.
The family dinner party the evening before was also a great success. Gavin and Joyce and Frank arrived about tea time, and we all went over to Silver End to meet the Pringle family, Michael’s three brothers, and Dr. and Mrs Pringle. The two families got on very well, and there was no lack of chat. Mrs Pringle I thought rather terrifying, the sort of person with whom I feel weighed in the balance and found wanting, but Dr. Pringle is a dear old man, and the boys very nice. Richard turned up after dinner to complete the party, having cycled over, so we were all very happy.
After the wedding, all the Bevington relations and Jane Wrey who had come with Uncle Bous, stayed on to have a cup of tea, and we then removed our fine clothes and sorted out all the borrowed glasses and spoons. We had had vague ideas of going dancing in the evening, but were all somewhat tired and it seemed much pleasanter to sit around and talk, with so many of us at home for the first time in years.
Richard and Gavin went off on Sunday morning, and Joyce and Frank stayed till after tea, which was nice. Aunt and Joyce spent the morning sorting out baby clothes, and got out the old cot, and old bath, which was full of chicken food, but quite sound.
I came back to work on Monday, to discover that Ann Toulmin has turned up here, which is delightful. I was just going to write to her again and ask her for news, and there she was, arrived while I was away. Added to this was the confirmation in writing of our promotion to Junior Assistant, so for about two days I was so excited I felt I couldn’t settle down to anything. I ought to have written to you then, instead of now, when I feel rather dreary from lack of sleep. The first day after night duty it is difficult to sleep, especially as I have now started to go to bed from 10.0 to 6.0 or so, and get up in the evening, as anyhow it doesn’t get dark till after half past ten with the new summer time, and one would have to sleep in daylight anyway, and there are things on in the evening to which I want to go. We are going to celebrate our rise on Wednesday by going to see ‘The prime minister’, in which John Gielgud appears to act very well.
On Saturday I went over to Oxford after work, and had about twenty minutes to change into evening dress, to go to dinner at the Mitre and the Somerville dance. Christina was giving a party for her last term, as it were, and we had a very nice time. There was one other girl, and two very nice brothers, the elder of whom Christina met at the Scottish society, and a friend of Gavin’s, a doubtful quantity who proved to be very pleasant and a good dancer.
I am going over again on Friday to see Gavin act in the ‘Comedy of errors’. I hope it will be fine. At the moment it rains every evening, and today it rained all day on and off, as I was aware in between sleeping. It thindered a bit too, which made me dream of huge guns going off with the most horrible explosions. Then on Sunday Ann and I are going over to Cambridge to see Stephen and I hope also Peg and Michael, because they may be there for some course Michael is doing. The following Saturday we think we may go to the Somerville Gaudy, because Ann thinks she might show off her new officer’s uniform. She got her commission last Tuesday, and has been selected for some special job, so is very cheerful.
I meant to write such a nice long letter, but I feel too dull. Tomorrow I shall presumably feel normal again, but I am going out in the evening, so I thought I would finish this now.
With much love from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
12th June 1941
Dear Parents,
We are still hoping to get some Summer. From being grey and dry, it has been grey and wet for the past ten days or so, and only one or two hardy people have come out into summer clothes. We had great hopes of last weekend. I was in Oxford, and Saturday morning was lovely, and we were making plans to go on the river and so on, but it started to rain on Saturday afternoon, and continued with only slight pauses till late on Tuesday. I did not mind very much, as I had not anything much fixed up for Sunday, and I spent it going round and visiting different people, some who also went down last year, and we exchanged stories of Civil Service idiocy. On Saturday I went to the Somerville Old Students meeting, and was rejoiced to see Esther turn up, as there was only about one other person there I knew, and mostly very old students indeed. We felt like the infants class at school, and stood in a corner eating chocolate biscuits. In the evening I went to see ‘Pygmalion’ at the Playhouse. They did it pretty well, but I should have preferred to be at the back to hear Esme Percy, because he shouts so.
On Monday Sheila Legat came over for the day. We had planned a conducted tour in the morning, an afternoon on the river, and the Anglo-Polish ballet in the evening. But although we saw quite a lot in the morning, the rain came on again at half past twelve, and stopped no more. We did a tour through Christ Church, Merton, Magdalen, Queen’s, New College Lane, and B.N.C. lane, to bring us out in the Turl, as we had arranged to have lunch with Esther and a friend at 12.30 at the Taj Mahal. The curries are still as good, though of course there is less variety of pickles, and we had pleasant chat as an accompaniment. I had meant at least to show Sheila the Bodley, but the rain was coming down so hard that it was no good thinking of more sight seeing. We retreated into the cinema and saw ‘Kipps’, which we did not think very good. We then made a dash through the torrents to Elliston’s and had waffles for tea. We went to Somerville to borrow another mackintosh and fetch my bag. I had been in Christina’s room for two nights, as she was away for her Schools weekend, but Miss Bertie had very kindly asked me to stay Monday night at her house in Walton Street, as soon as we had fixed up to go to the ballet. This was really lovely and I had got very good seats in the circle, so we had an evening of unmixed pleasure anyway. We saw ‘Sylphides’, ‘Spectre de la rose’ a ‘Divertissement’, in which some things were very good, others indifferent, and ‘Cracow wedding’, which is delightful, all gay and colourful and high-spirited, the sort of thing that makes one want to get up and dance too. I accompanied Sheila to her lodging, and found quite a party at my own, Miss Bertie having invited various people to come in. There was an old lady with a most witty and caustic tongue, a nice young man whom I gathered was a Fellow of Univ., Mr Radford from the office, whom I did not know to be an Oxford man (he is the source of a much amusement in the office, because he is like the White Rabbit for fuss) and a girl of about my age. The talk was interesting and diverting, and we did not get to bed till nearly two. Whenever I am away, I reflect on the discomfort in which most of the inhabitants of Bletchley, in spite of modern looking houses, pass their lives, especially as regards lugging water about in kettles. Many of them have no bath at all, which one might expect in ancient cottages, but not in such new houses as these. All this is occasioned by the civilised comfort of Miss Bertie’s house. She invited me to stay to lunch on Tuesday, so that we could travel together back to work at 4.0. I spent most of the morning in Blackwell’s, reading T.E.Lawrence’s translation of the Odyssey, while waiting for Christina to have her French oral exam. There has been a lot of discussion of the translation, but to one who doesn’t know Greek, it is certainly very easy to read.
On getting back, I was greeted by a young man from the other end of our hut, whom I have always regarded as offensively superior, with a request to put hot fomentations on his elbow during the evening, as I am down on the First Aid list. As that is just about the extent of my practical First Aid knowledge, it went off quite successfully, and the patient thawed quite a bit when being bandaged. Perhaps he doesn’t mean to be snooty, but he certainly looks it, as do a number of people round the place, such as have no use for anyone who doesn’t go in for their particular pursuits.
Ann has now got her officer’s uniform, but not the famous cocked hat, so she has to be disguised as a rating for out of doors. Which reminds me that your strictures on her appearance in the photograph are rather harsh, because the Wren ratings hat is simply the last thing Ann ought to wear, but uniform is uniform.
Now that the clothing rationing has come in, I am very glad I have been so extravagant lately. By a great piece of luck I bought three pairs of stockings for next winter and four pairs of ankle socks just the Saturday before the rationing came in, and a pair of lined gloves and a dozen handkerchiefs a little while ago, as well as the various outer garments I have mentioned recently, so I don’t need any more clothes for a long time, and I have got the length of tweed for a suit which I did not have madeup last autumn. It really seems a good idea on the whole to ration clothes, but I wish we did not always jeer at the Germans for doing things, and then go and do them ourselves. Which reminds me that we went to see ‘The prime minister’, in which a long scene is taken up by a gross fat Bismarck guzzling plates of food; there are so many things that could be pointed out against Bismarck that it seems utterly cheap and inept to go in for this sort of custard pie humour. In this same film they never mention that Disraeli was a Jew, so I was soured from the outset, and when the made out Disraeli as the champion of the poor innocent persecuted Turk, I very nearly said in a loud voice ‘What about the Armenian massacres?’, but had to be content with muttering it. Why they throw away such a marvellous opportunity for a good historical film, for a real piece of propaganda for the Jews, on a few shoddy cracks at the Germans, seems beyond me.
My other pet indignation at the moment is about something that is so funny it would write up for Punch. There is a circle of grass in front of the door of our gothic mansion. The cars had worn the edge of this into mud. The government contractors who do all the building and stuff round the estate proceed to cut large lumps of turf off the one decent tennis court, and mend the circle. Somebody eventually realises that the tennis court ought to be got into condition for the summer. So they cut a similar lump of turf off the court that was never used, and replace the bits first removed. For sheer idiotic waste of time I haven’t seen much to beat this, not to speak of the spoiling of the good tennis court.
I had better stop or I shall be using too much paper.
With much love from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents
26 June 1941
Dear Parents,
I have had a lot of letters this week. The ones that come by sea always seem to come in batches, as also do Romey’s. She now sends me one of her carbon copies every time which is very nice. We have been enjoying some summer weather at last these last ten days, hot sun every day, and have had sunbathing and even swimming. There is an old gravel pit, which I suppose is fed by springs, and is not at all bad for bathing, not muddy at the edges, and set among fields. I was put off last summer by several people saying it was horrid, as perhaps it was right at the end of a very dry summer, but it is certainly worth going to when it is very hot.
Apart from general enjoyment of sun I have done nothing much; I cycled over to Woburn on Sunday evening to the Roscoes, as Barbara was home for the week-end. (By the way, Barbara was in my year at Oxford, but I only met Helen here). On Tuesday Ann and Miss Reynolds and I walked across the fields to a pub which still has lovely though very expensive food, to have dinner. It is very pleasant to be thus extravagant occasionally, especially now that, owing to a lot of troubles in the kitchen, the meals provided at work tend to become more and more scrappy, and uncivilized. At lunch time there is always a horrid scramble, than which I always feel there are few things more degrading.
We had thought of going over to Stratford for our next week-end, but there is nothing on that we much want to see, so we think now of taking one day later on to go and see ”Much ado” or “Twelfth night”. So I shall go home next week-end instead, I think. It is very nice that Dicky has moved up near Cambridge, because it will be so easy to meet there, apart from his being able to get home so much more easily.
I am sorry that you worry so much about us all, although I suppose it can’t be helped. As for the war seeming so much more real than what you are doing, it really hardly seems credible even here, when one stops to think about it. It all seems so fantastic and unrelated to anything. We were saying only yesterday that we don’t really take the news in for weeks or months, I suppose because the papers always make such a hoo-ha about everything every day, that what really is important only stands out later, as a rule. At the time, unless its something as startling as Germany’s attack on Russia, I’m afraid I mostly remain rather indifferent. The papers are all so bad now, on the whole, with such a lot of silly blathering, that one is left with a sense of being fobbed off, and can only see things in any perspective later.
I seem to be very muddle-headed, but there isn’t time now to scrap this and start again, trying to get my woolly notions into some sort of order.
With much love
from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
10th July 1941
Dear Parents,
I meant to write to you from home, as Richard did this weekend, and then somehow I was too lazy sitting in the sun. The weather has now been very hot for more than a week, and everybody with gardens is very annoyed about it. Contrary to expectations, I found it much easier to go to sleep in the day time in the hot weather. I tried sleeping out for two days, but it was no good. I couldn’t getoff to sleep for long at a time, so eventually I gave up and came indoors, and slept very well.
I went over to the Roscoes several times, once for the whole day, and last week for two mornings, to sunbathe. The wild roses round here are perfectly lovely, or were, I should say, because they are now pretty well over. They really look like the Alexandra roses, and this seems to be a very good year. The hedges were covered with them, so I became reconciled to the finish of cowslips and spring flowers.
I went home on Saturday morning, and took a taxi from Euston to Liverpool St. by a most devious route, through all sorts of little City streets where there has been the most terrific destruction, all the part north of St Paul’s, where I suppose the fires got their biggest hold. It really is fantastic. One still can’t realise it somehow. Annette Webster, who has been in London ever since September, said that on the night of the great fire she came on her way back from work out of the Bank station to see the sky blood red, and walked for miles through burning buildings, many of which the firemen simply had to leave, there were so many fires, and she said it was so incredible she still could not believe it, even after having been through it.
No doubt Aunt has told you that she has come to lodge at home, having been loaned to the Essex country council for their emergency medical service. It was her job even before the war, keeping the vacancies in hospitals taped, and arranging for urgent cases to be sent to the right places, and so on, and of course lately it has also meant dealing with air raid casualties and Service cases. There was great confusion in the house with both of us there for one night, she was also confused by the references to our Richard, who is known as Roy in their house to distinguish him from their Richard.
I got home just before lunch on Saturday, and Richard shortly after it. He had said he might get the weekend too to me, but the family had not heard of it, so it was very delightful. It was Peg’s birthday, so she asked a lot of the Mess in to a little party in Poop’s corner after dinner, and we had quite a nice evening of chat with suitable refreshment. On Sunday we had a picnic to Coptfold, to which came also May Mac, and two brother officers of Michael’s, with the very nice wife of one of them.
Poor Aunt is really rather harassed about domestic help. Nanny Davies is there just now, but only for another week, and there is absolutely nobody to be had even to come in in the morning, as all the village women work on the land.
On Monday I sat under a tree and smelled the flowers, like Ferdinand, only it was more a case of looking at them. All the roses are out, the Paul’s Scarlet in full bloom, and the American Pillar just burst out between Saturday and Monday, so it was really lovely. I did not at all want to come through London on Tuesday, and I do not like going to work at 4.0 in this weather. You are hot, and everybody there is hot and probably cross as well, at any rate rather fed up. But of course it is nice to sit in the sun in the morning, or to go and swim, although I prefer to go and swim when I can come back in the cool of the evening. Next Tuesday I am going to cycle over to see Mokes after work, have supper and come back in the cool. I had thought of going over for lunch one day this week, but it would be too hot to come back mostly up hill after it. I don’t really want to give up a whole day off, most uncharitably, but there are so many other things I had rather do. I must arrange to meet Doris Holmes again. That also is apparently now a work of charity, because the old aunt is such a tyrant, but it is such a pleasure that there is no merit in it. Also Anna and I want to go to Cambridge and meet Richard.
We are all having a week’s summer holiday. I wanted to see some more of the world, and yet not to go on holiday alone, so I suggested to Sheila Legat that we should go to Cornwall or somewhere together, but then she heard that her people have taken a house in Cullen, a little fishing village on the East coast of Scotland, so we have now fixed to go there some time in August. it will really be very nice, and it is a great thing not to have to find hotel accomodation. Also we are not tied down to any particular week, which is good, because Sheila is liable to be called up for a commission at any moment.
There is now a sort of modern languages club at the office. I have started going to the Russian conversation class. There is a girl who is half Russian, and another woman who speaks fluently who run it, and a row of comparative beginners. I think it will be very useful, because at the moment, although I know quite a lot of words, I am tied to my parrot sentences. I haven’t progressed much with Linguaphone lately, because I sent away my sound box, because it vibrated too much, which seems to be a fault of H.M.V. portables, but it has now come back cured, so I hope to get on again, although I don’t know how much as long as the good weather lasts.
We much enjoyed the accounts of the hot springs and so on. It is so agreable to read of the wide open spaces when we are shut into a small space, as it were
With much love
from
Annette
From Annette to Parents
28th July 1941
Dear Parents,
It is very remiss of me not to have written for so long. When I look back I don’t really know what I’ve been doing, but I seemed to have some good reason for not sitting down to write, until the last few days when it has just been laziness. I haven’t done anything very exciting, but quite a lot of pleasant outings in the evening, meeting one person or another for walks, or swimming, or the pictures. Not much swimming really, because the heat wave came to an end just after I last wrote, in a grand thunderstorm, with rain coming down in great waves, and since then the weather has been unsettled, with a lot of rain, in spite of some fine days. Last Friday Ann and I took our lunch down to the swimming place meaning to sunbathe and then go to see the Roscoes later in the day. But it came up cloudy, so we took our picnic lunch and had it with Mrs Roscoe, fortunately, for there was some rain, but then the sun came out again, and we got baked in the garden. They are all very busy, because they have had to have the floors up for dry rot, and the house was upside down, and then Barbara is being married on Saturday, so that occasions a lot of thought.
The wedding is to be quite informal. We wondered whether there were any rules about dress at a Friends meeting house, but they say we can come without hats and stockings if we choose, which we do. We really feel rather honoured, as Ann, Helen, Muriel and I are the only people being asked besides family. Ann and I are going over to help in the morning. It happens to be a most convenient day for me, as it is my long week-end anyway, so I can go home after the wedding, by train from Woburn Sands to London.
I seem to have got a long way from discussing the weather. I was going on to say that it poured all Saturday, so we felt very pleased with ourselves for taking Friday off. Our original idea had been to go to Cambridge and see Dicky, but he could not manage an afternoon off. Actually I went to Cambridge the week before with Helen, but as it was only thought of at the last minute, I did not both to try ringing Richard up or anything. We did not do much but wander around and lean over bridges, after a large lunch with Helen’s sister and brother-in-law, who both work in Cambridge. We bought quantities of cherries and some Walls’ blocks, now scarcely ever seen. They tasted the same as ever though.
Some ten days ago Mr Christie just passed through the station here, and I had a chat with him between trains. He has since sent me some of Peggy’s letters, also a card to say he just heard she ahs given birth to a daughter, which is all very pleasing.
Another agreable piece of news is that Christina has got a First, as was to be expected, if with anybody. She is now working in Chatham House press cutting department, so it will be nice going over to Oxford still to have someone there to see.
I cycled over to see Mokes at her farm one evening. She seems to be with very nice people, and seems no worse in herself than before, only she is terribly thin. It is a most retired spot, so she won’t ever hear any sirens, or hear much of bombs except by accident. I hadn’t realised that from Rhyl they could hear the bombing of Liverpool.
I spent one night at Uncle Bous’s. As it was Sunday we had a quiet evening, but it was very nice. I had hardly seen the girls for weeks before that, being on the wrong shifts.
I think about the only other event of interest is that I went to the Clinic to give a second lot of blood. This time I did not feel the slightest bit squeamish, but watched the blood flowing into the bottle with interest. This will probably turn Papa, but everything is all so clean and neat there is no need to be turned. Helen came in when I was half way through, and so we had quite a nice chat, being much amused by the young doctor who was doing research into the incidence of faints among blood donors, and who said did we mind being asked a very personal question, so we wondered what was coming next, and then he said “Would you mind telling me your approximate age?” Apparently some ladies are so offended they get up and walk out.
I have just got “Disgrace abounding” out of the library, and find it most interesting, although terribly depressing. I must see if I can get “Insanity fair” too.
This will reach you in India. I hope the long leave has really done Papa good.
With much love
from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents (Pencil note by LJT: Rcd 12/12/41)
25th August 1941
Dear Parents,
I started in red because I was typing out the alphabetical sentences,* and thought to economize on the black ribbon. I don’t really know why I always get a half red ribbon, only it is rather nice to have occasionally.
* which, by the way, I think are admirable. But why Papa says he admires my typing I do not know; I make quantities of mistakes, I mean numbers.
I am surprised to reflect that it is already a week since I came back from my holiday, and I meant to sit down and write about it straight away. But getting a packet of letters from Queensland makes it easier to get down to it. We really had a most enjoyable time, although it was so short, and although it rained all the Wednesday and all the Saturday. Sheila and I set off on Sunday evening, and were very lucky in that the two other people who were supposed to be in our sleeper did not appear, so we really travelled in great comfort. We went straight through to Inverness, and were so pleased with the scenery that it did not matter the train being three hours late. We had just three quarters of an hour to look a bit at Inverness and buy lunch, and then took a slow train along the southern coast of the Moray Firth to Cullen, which is a little fishing village, and in peace time quite a seaside resort, because it has one of the few nice sandy beaches along that rocky coast. The beach is now set about with tank traps and barbed wire and so on, so for bathing we had to walk along a little way to a smaller but more interesting beach with rocks on either side, reached by a very nice rocky path. Mr and Mrs Legat, Sheila’s parents, are most kind and hospitable people, who seemed to take quite in their stride putting up and feeding a complete stranger for a week under present conditions. Anyhow, I scarcely felt a stranger for more than a few moments. When Sheila first suggested that the place to go for a holiday would be this house her family had at Cullen, I had never thought of going as anything other than a P.G., if one can use such an expression for a week, but when I got there there could be no question of that.
Their read home is in Glasgow, where Mr Legat had a flourishing civil engineering firm, which he gave up just before the war, but some pal of his had a quarry of sorts along the cliffs near Port Soy, the next village east of Cullen, and also a lease of some soapstone deposits a bit inland. The original quarry did not pay, but Mr Legat, being a live wire and a hard headed business man, opened up the soapstone quarry, since supplies from abroad, for making talcum powder and a lot of commercial uses, are so much reduced, and it is now the only place producing soapstone in the British Isles, and making a handsome profit. In ordinary times the soapstone found here is of such poor quality that it is better to import, but at the moment anything comes in handy. And as Sheila says, it gives her father something to do. I shouldn’t think he would stay idle long, anyway, even though he has retired from engineering. He said he thought he would like to become an auctioneer, and I should imagine he would have enough push and persuasiveness for anything. He was evidently in his element having a new listener for all the stories of his experiences of which his family were tired, and I was very interested, not knowing anything much at first hand of the sort of world he moves in.
After the first day, we were quite a large party for doing things, because a tough friend of Sheila’s, a girl who used to be an Olympic runner or something of the sort, plus young brother and a friend, an art student from Aberdeen, turned up on bicycles. The two girls had been doing forestry at Fort Augustus, and were cycling home round the lower half of Scotland. You can judge how tough Lily, the runner was, when you hear that she had been cycling for five days with most of the skin off both knees, having had to fling herself off her brakeless bicycle to avoid running into the loch at Fort William. In spite of having to walk stiff legged, she was game for anything. On the Tuesday we had gone a walk along the cliffs and had a lovely bathe in the morning, and in the afternoon had sat and lazed and then gone for another walk in the evening. On Wednesday it poured almost without stopping, but we went out in the afternoon, and walked to Port Knockie on the opposite arm of Cullen Bay, about three miles away, where there were some curious rocks with holes worn through, and altogether a lot of pleasing rocky scenery round the headland, where it would be lovely on a fine day. I forgot to mention that we had also a Polish officer, a solemn young man with very painstaking English. He seemed to enjoy being walked up rocky paths and through heather and bracken, all soaking wet, in his high polished boots.
Thursday and Friday were days on which it felt good to be alive. On Thursday morning we bicycled, with pauses for eating wild raspberries which are lovely in those parts, to a curious old bridge, set in a tiny wild lush green valley, overhung with trees, and with a rushing brown stream, all of which looked very lovely in the sunlight. The bridge is particularly interesting, because it has a priest’s hole in it, now broken down, but originally I should imagine, quite a good hiding place.
That afternoon we went to the rocky beach, and had a glorious bathe in the breakers that were coming in. We had to keep such a sharp watch and got so well buffeted there was not time to feel cold. When we had had enough we went on a little farther to the ruins of Findlater Castle, set on a rocky point directly above the sea. It was lovely sitting and watching the gulls on a fine summer evening, but it must have been a very grim place to live in in winter. The castle is supposed to be haunted by a nurse who accidentally dropped a baby out of a window down the sheer cliff onto the rocks. The said window is still there, although very little else, and it is all grown over with turf and sea pinks, although most of these were over when we saw it.
On Friday morning we had another ride to Port Soy, where I was to be the sacrifice and accompany Sheila on some duty calls, which Lily and the Pole looked at the harbour. Actually we had great fun, because there was a large party for coffee at the second house we went to, and Mr Legat and his partner then showed us round the harbour and the interesting part of the village, which really is very interesting. Owing to some kind of dirty work, the husband of some previous countess of Seafield, who owns all these parts obtained the right to be the only port, besides Leith, which could import Port wine to Scotland, and so Port Soy has still a lot of wine cellars and storehouses, the monopoly only having stopped about fifty years ago. Another curious thing is that some of the green veined marble for Versailles was taken from the cliffs nearby; it seems a very long way to go.
On Friday afternoon we went up the Bin of Cullen, a hill about a thousand feet high, only we were about half way up already when we left the car, and Mr Legat had given us all a lift out. There was a fine view from the top, of rolling land going inland to the real hills and of the coast and of the opposite shore, the hills of Ross and Caithness. There were showers moving about the landscape, luckily all missing the Bin, and there were some fascinating effects of light shining through the rain on the sea. We also saw one very fine rainbow, and a fleet of trawlers putting out to sea, but eventually the wind blew so chill we came down, and picked blueberries for supper, which was a hilarious meal, especially now the Pole had gone, because he had rather to be talked to, and wasn’t really up to joining a general conversation. I don’t think he was overwhelmed though, and he became quite commanding and fluent when Mr Legat got out his microscope (he is the sort of person who buys expensive gadgets) and asked to be instructed in its use. Sheila said this was a blessing as it got both Father (who was a pest with his microscope) and the slightly difficult visitor out of the way. However, he appeared to enjoy the cycle rides very much, and I imagine that any sort of a break must be very welcome, they must have such a dreary life stuck away doing nothing in these camps in the wilds of Scotland, not even daring to try and get news of their families, in case they should get into trouble.
Unfortunately Sheila was recalled before the end of the week. A telegram arrived to tell her to report on Sunday morning, as she was to go off to her officer’s training course on Monday. They very kindly asked me to stay on till Monday, when we had planned to leave. On Saturday it again poured all day, and we drove to Banff to put Sheila on the train, and then had lunch there before coming back to Cullen. The cyclists had been going to leave that morning, but had decided to put it off till the day after on account of the rain. In the evening we went to the pictures, and saw a very feeble film ‘Neutral port’, which was supposed to be pep propaganda, I imagine, but was so badly handled that instead it was more like a skit to show the idiocy of way, so Lily and I had quite a good laugh although it was such a silly show. We had a slight mishap with the car, because the coast road was covered with water in parts, and one bit was unexpectedly deep, and the water hooshed up all over the engine, and got into the plugs, and it took some time to get them dry and the car started, but it was really lucky nothing else got flooded.
Mr Legat had said they had enough petrol to do one small tour round to see a bit of the countryside, but on account of having all the people there, we had been putting it off till the end, and then of course Sheila was gone. But anyhow on Sunday afternoon we drove along the coast to the Spey, and watched the water coming down and then about ten miles inland to Craigellachie, I think that’s the spelling, a very charming spot in the valley of the Spey with nice hills round about. I only wished I could have gone up to the top, but of course we only had time for a little walk round about before driving back through very pretty country, through Dufftown and Keith. I mention the names in case you know any of them or would like to look on a map.
That was the last day, because on Monday morning I had to start my return journey, which was not nearly so much fun without a companion. I went through Aberdeen, and had about four hours there, getting there about 1.0, so I went up to the main street, and found a nice place for lunch, where I had haggis, which we had wanted to get at Cullen, but Mrs. Legat couldn’t get any. I then rang up Helen Butchart’s family, because she had insisted that I was to do so if possible, and was warmly invited to come along and see them. I met her young sister Joan outside King’s College, and she showed me round it, being very good guide, as Mr Butchart is secretary or some such title to the University, and naturally they are all very much in the know. He has apparently been responsible for a lot of improvements in getting more playing fields round the university buildings, and for various modern improvements in the buildings, including a fine new pavilion, with lovely sun lounges, which look out onto the fields and tennis courts and into the swimming bath, also squash courts, and showers and so on. We then had a look round the cathedral, which meant a nice little walk round the old part of Aberdeen, before going to tea at the Butchart’s house. Mrs. Butchart is a charming person, and apparently also used to having any number of people landed in the house at any time. She most kindly accompanied me to the station, as she said it would be quite impossible to explain the short cuts they usually take, and I think it would have been. As it was I had plenty of time to get my luggage out of the cloakroom and get my train at 5.30 for Perth, which I reached about 8.0, and had comfortable time for dinner before taking the train down. It really was lucky I had dinner, although I thought it rather extravagant, because the train was two hours late, and so I had no time for breakfast, as I didn’t get to the office till 10.30, having been meant to be back a 9.0. However, nobody minded.
I felt so sort of unsettled for two days that I got no letters written, except my bread-and-butter. And after that there was fencing one evening, and I stay much longer now because I can fight other people, and I went to see the Roscoes the next, and then there was fencing again on Saturday, and Mrs Roscoe asked me to supper on Sunday, when they were having a large party, Mary and her husband, Barbara and Graham, Betty (who is still at school, and spends her days at a riding school, just as Romey did at Miss Kielberg’s), and another man and girl, Oxford friends. We had some games of Mah Jong before supper, sharing hands, which was necessary, as some were beginners, and sat round after supper, and listened to Churchill’s speech. ‘Herring folk’ pleased us all very much as an example of his new German, but I am afraid I did not listen very intently, as I was looking at the Spanish Linguaphone, and found with delight that the host and hostess sit at opposite ends of the table, and the baby is only three months old, which is reasonable. I don’t know if this shows the good sense of the Spaniards.
I stop, because probably that will be too much in weight if I go on.
Much love from
Annette
From Annette to Parents (Pencil note by LJT: Rcd 12/12/41)
6th September 1941
Dear Parents
For some days this week we thought we were going to get some more summer, but it is now grey again, although not so cold as it was during most of August. As it had been so fine, Irene Reynolds and I had planned to go for a walk yesterday, taking our lunch, and we did go, but the heavy white mist, which looked as if it would lift early, hung about till after 2.0, so the walk to and through the woods was not as nice as it might have been, although quite pleasant, and the grass was so wet that we did not try footpaths after one attempt. Of course the sun came out just when I had to be getting back to work at 4.0, and then to be really annoying it started to rain just at midnight, when we were all leaving, not having brought mackintoshes for the first time in weeks. Today it is dull again, a contrast with last Saturday, which was really lovely, and the Sunday after it. I went to the Drakes’ for the week end. It is very easy to go by train to Berkhampstead and then take a bus all the way to Gerrard’s Cross. Christina does not usually get off till Saturday evening, but by a great piece of luck, she had the whole of Saturday. She enjoys her work in the press-cutting department of Chatham House very much, and has also very nice digs in John Street, with several other girls from her department, and next door to Esther’s, so she seems very happy; and of course she can home very easily at weekends.
On Saturday both she and Veronica were very busy with their pony, which had its back bitten, and continues to bit the place in its irritation, so they have not been able to ride and drive as they had hoped. On Sunday, which was a perfect day, with sun and a nice breeze, we took sandwiches, and, going by train to Beaconsfield, sauntered from there to Amersham through woods and fields, a lovely walk. We had lunch under some pine trees, and then lay in the sun, with our heads among the bracken, until Mrs Drake began to feel that the thought of tea or something to drink had more appeal than dozing, so we meandered on, reaching Amersham about 4.0. We had team and then came back by bus, and spent most of the evening playing our recorders, with Mrs. Drake playing the piano. Both nights I was there dinner was rather late, and we had it out of doors by moonlight, under the vines which are now nearly all round the house, and it was most romantic. The grapes don’t often get enough sun to get ripe, but they make delicious jam, and the vines are so pretty anyway.
On Monday Christina had to take an early bus to work, and Mrs D. and Veronica also went off early for ten days in Cornwall, but Nanny very kindly gave me an early lunch before I also set off. I went to see ‘Major Barbara’, which I thought very good, in the evening, and I went to the pictures again next day in the afternoon, before going to work, to see ‘Rage in heaven’, which I also enjoyed, although it was very morbid. But gripping. Its a pity they way all the good pictures seem to come in one week, because I simply had to go and see ‘Target for tonight’ on Thursday afternoon. I thought it was admirable the way they really have made it a straightforward account of a bombing raid over Germany, simply giving the facts, without any bluster or heroics. And apart from that, it was extremely interesting to see just how it is all done.
On Thursday morning I took my Scotch tweed over to Leighton to the tailor, to have it made up. I hope he will do it all right. He had made a number of things for Pam which are all quite good, and it is much the best place to go really, as it is so handy for fittings, and not likely to get bombed. There is apparently enough stuff to make a waistcoat as well, which might be very useful.
The Smith’s here got in an odd lot of Everyman’s library, including Richardson’s ‘Clarissa’, which I could not resist buying. I got the first volume, thinking that in a place like this the others would probably still be there when and if I wanted them. I read the first and found it very interesting, in spite of being a bit slimy, and more than a bit sententious, but when I went to get the second volume, it had gone, so I said to the girl it was funny someone should start at the second, and she said ‘Oh, lots of people never both to look at what they’re getting’ If that was the case, they didn’t get much this time. It is however, really very readable, and I may get through the whole four volumes, which are scarcely longer than ‘Gone with the wind’ I should think. I think it was lucky the young ladies in the book didn’t have typewriters, or their letters might have been twice as long and diffuse. I am chiefly interested to see how much influence the book has had on the ‘impassioned Diderot’ and other eighteenth century French authors.
I had a batch of letters from Brisbane the other day, coming after the ones from the Tamborine mountain, although they had all come by sea. I like very much the new verse to the prune song, so I copied it out before sending the letter to Richard.
With much love
from
Annette
From Annette to Parents (Pencil note by LJT: Rcd 9/12/41)
14th September 1941
Dear Parents,
I had this week Mother’s letter number 22, which came after no. 23 last week, which seems funny, also a letter from Papa, from the Eagle Heights too. I must hasten to defend myself from his reproaches of having cheated. When writing letters in the ordinary way I do not look, but when doing the exercises I find the temptation almost too much, because I am not used to having the middle line as my base, having learnt on the double bank typewriter, and so using the top line of letters as the base. Anyhow my good resolutions of doing excercises have come to practically nothing.
I am now typing downstairs for the benefit of the two children in the house, who are most intrigued by this machine, but in consequence I can think of nothing to say, what with questions as to why I don’t write in red and so on. One is leaning over now, but fortunately she cannot read, at least not more than a few words of one syllable, so I can still say what I like.
I hear from Aunt that a parcel has arrived from Australia, but I don’t know if it is the food or the clothes, for either of which I thank you in advance. The clothes particularly will be very welcome, especially the cardigan, as the only one I have is all worn away on the sleeves. I was only thinking the other day that a jumper and cardigan set is rather a nice thing, so thank you very much for such a nice birthday present.
This has been a pretty quiet week. Last week I went over to the Roscoes on my day off, and spent the time turning my most ancient blue skirt, which comes up quite well on the inside. It seem ridiculous that a garment I had when I was fourteen, I think, should have to have inches cut off top and bottom, and all the seams to make it look presentable for present fashions. I used the electric sewing machine which is fascinating, but devilish, although one knows it will stop if one takes ones foot off the pedal. I stayed to supper, but came away fairly early as I wanted to get in to fencing. There is a team competition in about a fortnight, and so we have to get as much practice as possible, apart from its being very enjoyable. Each department has a team, at least, about six that have anyone who fences at all, and I am the third member of mine, as the only others are absolute beginners. I think it will be rather an ordeal, but I don’t feel quite so idiotic now when standing up to fight, and maybe it won’t be so bad. Apparently various shining lights in the fencing world are coming down to judge and to give a display. It seems to show a very nice kind of spirit that they should bother to come down and look at such a lot of beginners, and they appear to enjoy it too.
There was a pause then for the singing of various rounds which Jean or I have learnt in Guides, but we are not capable of singing them as rounds ourselves, especially as Mary does not know them at all.
I am quite pleased with life at the moment, because I have been put onto some other work, so that I don’t have to work rigidly to a time table, but can go onto whichever shift I like, and at last I can work at the same time as Helen, instead of only seeing her occasionally. An immediate advantage is that instead of being on the night shift the week of the fencing competition, I can stay on days. Also I can have whichever day off I like in the week. This coming week I am having Tuesday, and Sheila and I are going up to town, where she has got to have a fitting for a uniform, and I want to go to Shott’s music shop and get some more music for recorders, if they have got any, and to the Linguaphone and get one of the attachments for cutting out the sound like Papa has got, which will be useful not only for the Linguaphone but also for listening to music in the evenings after Mrs Evans has gone to bed, because she goes about 9.0.
We intend to go to a Chinese restaurant Sheila knows off for lunch, and then to the International Ballet, and then to some other nice place for tea, and possibly somewhere else for dinner, the whole day in fact revolving round places to eat.
I like the additional sentences for the alphabet, also the extract from Scenes of Clerical life, which I must practise, seing the number of mistakes I have made in this letter, although there has been some excuse in the constant interruptions.
With much love f
from
Annette.
P.S. I regret to say that my chief motive in starting Russian was not utilitarian, but a desire to see if the literature is as crazy in the original as it is in English. I have for some years avoided reading any of the longer novels in translation, with this idea in mind.
From Annette to Parents (Pencil note by LJT: Rcd 27-1-42)
29th September 1941
Dear Parents,
I was thinking I would have some nice music and finish off the collar of a bright blue cotton jumper I am making, when I discovered that four of the records of my Beethoven Seventh Symphony have somehow got broken, whether it was Mrs Evans or I who have lumped something down hard on them in their case. Apart from the cost, which is about 30/-, it has given me such a turn that I haven’t the heart to play anything else, so I will write to you straight away instead of later as I had planned.
I am sorry I did not write last week, but what with one thing and another I could not settle down to writing at all. Firstly I had letters from Aunt and Mr Cape saying that Miss Martindale says there are much better post going in the Civil Service at the moment, and advises me to get in touch with her about it. This all put me into quite a turmoil of spirit, having had no idea of changing, and being quite happy to stay here till the end of the war. But in a way it seemed like the finger of fate, because we have been discussing the work lately amongst ourselves, and had concluded that much too high qualifications are demanded for most of it, and that really at present Helen and I in particular are very much overpaid. The work is interesting enough, but can be done perfectly well by girls who have just left school, as long as they have reasonable intelligence, and although we do not wish to exaggerate our capabilities, they are not what you might call put to any strain. But I had not thought of looking round for anything else, because I thought we were now bound to stay in whatever reserved occupation we were already in, and also because I have met quite a number of girls working in other ministries who have practically nothing to do. However, it will be very interesting to hear from Miss Martindale. I asked if I might go and see her, but perhaps she will be too busy for that.
The second cause of agitation, of quite another order, was the team fencing competition between the different sections, of which the preliminary rounds were fought on Tuesday and Thursday and the final on Saturday. There were three people in a team, and six sections had managed to get teams together. It was all great fun in a way but I was very apprehensive about it, because I generally fight so badly unless really desperate with the though of what a fool I shall look unless I do a bit better, and then getting really warmed up I find I enjoy it after all. The captain of my team is one of the people who loathes competitions so much that she really goes to pieces compared with her usual form when just having friendly bouts. The third, or rather the second member of the team, for I am very much third, says she enjoys matches, but she is rather wild, and was so on Saturday. There were four teams in the final, and each team plays every other, with six matches therefore, consisting of six individual bouts each. We lost two matches 5-4, and nearly every bout got to 3-all (the first one to get four points wins. I think it is the first to get five in men’s matches), and were thus very gloomy. I was so chiefly for Betty’s sake, the captain, because she has a reputation to live up to, and did not do so. However we felt we redeemed ourselves slightly by beating our last opponents 6-3, when even I became as it were inspired and won two fights, but it was annoying to think that the team we beat had beaten another team that beat us, if you can work that out. However, greatly to our astonishment we were second in the end, and each got a little silver cup as a momento, the first team having got the little challenge cup presented by the fencer who came to judge, and individual ones of course, so in the end I was quite pleased, for I could feel that I had helped to scrape us second by winning those last two fights, although of course on the other hand if I had fought a little better sooner, we might have won, but then both the others could say the same. I seem to be spending a lot of time on this account, but it has loomed very large, ridiculously so in a way, and yet I feel it is quite an event for me to have achieved anything at a sport, so that I haven’t felt so pleased for a long time.
This final was really quite a do apart from our matches, for Margery Pollock-Smith who runs the fencing had got the English sabre champion, and a Czech international finalist to come and judge, and to give demonstration bouts with another international finalist who works here, and various other lights in the fencing world. Of course they are all friends of hers, but it really does seem very nice of such people to bother to come and watch beginners who have not been fencing a year, with two exceptions. The demonstration bouts of epee and sabre were grand fun to watch, just like on the pictures, we all thought. The sabre champion especially would have done for one of the three musketeers with his little moustache and his obvious flourishes for the benefit of the gallery, and which were yet not affected, because he enjoyed it and you enjoyed it too.
Well, I hope I have not bored you, but I still feel some of the enthusiasm of Saturday night. I have the feeling that I ought to have masses of time for other things, although that is, I expect, illusory. Anyhow, writing all this, has made me feel less upset about the records, and I can now regard the breakage with calm.
The event of the week before this was that Sheila and I went up to London for the day. We did a little shopping, and had lunch at a Chinese restaurant, and went to the International Ballet, which was fair, but had none of the magic of the Polish ballet we saw recently or of the Russian ballet, and then to a French restaurant called La Coquille, in St Martin’s Lane, for dinner, which still contrived to be really delicious. It is really rather wicked to go to such a place, perhaps, when many people have such difficulty in getting enough in the ordinary way, let alone all the people in Europe who are practically starving, but it is an exquisite pleasure, and a thing we do not once in six months.
I very nearly forgot all about the various parcels from Australia which came last week, the one of cheese and honey from Sydney, the clothes, and the cheese from Brisbane, for all of which I thank you very much. I could not resist opening my birthday present. it is lovely to have some really nice woollies;; the colour goes with my old green skirt rather than the new, which is more bluish, but it goes with a lot of other things as well. The stockings also will come in very handy. I now have four new pairs of stockings for the winter altogether, and my suit is nearly finished. I am going for the last fitting tomorrow.
I’ll send this off now, although I have quite a lot more to say, arising out of your letters mostly, but it will keep.
With much love from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents (Pencil note by LJT: Rcd 25/1/42)
Highways
Gt Leighs
6 October 1941
Dear Parents,
There will probably be a lot of peculiar mistakes in this letter, because I am using Annette Websters’ funny little machine which is very old and has only three rows of keys, and I am not used to Fig and Cap.
After all the letters that arrived last week, this week there have been none. I ought really to have brought last week’s batch with me, because I know there were lots of things to talk about arising out of them, especially as there is nothing much else in the way of news, as regards my own doings.
We were all very sad yesterday to hear of Uncle G’s death. It does seem so silly that he should just be killed during manoeuvres like that. We were really surprised to hear that a colonel should be riding about on a motor bicycle, but Michael says that all except the most senior officers have to now. It is very hard to realise. Of course I had not seen a lot of Uncle G., but he was so very nice, I feel sad to think that there is now chance of seeing him again.
I really only decided to come home for the weekend on Friday, after ringing up to see who was going to be here. Gavin is still at home and Michael arrived back from his Bournemouth course on Saturday so there is really quite a party. Apparently Richard said last week that he hoped to get home too, but he did not come, which was a pity. I cannot think what to get him for his birthday. The best thing will perhaps be to look round for a book in London tomorrow morning.
I have had a letter from Miss Martindale, asking me to meet her at her club for tea on Tuesday week, which is very kind of her. So now I just have to wait and see.
You ask in one letter exactly what a recorder is like, so I here leave a space for a picture. It is played similarly to the penny whistle, although it is slightly more refined. There is a complete family, as there is of the strings and the woodwind in a modern orchestra. Recorders actually were the wood wind before flutes and the others were perfected.
On Thursday evening Helen and Irene Reynolds and I went over to Leighton to see ‘Pimpernel Smith’, which is of course, quite ridiculous but I enjoyed it very much, as it has got the real Baroness Orczy atmosphere, and it also does not make the Germans out as quite such fools as many films do. What is the idea of trying to make out your enemy an idiot, when obviously he is not one?
(Here Annette has drawn in ink a sketch of a recorder which looks like her wooden descant one.)
As Aunt hasn’t written to you yet this week, I’ll leave this much to be sent, especially as there is a lot of chat going on, and I can’t collect my thoughts.
With much love, Annette.
From Annette to Parents (Pencil note by LJT: Rcd 26-1-42)
Highways
Gt Leighs
18 Oct 1941
Dear Parents,
Aunt is not going to write this week, as I am here to tell about doings, and she has been very busy, especially as Peg has got chicken-pox, and has to be fetched and carried for. She only felt ill one day really, with back ache, and in a way it is rather a nuisance for her that I have come home this week, because everyone else in the house has had it. Still, she wouldn’t have wanted to move about until today, as she did have a temperature.
I came home unexpectedly on Tuesday, having had a wire from Dicky to say he had his week’s leave, and I could take my Autumn leave when I liked. At least I can take five days now, because Mr Wills is having his this week, and wanted me to be back. I only came on Tuesday instead of Sunday as I had to see Miss Martindale, and it would have hardly been worth while to go up to town again. I came up in the morning, and bought a new hat most extravagantly to go with my new suit, which is very nice, with a most natty waistcoat. it is blue and I got a wine-coloured hat, which will go with quite a lot of things beside. So now I have a smart summer and a smart winter hat. I had early lunch and went to see “49th parallel” which is a very good film, and very good propaganda. Then I walked along Piccadilly to Miss Martindale’s club. She is very nice and very easy to talk to. She had no immediate jobs in mind, but said that when she was recently interviewing people for the administrative grade she thought of me, and that it might be a good idea if I looked around for something that might lead to a permanency, even though I am actually earning as much as I would be as an Assistant Principal. In the end we decided that I should write to various girls from Oxford who are in different ministries, to see how they are liking their work, so that if I were interviewed, I should have some idea of what I want to do. Then I am to write to her, and she will see what she can do.
I am writing in pen because I could not resist writing with Annette Webster and Richard both typing away. If only my typewriter were here too, we should have as good a clatter as any office.
We haven’t done very much this week, but it has been very nice. I meant to do a lot of sewing, but I haven’t, but have lazed about and eaten apples. About a day we spent picking rose-hips for sending up to be made into vitamin food for children. We found a rough patch near the wood, bull of bushes, and picked altogether 30 lbs. They were the most glorious colour all heaped up in the baskets.
Today is Aunt’s birthday, and we are giving her apple trees for it, but they aren’t here yet, because Keith Seabrooke has first got to advise her which to have and how many for the lawn.
Tonight we are going over to the chase; John Macbeth is coming to make the fourth in the party, and we are joining up with Terence Neely’s party.
I have now got my photographs, and I shall send you the small set of six, and two enlargements, which were considered to be the best, but I can always get any others at any time, if you want any. I will send off one a week, so that some will get to you, if not all.
I believe I am already too late for the Christmas mail, so I had better just send best wishes for the new Year, and hope they reach you.
With much love from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents (Pencil note by LJT: Rcd6/2/42)
30th October 1941
Dear Parents,
At last some more of your letters have come, the last two posted from Australia. Also I have had another packet of travel pamphlets, which are very nice to look at. I must first thank you for all your kind gifts and good wishes. The black opals sound lovely, and I should certainly like mine set as a ring. I will send you the size as soon as I go to the jeweller’s but it has been so cold and blustery these last few days that I have not been down to the shops at all. This evening it has turned to rain. I meant to go to fencing, to which I have not been for a long time, owing to leave and one thing and another, but as I opened the door it was pouring, so I turned back in a cowardly fashion. Still, if I had gone, I probably shouldn’t have written, and I ought to have done so last week.
It seemed in a way silly to go away again so soon after I had got back from leave, but I decided to go to Oxford for my birthday, and landed at Christina’s digs on Tuesday evening without having sent any warning. Luckily the attic in the house was unoccupied, so I stayed two nights. Christina and two other girls working at Chatham House have a very nice room each, and the landlady is all that could be desired. It is also a nice cheap place to stay, only 5/- a night, which is wonderful for Oxford in these days.
On Wednesday I spent the morning in the bookshops, and got a book all about knitting for Romey for her birthday. She has so many books on dogs and cats that I gave up the idea of another one. I met Christina and Esther for lunch, and then went to see “The doctor’s dilemma” at the New Theatre. it was pretty well done, but I don’t think it’s one of Shaw’s best plays. it was chiefly interesting because Vivien Leigh was in it, and she is always so pretty that it doesn’t matter very much what the play is like. I went down to Merton, but Gavin was out as usual. In the evening we went to a concert of Haydn quartets, which was very charming, although to my unpractised ear they are all very similar. Then we had a birthday party, with a somewhat scratch meal, as it had only been thought of late in the day. For a birthday cake there was a cream bun stuck full of violets, and the table was set about with little pink parcels, containing such things as a notebook, sealing wax, soap, bath cube, and so on. Also a Penguin book of very amusing caricatures, the one we liked best being a Max Beerbohm drawing of Wordsworth in the lake district. Esther also gave me a Medici postcard of a Rousseau picture of men fishing. His pictures always strike me as ugly and childish at first but they have a beautiful placidity that grows on one. Richard has one in Byways, of boats on a river, but I think he only got it for his 21st birthday.
I am going to Oxford again next week, to see the Sadlers Wells Opera, or hear, whichever one says. Last week we saw they were coming, and we arranged that Christina was to go and book seats for “The marriage of Figaro” as soon as possible. I heard today she has got them for Friday 7th, and also booked me the attic for that night. This was the opera we had out on gramophone records my last term at Oxford, so we sang all the songs we could remember last Wednesday evening too. This I look forward to as a real treat.
On Friday evening I went to see “Lady Hamilton”, on which I think the best comment is that of Irene Reynolds, who said very pointedly “A most original story”. On Monday I went to the pictures again with Helen to see “Dangerous moonlight,” a very well-done picture about a Polish pianist who becomes an airman. It was very moving, and yet had nice touches of humour. Irene said it almost reconciled her to Poles, who are mostly objectionable, but we pointed out the lack of logic, as Anton Wallbrook, who acts the Pole, is Austrian.
I have also read a number of not particularly remarkable books, the best of which was “The place of little birds” by Michael Home, a novel about the Libyan desert, which reminded both me and Irene, who read it after me, of John Buchan. But I did come across a book some weeks ago that I liked very much, “Seven Gothic tales”, by Isaak Dinesen, translated, I think from the Danish, and full of beautiful thoughts, though a bit precious. “Clarissa” I have abandoned as too smug and slimy to be borne at the moment, but in a time of less stress I may finish it, to see how she contrives to win round her cruel family and die in the odour of sanctity.
Nov 2nd
It was really just as well I didn’t finish this the other day, because I had from Aunt the next day your first letters from India, and also the pound for my birthday, for which I meant to thank you specially at the beginning of this letter. it is so very kind of you to give that as well as the clothes I feel I have not words to thank you properly for so many lovely presents.
You will probably have got one or two of my photos by the time you get this. I am sorry about the earrings. I meant to take them off half way through, but all six were done so fast I forgot. Anyhow I should like to know why earrings are more objectionable than any other form of jewellery. But I did wish to defer to Papa’s taste in the photograph, even though I intend to wear them as long as I have my hair drawn back. It was in no flaunting spirit that I left them on for the pictures. Perhaps they could be touched out if too objectionable.
With much love
from
Annette.
From Annette to Parents (Pencil note by LJT: Rcd 10/2/42)
16th November 1941
I have had the firm intention of writing to you every evening this week, but I have been working rather late, and have been even less inclined than usual to write letters, once I have got in.
I have not much to write of in this fortnight, except for my day in Oxford last Friday. I got to Oxford about 3.0, and found Gavin in, so we had tea together very agreeably at Fuller’s. Also I met Gerard Irvine, but he had another tea engagement. I am asked, however, to his birthday party on the 23rd , to which I think I shall go, as I am going to see Christina take her degree on the 22nd. All the Drakes are coming and there is to be a dinner party in the evening. As for last Friday, I went after tea to Christina’s digs, and met her and Esther and two friends and we all went to the theatre, which was even better than we had expected. The main requirement of opera for me was fulfilled, that is, that the singers should not be fat, and apart from that they all sang very nicely, and so clearly that one could follow all the words, and acted well, and the setting and costumes were charming and in fact the whole thing was delightful. The music is anyway so nice, and there was nothing to spoil it. The Sadlers Wells company always sing in English, it appears, and the translation of “Figaro” was excellently done. It didn’t sound strained or silly anywhere. Of course it is a comic opera, so I suppose not so difficult to do as a tragic one, but as it was, there was no more strain and nearly as much laughter, in listening to it, as there is in listening to Gilbert and Sullivan. Dicky has sent me two record tokens for my birthday so I think I might get some of the songs out of “Figaro”. Another nice present was £3 from Uncle Bous, who suddenly remembered that Gavin and I were 21 last year, as Betty is this. It really is extremely kind of him to bother about it now.
I came back from Oxford on Saturday morning, as I wanted to get back to work, and I thought that to go to London with Christina would mean rather an expense, and a lot of travelling, and I shall spend a fair amount staying two days in Oxford next week-end.
I have not written to Miss Martindale yet, but I must do so soon, and I rather think I shall not try and leave after all. It would mean apparently a great deal of fuss, and several people’s applications to go into other war work have been refused, and it isn’t as if I were unhappy or anything. Also Helen and I were thinking that we shall take our courage in both hands and go and demand to be given more to do. I was loaned temporarily to another department and had a very interesting time, but it appears to be over for the moment. Still, I don’t really want to leave, on mature consideration, and as for thoughts of future careers I don’t think it should really weigh at all, considering how many people have thrown up all chances for the moment, and are not leading half such comfortable lives, as we are here, or would be in another branch of the Civil Service. I must make up my mind finally in a few days.
I won’t go on, for I really have no more to say.
Much love from Annette
P.S. I got my finger measured at a jewellers. He said most jewellers have the same standard, called “Wheatsheaf”. Mine was Wheatsheaf “H”, or this round (ink line drawn in to show length)