21/2/1917
My Dearest Mother
Has everyone else had spotted fever? What asses Mrs B &L are to be sure.
I hope your cold and chill have quite gone now: you have been rather a poor thing haven’t you. I think John and Elsie are very wise not to come home this year though it is hard for them and us. If the Indian jams bore you dreadfully; we will have them with pleasure!! But don’t send them out just now.
I don’t know if I said much about Beatrice and her woes last time I wrote. What has she got? Muscular arthritis does not and cannot exist!! You might as well say varicose arthritis!! They have either got hold of the wrong end of the stick (not the first time either) or else the Doctor woman has been pulling their legs. Lord preserve me from female doctors: I wouldn’t ever go near one if I could help it.
I don’t know if I thanked you heartily for making up my War Loan to a round sum: I shall refund it to you out of my savings.
I hope that brute Archie B will be sent somewhere very nasty and get something very nasty!!
May’s cigarettes have just arrived, I will write to them at once – I think it will be far the best thing to have the interest on my War Loan paid direct into the Savings Bank. When those beastly bits of brown paper come out here they are always a nightmare to me till I have got them safely signed and posted back again.
I will write to Mrs Baron myself about Matron’s letter. Do you know if Matron said anything about my character or if she merely wrote and signed a statement that I’d done 13 months work? Do ask Mrs B. I was most amused about the Riddall girls: it certainly does serve them right.
I suppose Audrey B is simply raking in the dibs.
I had a long letter from M telling me about her diffs with coal etc.
26/2/1917
I hurried Father’s letter off in order that you should have some news of me, and in the meanwhile received your thrilling letter of the 18th. I do hope your news was true. I still contend that we are no worse off since the final Hun declaration of submarine frightfulness: I could tell you one or two stories, but it would mean my letter being severely censored or perhaps destroyed so I musn’t. However I hope I shall be able to tell you these stories myself sometime before many moons have passed.
I have been terrifically busy this last week: lots of new men with the inevitable examining and radiographing many of them. Yesterday was our Sunday off. We (Tim and I) stayed in bed to brekker and made chocolate and fried eggs on our Tommy’s cookers. Then we did lots of little things till lunch time and after lunch we walked off to a wood we wotted of [old English means we knew of] and dug up primrose roots and brought them home and planted them in the garden.
I was hugely tickled about Michael’s language, I told the story to Tim and she says he takes after his Godmother!!
By the by you will probably have a bill for seeds from Ryder and another from Pennell. I will refund you the money: I have it here in subscriptions from the staff, but thought it would be easier to pay you a lump sum as I don’t know what the postage exps will be or anything. If you will settle their accounts at once when they come in I shall get the seeds quicker that way.
Tim’s brother is ill again with his insides: it is sickening for him poor man as he has only just recovered from two fractured clavicles!! By the by, what happened to Betty Botham’s arm, anything? I suppose not.
The purple stuff arrived on Saturday having been despatched on Jan 10th. I hope it has been long enough!! Tim is now busy cutting it up into lengths and tacking it together
I must dry up now
With best love to you both
Your loving Dorothy
PS Expect me home on leave in about a fortnight to three weeks time: I have just asked and got permission to take from about March 12th – 27th or something of the sort. Now don’t begin to worry about U boats: everyone is taking leave as usual and if I don’t snatch my chance now heaven knows when I shall get any leave. I’m looking forward to it no end and shall prune all the roses and spend your birthday with you which will be ripping.
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