I wish I’d been home for the pheasant shooting …

Dick Whittington

06/01/1919                                                           HMB

My Dearest Mother

I should have written before but I have had a ganglion removed from my wrist last Thursday and the stitches were only taken out this morning. I had a day off yesterday and went down to stay at our new VAD club with another girl from here who knows the Forrests. She is quite a nice kid recently arrived, her name is Elliot-Birks: her people live in Yorkshire somewhere. We had dinner in the town and then went to the cinema (forbidden by regulations but done by everyone) I had brekker in bed and then strolled around the town, had lunch and then Fraser came down ( she only had half a day) we went to another movie show, had tea at the club and then home. The films of the French Army cinema service are most thrilling but I should love to see the surrender of the Hun fleet and our own army of occupation.

08/01/1919 This has just not got finished somehow, Monday night Fraser and I went to the annual pantomime at no1 BMTW. It was Dick Whittingdon and simply top hole. The cat was a professional who happens to be in the RASC –  MT , the girls parts were played by the WAACS. It was simply wonderful quite as good as any provincial professional panto. We enjoyed ourselves immensely then came home part way in a 3 ton lorry with mobs of tommies, and walked the rest of the way home.

Last night we had a fancy dress party and invited some of the doctors, I went as Omar Khayyam, Fraser went with another girl as golliwogs with stockinette masks. It was a howling success, the costumes were all home productions, some of them simply splendid. We had a giddy evening and enjoyed ourselves no end. That makes two nights that I’ve gone to bed about 1 & got up in time for 7am brekker so I am a bit sleepy. Weren’t the election results ripping. We have been throwing our hats in the air, Archie’s majority was a huge triumph, fancy Lincoln City returning a Unionist!!

The man who outed old Asquith is Fraser’s cousin, so she is tremendously bucked. I’m returning Mr Leisching’s letter to Father: I wish I’d been home for the pheasant shooting, however I shall make up for lost time next season. I think I wrote and thanked you for sugar, stockings and socks which were splendid.

I must dry up now.

Best love to you all

Your loving Dorothy.

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Mrs T

Beyond the day job, and the garden, I love to delve into local and family history. While pursuing one project other snippets frequently distract me, resulting in the eclectic mix of tales from the past found here.

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