{"id":3672,"date":"2024-04-15T08:50:56","date_gmt":"2024-04-15T08:50:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/trevorgreenwood.co.uk\/tg\/?page_id=3672"},"modified":"2024-04-28T11:50:13","modified_gmt":"2024-04-28T11:50:13","slug":"letter-10-11-45","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/trevorgreenwood.co.uk\/tg\/november-1945\/letter-10-11-45\/","title":{"rendered":"Letter 10.11.45"},"content":{"rendered":"

No. 7925934. Sgt. Greenwood.
\nC Sqdn, 9th Battn R.T.R.
\nB.A.O.R.<\/p>\n

10.11.45<\/p>\n

Saturday<\/p>\n

Jess Darling: Do you remember the name “Boh”? I suppose you do: it was Mrs Boh who used to make those colossal fruit tarts – and who used to scold me for smoking – and who was everlastingly talking to me in Dutch. And she and her husband had a passion for “Ludo”… And in spite of everything, both of them were in tears when I said good-bye – and we left Brunssum… Well – I’ve just sent them a little present – a mixture of odds and ends – soap, choc, ciggys, razor blades, tooth paste, couple of hankys, a bottle of Bovril, and boot polish: I know they can’t buy these things and am sure they will be acceptable. I decided to send them when I learned that one of our lads was spending his leave in Brunssum: he departed this morning. I don’t know whether it is really wise to perpetuate these brief friendships – but I couldn’t resist the temptation to send them a little reminder of their kindness to me.<\/p>\n

Jess – today I have your letter of the 4th and it is now obvious – even to this thick-skulled husband, – that the question of visitors has become a serious menace to your well-being. I regret now having written to you about “tolerance” and “kindness”. In principle, I suppose there was something in what I said… but principles often have to go by the board in cases of emergency… and that is why you and I will have to ignore principle. This constant pestering by Mrs Roberts – and yes, John and Stan – will have to stop. You need a rest, my dear – a long rest and freedom from having your life and activities interfered with more or less at the whim of outsiders.<\/p>\n

I feel annoyed with Mrs Roberts, and I don’t think I will make any attempt to hide my annoyance when I come home. How else will it be possible to keep her away from the house? I believe she is a psychological case, and can still feel a bit sorry for her – but I’m damned if I’m going to tolerate her perpetual interference: she ought to have more sense.<\/p>\n

John and Stan are in a different category: I can’t feel annoyed with either of them – in fact, I’m genuinely sorry for them, and like you, I really want to try and help them. But they will have to be less of a nuisance to you. I feel certain that it will only require a little tact to handle them.<\/p>\n

I have been wondering whether it would be advisable for you and I and Barry to ‘disappear’ for two or three weeks when I get home. It would be one way of ensuring freedom from visitors. But this seems rather like running away from the problem – a problem which will have<\/b> to be faced. Furthermore, I want to be at home<\/b> with you, darling. There is nowhere like home for real privacy (visitors apart!) and for behaving like a complete idiot – if one so desires! You can’t, for instance, behave like a half-wit to entertain a baby, in a hotel or boarding house. No: for a start, I would like to be at home – say until after Xmas – and then we can think about journeying forth – maybe to Parry’s or London, or Blackburn.<\/p>\n

Perhaps visitors will automatically cease to be a menace when I am home. There surely won’t be the same desire on the part of relations to see me, now that I no longer have to return to the army – and possible danger. But if there are signs of pestering, then I will simply have to be quite frank with the culprits. It will be an unpleasant business dear, but I can’t think of a better solution.<\/p>\n

I hope you agree with me darling about getting away from the house after<\/b> we have had the first few weeks together. You do so need a change from those ‘four walls’. I know there will be difficulties about transporting Barry… but there will be two of us – and it won’t be all work. I feel there are bound to be ample compensations for whatever we do for Barry.<\/p>\n

The weather is something we will have to reckon with… but I’m not really worried about it. What does it matter – if we can be together: I would face any blizzard, for the privilege of seeing that lovely glow in your cheeks once again.<\/p>\n

I think Cleveleys wouldn’t be so bad for three or four days: a few long walks along the sea-front would do you a world of good. As for Barry-! To see his lovely little face as he surveys the sea for the first time! What a treat that will be. We might be able to go to London too… but am not so sure about that: I feel tired whenever I think about London!!<\/p>\n

What are we going to do about that back-ache Jess? I don’t like it, and feel damned uneasy about it. The physical discomfort is bad enough for you… but what is the cause<\/b>. I would like to know: I would like you to find out. Will you do so, darling? Please see Shanahan: we will both feel happier to know that there is nothing really wrong.<\/p>\n

You send me some excellent news about Barry: he is in grand health and spirits: a distinct contrast to his dear mummy. Without wishing him any harm, I would much prefer to have things more evenly balanced. But we can’t have everything, can we dear. If it were not for Barry – you wouldn’t be anything like so harassed… but you wouldn’t have the exquisite little pleasures which he has brought into your life. No: you wouldn’t be without the little pest – and neither would I. But there is no reason why you should continue to work like a cart-horse when I am home. That is something we can<\/b> alter.<\/p>\n

I can’t pass much comment upon Rene Potts’ visit. One thing I can understand, and that is your desire to sleep when she is talking: she can’t help being a bore I s’pose… but that is no reason why we should see her more than – well – infrequently: she is alright in small doses. And that reminds me that I am now due for my small dose of sleep. Sunday tomorrow: only two or three Sundays more… and then… Oh Jess: I wish these days were not so long: it is such<\/b> a long time since I saw you… but it can’t be long now…<\/p>\n

Goodnight, my love… My Jess:
\nAlways
\nYour Trevy.<\/p>\n

P.S. Les Challinor took the enclosed snaps during the dinner we provided for the corporals recently: I was mess caterer at the time – and had the ‘privilege’ of serving the wine, hence the bottle.
\nTrevy.<\/p>\n

P.P.S. The “enclosed” Reynolds cutting was not<\/b> enclosed with your letter. I’ll bet I don’t forget my<\/b> enclosure-!!
\nT.<\/p>\n

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