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  • Flea Market Love Letters

January 30th, 1946.



[…] Portsmouth, England. 


Dearest Harry, 

Hi there, thought I’d scribble a few lines to find out if you are alive and kicking–last letter from you was dated 10th December –and you know “it’s been a long, long time”– what goes–or comes?


Least you can do is take pity on a poor lonely little kid– and write to me sometimes. Glancing back through your last letter I come across the sentence– quote– but I’m sure you won’t have to wait so long for my next letter– unquote– well how’s about it Toots??!!


How are Lillian-Dave and Alan? Give them my love please. 


I don’t know how things are over your side of the “pond”– but this side is blooming awful- there’s the biggest epidemic of ‘flu that I can remember right now I’m home nursing mom with it and believe me she’s awful sick– its just impossible to get a nurse– and still more impossible to get any laundry done– so I’ve done the next best thing– did the laundry myself–boy what a job too!!


Have you any employment yet? Old Boy– I guess not–cause from what we hear on the news from the States– the strikes are really drastic.


There are so many thousands out of work through it. 


A kid I used to be at school with left on Saturday with the other G.I.B’s for the States– we went up to the docks to wave a last farewell and the faces peering over the sides struck me as being particularly funny- some even cried when they had to leave their parents– which I think is damned ridiculous, as one moment they are kicking up that they want to go across and join their husbands– then when they get the opportunity to go they don’t want to leave their families– that is understandable – but my feeble brain still registers “nuts”.

These few pages will probably be as boring as heck– as I am in the throes of doing the house-work– but I’m pretty sure you’ll excuse some–you dear boy!!!


Maybe when you get a couple of minutes to spare from your busy life you’ll think of me and write me a page or two – huh? 


Well old bean–smells as if the meats and spuds are “done” so I’ll partee for now– my love to Lillian etc. 


Good-bye-now

Love, 

Sandy

P.S. Hate to harp on it but how about that picture you promised me??? You rogue!! I’m still waiting

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