Croft Dec 31st 41

My Dearest Willie

The jolly yellow gloves & blue scarf have reached me safely in perfect order & I love them & thank you very much for sending them they are as welcome as early daffodils, in fact I thought they were daffys, & made me jump like the lambs outside in the snowy fields at the first sign of Spring. You couldn’t have sent me anything more cheery warm & daring to help me through this Zero hour now upon us.

England is reeling under the staggering onslaught of Sunday night’s raid on the City. News is just coming through of the destruction & heroism of the people. I enclose a guarded understatement from a friend straight from the horse’s mouth. She is head of the big Training College with offices in the City & goes to & fro every day from the West End in tin hat & all complete. Heroic woman among thousands of other heroines doing their job. Bristol also has been badly knocked about & has just had its 3rd Raid & now looks like a Roman Ruin. Victims in flight pass through the village, from door to door seeking shelter any shelter. One is told stories of shattered homes. Deluge of Rain through the Roof. A terrible draught through the blasted windows. Splinters of glass on carpet well! You can imagine it all. An earthquake is Mother’s milk to it all. I feel a worm when I think of heroic friends & wish I dare leave my comparative safety for a reputable job somewhere useful but I am not too well & have to look after myself. I have my good moments.

The lovely Guildhall has gone beyond recall. Memory goes back a long way. Tonight, to the day 40 yrs ago, when I was taken by dear old Mr Spence to see Gog & Magog. Like most of us from over seas I was not greatly impressed. That came later. I rather believe Ethel MacLaren was with us. Funny old blighters they were, who came down at midnight from their pedestals & walked around, but so beloved & dear. I shall not to try to answer your 2 letters dated Nov: & Dec the ‘something’ weather is snowing hard turning cold & this letter I began this afternoon I am finishing by the fire. If I get up to refer to your letters the spell will break. How very good the snap you sent me yourself, Mr Pears & Dougal - “in step”. You look firm & lean & in great shape & how young! The villa is awe inspiring. I hoped you were living in a whare with a jackaranda tree & lots of picanninnies sitting around. If I come out, ever, I'll go NATIVE & bring my yellow gloves along. I am feeling so tragic. I have gone dotty. No need for tragedy. The Wireless breathes hope & victory but oh! the price we pay.

SIDE NOTE
If not too personal tell Mr Pears that I am having difficulty getting his Father’s soap & any other make as well.

Christmas has slipped past. In the end I decided to stay on here hoping I might have some company but travel was risky. I had dinner (curtailed one) sent in from the village & I kept my spirits up with homebrewed cider not bad at all if it hadn’t fizzed it all over the place anywhere but the tumbler. I tried 3 bottles 4½ each that makes 1/1½, dear for war time. Food is getting, hope temporarily, scarce especially since the Bristol Raid & stocks in shops are running down. Our own little store is a skeleton. No Christmas goods at all. Hard on the children. To give you some idea how difficult housekeeping is no fish of any sort, only tinned, no fruit. I have had 2 oranges in one month. Cheese a rarity, eggs dear & few. Milk about the same. Butter rationed. No cooked meats & so on. I have porridge for breakfast & vegetables from garden & small portion of meat when the butcher honours us with a call & for the most part after this, white powder, lots of that in between meals Vitamin B to keep life in me.
One of my most valued presents has been a tin of Barley Sugar from Harrods who still keep the old flag flying. Another & valuable present was a rich plum cake perhaps from N Z stamps & wrapping gone only my address left. It may have travelled a long way. I wish I knew who sent it perhaps dear Issy and as we are both of us going “down hill”, her words, a plum cake seems the very thing doesn't it? Any way it was frightfully kind of whoever sent it & will help out the iron Rations if we reach that stage. There is a cupboard in this cottage in the wall, with emergency rations if communication is cut. Any thing may now happen in forcing a decision. I will cable if anything catastrophic happens or get some one to do it for me. News to me that Berkeley Sq: Bank was burnt out. They gave me an alternative address some months [ago].
I have just had a cheque from a New Zealander from Chch. Raymond by name who commissioned 6 months ago a picture intended for collection. She is in England. To be presented to Chch Gallery in memory of her late Father. I have only just been able to complete & send it to her. She is enthusiastic. I especially like cutting you sent me from the nice young musical gent from Governors Bay. He sounds alright and it alright sounds . You might send me one of your brand of “Listeners”. I have sent you several lots of Listeners hope they have got thro . Tell me. I see one N Z mail is lost. I hope things will not get active in the Pacific. It looks exciting, but Singapore should fix the Japs. Hitler is bound to egg them on to devilry most vile. They don’t need pushing. Well this is a proper silly sort of letter. There has not been much revelry for any of us. Have you had my Nov letter written before my visit to Herefordshire. I enjoyed it but had to curtail it on account of evacuees here who showed signs of breaking up the place & pinching things generally but who had cleared out an hour before I got back. I met Priestley there. He looked a tired man - fresh no not fresh - from his Broadcasts thro’ night raids. Shame the talks are stopped. I thanked him as one of millions for the pleasure he had given us. He said well you have given me as much pleasure as you say I have given you. I have 2 of your Pictures. He has 4 daughters, the oldest rather a beauty the others not so, at this school. He smoked his pipe & looked sleepy with fatigue. He roused himself to look at a home made Greek play by the elder girl dressed in sheets with ugly white masks slashed with red & emerald green paint incredibly revolting. I heard him say, winking, The girrls were a lot better looking in those days - good Yorkshire. I wish I could have spent the winter up there but I couldn’t face the cold & climate. They wanted me to teach painting for a bit. I wish it had been possible. I may return in the Spring. The School has about 20 of my pictures - pretty good isn't it? I must stop & go to bed. Send it on to Sis. I don't want to bother her to write. I know she hates writing letters. I'll try and send
a p.c as often as possible - Remember days are short & precious 9 30 - to 4. 30.
Love and many thanks for gloves the world’s yellowest & scarf world’s bluest. Glad I'm not colour blind. Enclosed snap of D Selby & self. She looks a tramp same as self but is really a handsome person.

The cottage is full of evacuees for the holiday, from Bristol & more or less strange homeless women bombed from their work.