“Talma”,
Sheering Mill Rd.
Letter no. 44. Sawbridgeworth,
Herts.
2nd July, 1945
My darling,
It was quite a mail-day today – with your letter came the one I had been expecting from the Embassy, and also Election literature. Before I deal with the others I want to write to you as I am a little behind schedule.
Yesterday Moreen and I returned from our week’s vacation in Sussex, and today has been spent resettling into the usual routine of the office. For a week I relaxed and forgot all about work, and it’s marvellous how one returns to it full of fresh energy and enthusiasm.
First, I’d better tell you something about how we spent our holiday. When I wrote last I told you that I was helping with the N.F.S. Garden Party on the Saturday. It was a hot day, and the sun blazed down on us. All the time I stood in charge of my particular sideshow – The Wheel of Fortune collecting warm pennies, I was thinking how wonderful it would be in the swimming-pool. I made my excuses quite early to avoid the dancing and went home to pack.
On Sunday Moreen and I traveled up to London where we stayed overnight to split our journey and we went on to Lewes, in Sussex, next morning. It was very hot while we were in London, so that it was as much as we could do to stagger from the Ice-cream parlor to the shade of the trees in Green Park. When it became cooler in the evening we went along to Hyde Park, where we spent a very amusing and entertaining evening listening to the “soap-box orators”, who vied with each other in collecting congregations of interested spectators.
There were political groups, religious and hymn-singing parties – all of which were being over-ridden by a crowd intent on plain community-singing, for no apparent reason. Then as it was getting dusk we walked back through London’s streets to our hotel.
We arrived at my aunt’s house next day in time for lunch, and after settling ourselves in went walking over the Downs, and through the quaint old town of Lewes which boasts a castle more or less in ruins and some old cobbled lanes lined with houses dating from the 14th and 15th century. The South Downs, which run down to the sea in Sussex, are chalky; the contours are wonderful. There’s not the ruggedness of mountain but a soft rolling outline, and a wonderful light and shadow in the curves.
Having settled in only eight miles from the English Channel, we decided that first of all we must swim. On Tuesday it became cloudy, but we felt very brave and ventured into the sea at Brighton; on Wednesday it became colder, but we had our swim in the sea, being the only two foolish enough to venture at that particular time; we also took a bus further along the coast to explore another village but found when we arrived that it was early closing day, and that the beach was still closed owing to unexploded mines. So we stayed long enough to have our ice-cream, and returned to Brighton.
On Thursday we decided to visit Eastbourne, the coastal town in the other direction. I had not realised the bomb damage that these Southern coastal towns had suffered, but here the evidence was over-whelming. Moreen and I battled our way along the Front, but for once decided against swimming. Then it began to rain, and we sought refuge (as women do) in a large store, where we could window-shop to our heart’s content. I really wanted shoes, but somehow it seemed all quotas were sold. The ride back in the bus to Lewes was lovely; on the way we passed the “Long Man of Wilmington”- a huge figure carved out on the hillside in the chalk. He did rather look as though he needed weeding, but he was still plainly visible for miles.
On Friday we did a roundabout trip which was really the lovliest. We started by catching a bus to Seaford – a coastal village, where the ice cream is pretty good! From there, when we had looked around we walked out of the village up to what the local people call Hindover but which on the old map is described as “High and Over”.
Gradually we climbed up away from the sea until, with a suddenness which took our breath away, we were looking down into a lovely wooded valley, in the centre of which stood the old smuggling village of Alfriston, the quaint old houses clustered round the church spire. Across the valley rose the softly modulated heights of the downs, and through the valley curved the River Cuckmere, and there by the chalky white cliffs the river widened slightly and flowed into the English Channel. It was a wonderful picture – a word description cannot do justice to the wonderfully soft coloring, the mingling of light and shade, and the splash of vivid red of a poppy field. I just wished you could have been there too – I wanted you so much. We sat in silence for an hour or so, all the time wishing the ones we loved could have been with us to share the beauty of it.
At last we had to tear ourselves away, and we wandered slowly down into the valley, through the picturesque village of Alfriston with its cobbled streets, and famous Star Inn, and on until we came to a well known place called Drusilla’s Tea Barn, where we stayed for tea. It was grand; lots of old fashioned brass, and willow-plate, and an ingle-nook fire-place. After tea, with homemade scones and cakes, we walked on, to the main road where we caught a bus back to Lewes.
On Saturday, being almost at the end of our holiday we were persuaded to visit another sea-side village. It was quaint. We wanted to swim again before we came home, but the sea was too rough. So we compromised by changing into our swim suits and playing about on the rocks; of course Moreen had to slip on the seaweed and fall in, thereby getting wet all over. The wind was blowing the sea up in unfriendly waves so we sat at the edge waiting for the tide to come in, only retreating for very violent waves. But the tide came in so rapidly we had to make a quick withdrawal and dress before we were cut off from the promenade. Even walking up there we were almost drenched with the salt spray and buffeted by the wind.
How far, incidentally, is Arcata from the sea? For swimming I prefer fresh water, but the sea is fun and very invigorating.
Unfortunately, on Sunday when we had to return it rained, but we managed to take a walk and tell the Downs goodbye.
Today, I received the form from the Embassy, and when I have completed it I shall feel that I have really begun to get things started – no doubt it will take some time, but even a start means progress.
I don’t know how closely you are following our political situation, nor quite what your country’s attitude is, but it’s drawing rapidly nearer to the Election date. This will be the first time I have had an opportunity to record a vote. The trouble with our politics is that we have to choose the party, not the man, and the politicians are deliberately trying to confuse the issue. This is a bad time to hold an Election in some ways; in other ways it might be a good opportunity. It seems it might be rather a close thing.
Your systems of “Health insurance” are interesting, and I should imagine quite effective.
After reading your letter about the employment of stenographers, etc, it would rather seem I am wasting my time here, wouldn’t it? But, darling, an efficient secretary doesn’t have to “save the boss’s neck when he forgets an appointment” – she’s there to see he doesn’t forget. A busy man can’t worry with little things like that – don’t I know?
Normally, in peacetime the majority of English women devote their time to the house and family. Of course, wartime had upset that a lot, but what is the American angle on the “Career-after-marriage” girl? I realise that in general you have more labour-saving devices in the home than we have, the lack of which does restrict an English wife’s activities, so that few of them have time to work after marriage.
Also in a small place like Arcata, are there any special activities in which a school teacher’s wife is expected to interest herself? Could you, some time, sort of roughly outline the life you expect we shall lead, so that I can formulate an idea of what to expect.
Whilst we were in London, I called in at Rainbow Corner to enquire about the Club for wives and fiancées of American service men and was told that we were welcome on the 2nd Tuesday of each month, in the evening. Unfortunately this is rather impossible.
Must go now darling; I do seem to have rambled an awful lot tonight.
Until next time, all my love.
Joan.
