A.A. Laporte Payne letter to Muriel 28 October 1917
It is a very cold day and I an all on the shiver – do you ever get the shivers? The Doctor is writing home also. He writes “I am too cold to write any more. Au revoir.” And goes and sits by the fire.
Teatime will soon be here. I have left my combined office, boudoir and bedroom, it is much too draughty – and am sitting in the mess which is not much better but it has a fire. Through the window which is lacking glass I can see a farm a short way away being horribly shelled with 5.9” Howitzer. I hope they like it.
Thank you very much for your last letter. You are getting as bad as me in forgetting the date.
Fancy you being frightened of me – to be vulgar – I don’t think. It is rather the other way round. Why did you suddenly make that resolution – what circumstance or process of thought caused you to be suddenly so very definite? It’s a very poor compliment to pay me don’t you think? I can’t imagine anyone being frightened of me – what do I say or do that make me such an objectionable person!
Really I don’t think you are a bit – perhaps it was that you wanted something to say to annoy me – now I am being horrid so I must kneel and ask you to forgive me.
How are you all? Is Mrs Cross any better than she was?
The doctor keeps interrupting me and asking me to listen to a joke in a paper he is reading. Don’t you hate people who will persist in reading extracts from books or papers that you can read when you want to? Especially when you are doing something else – and that so important as writing to you.
In case you should be thinking of sending me out any literature please don’t do so just at present. I am so busy and I have quite enough to go on with for the present thanks to you.
I want to know whether you did read Franklin’s book.
After strenuous labours the Doctor managed to mend the gramophone last night – so to sooth us we had music (?) from “Bubbly” and “Zig-zag”. We needed something of the kind last night – the atmosphere was very rarefied.
I see poor old Trevor Pearse had been wounded – one can’t go on for ever I suppose. I hope it is not serious.
With all my love darling
& many kisses
Do you want to see me again or was last leave too much for you?