Letter to prisoner of war John Valentine from his wife Ursula
Title
Letter to prisoner of war John Valentine from his wife Ursula
Description
Writes that they are now back in Chalfont St Giles and describes journey home from Devon as well as their activities when after arriving. Mentions going Christmas shopping and then reorganising the house as well as other domestic chores. Goes on with talk of gardening activity and news of her previous lodger. Concludes with mention that daughter has started Sunday school, that they enjoyed their holiday in Devon and she had won a battle with the tax authorities.
Creator
Date
1944-10-08
Temporal Coverage
Spatial Coverage
Language
Format
Two page typewritten letter
Publisher
Rights
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
Identifier
EValentineUMValentineJRM441008
Transcription
Start of transcription
W/O J.R.M. Valentine,
British P/W No. 450,
Stalag Luft III, Germany
[stamp GEPRUFT 113]
[inserted] 5/1 [/inserted]
From Mrs. Valentine,
Felmersham,
Bottrell’s Lane,
Chalfont St. Giles, Bucks.
Sunday, October 8th 1944
My dearest Johnnie,
Here we are safely installed in our own little home again, and how glad I am to be back! We travelled up on Tuesday with Barbara, catching the 7.30 a.m. train, and really it was an unexpectedly pleasant journey, not too crowded at all. I had arranged for Mr. Leveritt to meet us at Seer Green this end, so it was all very trouble-free, and we got home soon after 4 p.m. Barbara started to unpack a bit while I dashed out to get the necessary minimum of food into the house. I had ordered coal a week or two before, and was very glad to find that it had been delivered, so now we have a bit of a stock to help us through the winter. Frances was overjoyed to find all her toys and precious possessions again, but was so tired after the journey that I hadn’t much trouble in separating her from them temporarily and putting her to bed. Of course the house was in a considerable uproar, because we had stuffed a lot of our belongings, Pat’s and mine, into the nursery and locked it up before we went away 3 months ago, still I managed to find the necessary bed linen etc. for the night. The next day, being the last day of Barbara’s leave, we decided that I should postpone my day of reckoning with the housework, lock up and go up to town all together to try to get some Christmas shopping done. This we did, and had a busy day pottering round the shops and contrived to pick up a few presents – we bought a pretty painted bed-tray (i.e. a tray with short legs) for my people, since Mother and Daddy always have a cup of tea in bed in the mornings. I got a wee wooden mangle for Frances, to help her through her dolls’ washing, which I am keeping by me till Christmas, and a few other odds and ends as well. On Thursday morning Barbara had to leave us by an early bus, and when we got back from seeing her off, the battle commenced. I spent the whole day carrying things from here to there, unearthing our special treasures which I had put out of the tenants’ way and generally reorganising the house. Frances helped me manfully, struggling up and down stairs under large loads. The tenants have left the house in surprisingly good condition, the only things they have broken, as far as I have noticed, are two glasses of that lemonade set Uncle Norman and Auntie Meg gave us for a wedding present. It is a pity, but not as bad as it might have been. They seem to have kept the place reasonably clean, except for the oven, which I had to dismantle and clean thoroughly yesterday. The garden has been kept in good order by old Mr. Palmer, from next door, and there are plenty of winter greens coming on. Our tomatoes have done quite well, too, considering what a bad season it has been everywhere for them. I picked a couple of pounds straight off, and there are lots more green or just turning colour, but it is doubtful whether there will be enough warm weather to ripen them now and I think I shall have to bring them indoors to finish off. Our marrows have done quite well too. I grew two or three new sorts this year, a South African and an Argentine marrow, and a Hubbard squash. The South African has turned out to be a round dark green affair, smaller than the ordinary marrow and with a very pleasant flavour indeed. It is definitely worth growing again, and I shall try to save some seed. That is the only one we have eaten yet. There are a few runner beans left on the plants but they are pretty tough, and I think I shall save them for seed too, likewise the French and dwarf beans. The chief job facing me in the garden
[page break]
is the remaking of the herbaceous border, and I hope to start that this coming week. At the moment the flower garden looks quite gay with Michealmas [sic] daisies (several nice varieties as well as the dull ones I hate so) and Golden Rod, and a few late polyanthus roses. I have gathered some lavender for putting into sachets too. I want to alter the screen of roses too, do away with the short untidy posts that are there now and get some decent long ones, 8ft high or so, and train the ramblers up them properly. This ought to give us more shade on the lawn in the summer too, as well as greatly improving the view from the dining room window. Mr. Palmer has harvested the potato and shallot corps for us, we ought to have enough spuds to last most of the winter at our present rate of consumption. In fact I hope not to spend much on vegetables this winter at all. There is no fruit in the garden, the one old-established apple tree was evidently picked clean by the tenants (it is an early cropper), and the total crop of the new trees I planted was one pear which fell off in a high wind the other night. Better luck next year!
Pat Hodson rang up just before I left Salcombe to tell me she has rented a wee cottage at Modbury, where she was staying, for 7/6 per week! Of course it has no mod cons except electricity, but I should think she is very wise to take it and try to settle down for a bit. Now the problem is for her to collect all her belongings which are scattered here and in London, and I like a mutt have undertaken to pack up all her stuff here and have it ready to go off to her by rail. This turns out to be no light task, and I have already put in a good many hours on it. How lovely it will be to have the house all to myself at last, all ready and waiting for you! I am torn between the desire to revel in the privacy and convenience of being on my own, and the desire to earn a spot more money by having someone to live with me. I don’t think I’ll risk another mother and baby, for they are so inclined to take root here, as Pat did, and I must above all things be able to have the house free and ready for you when you return. My reading of the military situation takes alternately optimistic and pessimistic turns, and it is hard to decide what to do. I shan’t take on anyone in too big a hurry, anyway. There will be a lot of work to do when my goods arrive from Devon (the new wardrobe will have to be thoroughly cleaned if not repainted, and the lino has to be laid).
Today Frances went to the Sunday School at St. Giles’s for the first time. First all the classes had a short service in the church, which was of course far above her head, and then they split up into age groups and the babies were taken by two nice young girls and played suitable games etc. I decided on the whole it is a good thing, she is very keen to go herself. I do want her to get more juvenile society and enter into the life of the village a bit. I don’t really think the religious side of it enters into it at her age. She is very much looking forward to her dancing class, which starts on Tuesday, and that, too, does her good. It was lovely for her down in Devon in the summer, and we are both very fit after our long holiday, but I am glad we are home again now and can get back into our routine. One of the troubles with my people, bless them, is that they do love to have a little game of something in the evenings, with the result that we play bridge or mahjong [sic] whenever there is a four, and Bezique the other nights, and one simply never gets any reading done! I am going to start on your Clay’s Economics next and see if I can make anything of it. Incidentally I have won my battle with the Collector of Taxes over a War Contribution of £4 odd he was trying to get out of me. Touche told me it was payable by the owner of the house on 1st Jan 1944, which was not me, and he has had to admit it.
All my love to you, my darling, Ursula.
W/O J.R.M. Valentine,
British P/W No. 450,
Stalag Luft III, Germany
[stamp GEPRUFT 113]
[inserted] 5/1 [/inserted]
From Mrs. Valentine,
Felmersham,
Bottrell’s Lane,
Chalfont St. Giles, Bucks.
Sunday, October 8th 1944
My dearest Johnnie,
Here we are safely installed in our own little home again, and how glad I am to be back! We travelled up on Tuesday with Barbara, catching the 7.30 a.m. train, and really it was an unexpectedly pleasant journey, not too crowded at all. I had arranged for Mr. Leveritt to meet us at Seer Green this end, so it was all very trouble-free, and we got home soon after 4 p.m. Barbara started to unpack a bit while I dashed out to get the necessary minimum of food into the house. I had ordered coal a week or two before, and was very glad to find that it had been delivered, so now we have a bit of a stock to help us through the winter. Frances was overjoyed to find all her toys and precious possessions again, but was so tired after the journey that I hadn’t much trouble in separating her from them temporarily and putting her to bed. Of course the house was in a considerable uproar, because we had stuffed a lot of our belongings, Pat’s and mine, into the nursery and locked it up before we went away 3 months ago, still I managed to find the necessary bed linen etc. for the night. The next day, being the last day of Barbara’s leave, we decided that I should postpone my day of reckoning with the housework, lock up and go up to town all together to try to get some Christmas shopping done. This we did, and had a busy day pottering round the shops and contrived to pick up a few presents – we bought a pretty painted bed-tray (i.e. a tray with short legs) for my people, since Mother and Daddy always have a cup of tea in bed in the mornings. I got a wee wooden mangle for Frances, to help her through her dolls’ washing, which I am keeping by me till Christmas, and a few other odds and ends as well. On Thursday morning Barbara had to leave us by an early bus, and when we got back from seeing her off, the battle commenced. I spent the whole day carrying things from here to there, unearthing our special treasures which I had put out of the tenants’ way and generally reorganising the house. Frances helped me manfully, struggling up and down stairs under large loads. The tenants have left the house in surprisingly good condition, the only things they have broken, as far as I have noticed, are two glasses of that lemonade set Uncle Norman and Auntie Meg gave us for a wedding present. It is a pity, but not as bad as it might have been. They seem to have kept the place reasonably clean, except for the oven, which I had to dismantle and clean thoroughly yesterday. The garden has been kept in good order by old Mr. Palmer, from next door, and there are plenty of winter greens coming on. Our tomatoes have done quite well, too, considering what a bad season it has been everywhere for them. I picked a couple of pounds straight off, and there are lots more green or just turning colour, but it is doubtful whether there will be enough warm weather to ripen them now and I think I shall have to bring them indoors to finish off. Our marrows have done quite well too. I grew two or three new sorts this year, a South African and an Argentine marrow, and a Hubbard squash. The South African has turned out to be a round dark green affair, smaller than the ordinary marrow and with a very pleasant flavour indeed. It is definitely worth growing again, and I shall try to save some seed. That is the only one we have eaten yet. There are a few runner beans left on the plants but they are pretty tough, and I think I shall save them for seed too, likewise the French and dwarf beans. The chief job facing me in the garden
[page break]
is the remaking of the herbaceous border, and I hope to start that this coming week. At the moment the flower garden looks quite gay with Michealmas [sic] daisies (several nice varieties as well as the dull ones I hate so) and Golden Rod, and a few late polyanthus roses. I have gathered some lavender for putting into sachets too. I want to alter the screen of roses too, do away with the short untidy posts that are there now and get some decent long ones, 8ft high or so, and train the ramblers up them properly. This ought to give us more shade on the lawn in the summer too, as well as greatly improving the view from the dining room window. Mr. Palmer has harvested the potato and shallot corps for us, we ought to have enough spuds to last most of the winter at our present rate of consumption. In fact I hope not to spend much on vegetables this winter at all. There is no fruit in the garden, the one old-established apple tree was evidently picked clean by the tenants (it is an early cropper), and the total crop of the new trees I planted was one pear which fell off in a high wind the other night. Better luck next year!
Pat Hodson rang up just before I left Salcombe to tell me she has rented a wee cottage at Modbury, where she was staying, for 7/6 per week! Of course it has no mod cons except electricity, but I should think she is very wise to take it and try to settle down for a bit. Now the problem is for her to collect all her belongings which are scattered here and in London, and I like a mutt have undertaken to pack up all her stuff here and have it ready to go off to her by rail. This turns out to be no light task, and I have already put in a good many hours on it. How lovely it will be to have the house all to myself at last, all ready and waiting for you! I am torn between the desire to revel in the privacy and convenience of being on my own, and the desire to earn a spot more money by having someone to live with me. I don’t think I’ll risk another mother and baby, for they are so inclined to take root here, as Pat did, and I must above all things be able to have the house free and ready for you when you return. My reading of the military situation takes alternately optimistic and pessimistic turns, and it is hard to decide what to do. I shan’t take on anyone in too big a hurry, anyway. There will be a lot of work to do when my goods arrive from Devon (the new wardrobe will have to be thoroughly cleaned if not repainted, and the lino has to be laid).
Today Frances went to the Sunday School at St. Giles’s for the first time. First all the classes had a short service in the church, which was of course far above her head, and then they split up into age groups and the babies were taken by two nice young girls and played suitable games etc. I decided on the whole it is a good thing, she is very keen to go herself. I do want her to get more juvenile society and enter into the life of the village a bit. I don’t really think the religious side of it enters into it at her age. She is very much looking forward to her dancing class, which starts on Tuesday, and that, too, does her good. It was lovely for her down in Devon in the summer, and we are both very fit after our long holiday, but I am glad we are home again now and can get back into our routine. One of the troubles with my people, bless them, is that they do love to have a little game of something in the evenings, with the result that we play bridge or mahjong [sic] whenever there is a four, and Bezique the other nights, and one simply never gets any reading done! I am going to start on your Clay’s Economics next and see if I can make anything of it. Incidentally I have won my battle with the Collector of Taxes over a War Contribution of £4 odd he was trying to get out of me. Touche told me it was payable by the owner of the house on 1st Jan 1944, which was not me, and he has had to admit it.
All my love to you, my darling, Ursula.
Collection
Citation
Ursula Valentine, “Letter to prisoner of war John Valentine from his wife Ursula ,” IBCC Digital Archive, accessed April 26, 2024, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/20402.
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