Letter from Peter Lamprey to W Gunton



Letter from Peter Lamprey to W Gunton


Peter Lamprey is complaining about the remoteness of the station on Tiree and the lack of entertainment.




Temporal Coverage




Envelope and four page handwritten letter


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[postage stamp]

Mr. W. Gunton.
Machine Room.
Waterlow and Sons. Ltd.
Twyford Abbey Rd.
Park [deleted] Roay [/deleted] Royal. N.W.10.
[underlined] London [/underlined]

[page break]

[reverse of envelope blank]

[page break]

Isle of Tiree.
Western [underlined] Hebrides. [/underlined]

[underlined] Tuesday. [/underlined].

Dear Uncle Bill and Others.

You will see by the above I have received the elbow rather severely. We are, at present, in the last place in the universe for an airman to spend his weary hours. We expect to be here a few weeks and hope a few hours. If they dont [sic] move us soon I shall proceed to chew mouthfuls out of what, in their inimitable way, the natives call the scenery. The place is one huge sand-bank with a few houses and no attractions. No trees, nothing but sand. If I wasn’t so brassed off I could be singing the Desert Song all day with the right background. Join the RAF and see life from a new angle – the wrong one. To think I ever ran Inverness down. When the old kite calls for us I shall be first and kiss the pilot. That is if I am still sane. After what seems like two years here I am already fit to babble. I should imagine someone was kidding you when

[page break]

[underlined] 2. [/underlined]

they told you this side of Scotland was best for scenery. Of all the hell holes this place is the giant panda. Whatever the poor perishers who are stationed here do I don’t know. Mr. Hunt – curse him – will be glad to know beer is practically unknown on the island and the nearest ATS camp is about sixty miles of salt water away. He, Mr Hunt, will most likely go into hysterics and I hope he chokes.

Tell Maloney – Cherry and Charlie not to DD it yet. I don’t know the answer to this one so they better wait until I can work it out. Not that is wouldn’t do old “Railings” a bit of good and show him that life is not all beer and bunk.

This jaunt has rather upset my schedule of writing and as this letter will take over a week to reach you it is likely – I hope – to reach you just as I return to bonny – bonny Inverness. So until you hear further the old address is still the one to write to. This part doesn’t apply to “Old Railings” as I expect he has only just got to the stage of marking a cross for his signature.

[page break]

[inserted] 3. [/inserted]

There are very few women here and the sheep are very fast so unless you find a lame one “you’ve had it”. I should imagine this is a lovely [sic] for a honey-moon. There is no earthly reason for going out except for the natural functions and then you dig your own hole. This letter was started Saturday but as the mail only goes on Tuesday I have kept it open in case anything should happen, which seems more or less a physical impossibility as there is nowhere for any bloody thing to happen. Talk about sand. You eat it, drink it, wear it and I dare say you get rid of it.

From the foregoing remarks you will doubt-less jump to the conclusion that I am cheesed off. If your perception is only half as good as I imagine you will realise “cheesed off” is a gross understatement. I expect the facts laid out will cause hilarity in some corners of the chapel

Dropping into personal matters. Have I ever given you the impression of being loopy? Then where the hell do you get the idea I would trust you with

[page break]

“Wyns” address. The last letter I had contained an impassioned appeal to me to strangle you at the first opportunity, which, being a perfect gentleman I have promised to do. She has however three sisters so when I get along again we will start visiting.

That lets me out so keep you [sic] nose clean. Kiss Rusty and Jack Denny for me. Remember me to all the boys. I will write [sic] Arthur Gilbert when I get to Inverness.

Three cheers. Pete.

P.S. Thank the knitter of my scarf for me, It is a treat. Let me know who it was.

P.P.S. This place has killed the poetic stirrings stone dead.

[underlined P. [/underlined]



Peter Lamprey, “Letter from Peter Lamprey to W Gunton,” IBCC Digital Archive, accessed May 28, 2024, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/6570.

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