Letter from Harold Gorton to his wife

Letter from Harold Gorton to his wife

He writes about flying duties and social activities.

1943-10-17

Seven handwritten sheets

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EGortonHGortonLCM431017

OFFICERS’ MESS.
ROYAL AIR FORCE,
CARK,
NORTH LANCASHIRE.
TELEPHONE GRANGE 390
17/10/43
Dearest,
I did well out of my week of O i/c – two full nights & once till midnight, 4 complete scrubs.
For a change yesterday, I went to Lancaster to the pictures. The only amusing thing that happened was [deleted] that when [/deleted], in the Empire Café (the one we visited). I told the waitress I didn’t think much of the menu, which consisted of fish cakes or cottage pie, or sausages, & she came back a moment later to ask if I’d prefer some mutton. My wings must still have their charm, after all.
I didn’t go home this week-end as I was there last week, & shall be there a week
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on Wednesday. I’m not so fond of home as all that, & only go because of the concerts.
I’m sorry to say that I’ve forgotten to get your travel voucher. I’ll go along to S.H.Q. after I’ve written this to see if I can get it.
I’m spending the evening with the Wyvers; I only hope I don’t get wet through, because the weather has been terrible today. This morning we sat in the office talking, & this afternoon we stayed in the Mess & played billiards.
I’ve not seen Moodie yet since he went to Morecambe, but Boddy tells me that there’s something wrong with a lung, & he can’t possibly go on Ops. That means that I shall
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move up into his place & go in November. It’s not absolutely definite yet but very probable. I shan’t know for certain until I fill in my forms stating my preference.
I’m afraid that will fix our leave for us. I’m wondering whether, instead, you’d like to come up here for a couple of weeks until I go. I warn you that it’ll be no picnic, because the weather really is terrible here, raining day after day. I was thinking that if you’d care to come, I might be able to get Moodie’s old digs in Cark village. They’d be handy for you, too, as being
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less than a minute from bus & train. I don’t know if I’m talking through my hat in suggesting this, but let me know what you think, & where you’d prefer to live.
Anyway, darling, you know that I love you & wish I could be with you. I was so cheesed off last night, sitting in front of a warm fire after I’d finished the last of that correspondence course, that I started playing patience, as the nearest approach to two-handed bridge.
But don’t let that worry you, & make you come when you don’t want to. I only feel like that very occasionally, and actually I’m doing very well & having a good deal of
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comfort.
By the way, I nearly made a gaffe by blowing your trumpet too loudly at home. In honour of my arrival, Mother made a dried egg custard, which tasted O.K. but looked awful, as there was a bright yellow skin & white custard underneath.
I managed to limit myself to saying that I’d eaten dozens of your custards that had looked all right, & did not say anything like offering to send her your recipe, or anything else which might have reflected injuriously on her cooking.
I’m glad your frock
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has arrived. Mother was a bit conscience-stricken because she didn’t register it. She’ll be relieved to know it’s safe.
By the way, is it possible to send her eating apples in a parcel? She can get them, but they’re small & very expensive – about 4d each for apples scarcely half the size of a cricket ball. (2/- a pound.) Don’t bother if it’s awkward, but if it’s possible, it would be the best Christmas present we could give.
I haven’t sorted out those figures properly yet (pay, I mean), but the extra on your allowance is ration money for my leaves, I think.
I’m glad you’re feeling fit, & trust you’ll be able to bear up during Janko’s absence. I told Mother, who asked about him, that I’d acted as a slight
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counter-attraction while I was at Newhouse!
Thanks for your letter, darling.
All my love,
Harold.