Letter re: news, including a new job (no details due to secrecy) (December 1942)


My dearest Mother,

Your parcel arrived safely on Friday. You could have chosen no more acceptable form of present and we all thank you very much. The boys will write after Christmas as they will not get their presents until Christmas day. I cannot imagine how you collected all the sweets unless you have access to a black market! I hope you are not depriving yourself. We look forward to a tuck-in.

Marjorie and I have not been able to think of anything worth sending to you and have concluded that cash and food are the only sensible gifts. You chose food for us so we are sending a tiny war-time size cheque.

Christopher got home safely last Tuesday. He is having rather a short holiday, going back on Jan 12th. Jem, who got back on Thursday, is not due to return until Jan 19th. They are both very well and cheerful. They are helping in the house as usual. Things in that connection are slightly better in that Marjorie now has a woman three afternoons a week.

Last Thursday I was in the House of Commons listening to a civil aviation debate. Afterwards I met Grant-Ferris who you will remember as a child. He is an MP now – a barrister in peace time & a Wing Commander now. His mother is still alive and well and in the same house. He is having trouble with the Dixons over the estate left by H.M. Grant, to whom he is apparently entirely grateful for all that has been done for him. He is a very nice fellow. Jack Dixon & Grant Dixon got 2/5 each and Ferris 1/5. Grant Dixon recently married.

On Wednesday I had lunch at the Carlton with a Czech Air Vice Marshal and a Professor of Egyptology. The former was Janousek, the Czech C-in-C, and the latter Glanville, temporarily a Wing Commander R.A.F. I have luncheons with all sorts of people but I mention this one as a curious combination worth remarking, particularly as it was an interesting occasion.

I am changing my job. I cease in a day or two to be Deputy Director of Scientific Research and take charge of something about which unfortunately I can say precisely nothing but which will make a damn good tale one day.

I have been put down for the Athenaeum, which is probably London’s most exclusive club. It takes about a year to get elected, if at all, so I hope to be able to afford the entrance fee when the time comes. I couldn’t now!

It looks like a fine day to-day, Sunday, & we shall soon go out. We kept M. in bed for breakfast. The poor soul gets so tired.

We all send our very best wishes for Christmas & 1943 to you & Hildred & Edith. Please give them our love.

All the best

Your own loving son


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