A Letter From Father to Daughter

I am in the final stages of clearing out my parent's home inradiness for sale.  Today, Sunday, I found a an envelope of letters and below is a transcript of one of those letters.  At the time of writing my Grandfather would have been working at The Hinds Head in Bray near Maidenhead in the Thames Valley while his wife may havestill been living in the Parkstone area of Bournemouth.  My mother, Merle, around the time of the letter was training to be a nursery nurse at an establishment near Winchester that was very close to what became known as the 'Spitfire Bridge'.  By the tone of this letter regarding my Mum's health it sounds like she was back at the family home recovering from an illness or injury.  I have tried my hardest to transcribe exactly what had been written in freehand.

The image above is from the first page of this three page letter which was written in pencil and clearly shows how clear my Grandfather's handwriting was.

I hope you enjoy this eyewitness account of the Blitz from some thirty miles west of London.

                                                                                                                   Bray, Saturday

Dear Merle

Maybe you’re wondering how London’s air raids are affecting us.  Maybe you’re not.  Well at 30 miles distance the London Blitz is just a magnificent spectacle of massed search lights, pin points of ac ac shells bursting, the new rocket shells rising up like fireworks and leaving in the sky a vast field of exploding poppies.  Sometimes the chandelier flares drift our way lighting the village as with bright moonlight.  Then a plane may pass on a bombing run, dropping H Exs and incendiaries, mostly in fields.

The growl of London’s barrage is like distant thunder swelling to a roar as the baffled planes turn our way.  Our nearest heavy guns shake the house like a bomb would and it is good to know they do hit the plane sometimes.  The first night I did not bother about a coat, the excitement kept me warm but now I wrap up warm and watch in comfort.  We have forty N.F.S. girls in training next door, but all I have seen of them so far are their twinkling legs flashing down the road on a route march.  The ladies of Bray got in the way – milk cows!!  Here it is bright and cold turning damp and milder to night.  Found Mrs Gay the other afternoon trying to get a foal through a fence back into the field.  So I broke down the fence, got the frightened pony thro and rebuilt the fence all in a moment.  And the old mare neighed her thanks! For returning her foal.

I am cycling to a mansion house nearby where a sale will be held, and as it is a fine morning, I am going the longest way round.

Have you had any more knocks?  You’re as bad the rino for tumbling about.  Give my love to them all and yourself.

From Daddy