Thursday 16 February 1945, Colchester, Essex

The clock to which the key was hidden.

My darling
                 Another mild day but spoiled, like yesterday, by heavy mist morning and evening. This seems to be a characteristic of Essex in winter and it is an unpleasant one as everything drips with moisture. But for a few hours in the afternoon we got a promise of finer weather.

...

                 I'm reading Vestal Fire by Compton McK - another of his silly books about the Salernian Gulf, full of roseate descriptions and extremely old-fashioned naughtiness. He is really very dull and fit only to be read in rural Essex. I've also started Grierson's book which is very good indeed.

                 I wonder frequently about your health and hope you are not having too bad a time with your matutinal malady.* Don't hesitate to give up school at once if you feel like it. I'll be much easier in mind once you have resigned the academic life for one of fruitful leisure. I only wish I was constantly by you to look after your health and coax your morning appetite.

                 I hope you posted my package to Mlle Gilberte. I have still to write to the love-lorn Blakeney but I am convinced that by this time any counsel of moderation will be useless. He is assuredly forswunk. [sic] Do you think I am in any way responsible for his infidelity? Had I written earlier I might have saved him. And if I had remained in France I should have stood between him and his danger.

                 To my delight, on coming in for tea I found a letter from you. It is headed Feb.15th but from internal evidence it appears to have been written on the evening of the 14th. I am very glad to get it especially as I did not expect anything until tomorrow.

                 I'm glad you found the safe key. I must apologise for secreting it in your purse after receiving it from you. It's the same kind of prank that I played with that postal order. You have only to discover now where I've hidden the clock key.

                 Life still seems atrociously dull after that wonderful leave. Like you, I'm no longer satisfied with merely being at home, ie in U.K.  I want to be living with you in our own house - the only thing that really seems worth-while. The simplest pleasures are multiplied in your company. Reading with you, eating with you, seeing pictures in your company and even helping you with washing-up are all actively delightful. ...

                Look after yourself with extraordinary care .... Regards to Mrs B.

* Presumably on that last leave DF had become aware of the coming into existence of the current blogger - though I cannot think that the Mrs B referred to at the end is she!