15/9/1940

It was such a joy to have your letter at last! I’ve missed you dreadfully, but it’s a comfort to know you’re safe and in good spirits. Your news sounds ever so exciting - imagine, you in a Spitfire! I daresay I’ll never look at the sky the same way again, knowing you might be up there.

I wish I had such thrilling things to tell you, but life here is rather ordinary. Rationing grows more tiresome by the week, though we muddle through somehow. If I’m honest, I sometimes worry I’ll run out of things to write about, and that my letters will become quite dull. Perhaps I ought to do some proper volunteering - something worth telling you, so you won’t tire of hearing from me.

As for the family, they’re all keeping well. Mother has taken up knitting with real determination - I think every man in the village will have a woolly scarf before winter’s out. Father, meanwhile, has joined the Home Guard. He’s ever so proud of it. You should see him in his uniform - he looks rather comical, but I daren’t laugh outright, as he’s so serious about it. Still, it does him good to feel he’s doing his bit.

The weather has been its usual grey self, nothing new there. Our little cottage is showing its age rather badly - Father keeps muttering about repairs, then remembering no one’s available while the war drags on. I expect he’ll try to tackle it himself soon, which will be something to see.

I long to hear more about your flying, though I know the censors must spoil half of what you’d like to say. Perhaps when we meet again, you can tell me everything in person. We’ve had our share of excitement here too - the aeroplanes drone over nearly every night now. We’re far enough from the bombing to be safe, thank heavens, but it still makes one’s heart race. Knowing you’ll be up there, helping to shield us, gives me courage.

Do give my fondest regards to your mother - I think of her often. And remember always that I love you, and dream of the day we’ll be together again. I sometimes catch myself imagining it in the middle of chores, and it makes everything seem a little brighter. I’ll send along a little keepsake soon, something you can hold onto until we meet once more.

With all my love,
Naomi

Received on the 20/9/1940