1917-11-11 RC-CC

To his mother Charlotte Capell

Sunday, 11th Nov, '17 [1917]

Dearest Mother:

Thank you for your good letter. What you told me about your other London visit was not long out of my thoughts, and I await news from you about the result of this one. Do, my dear, take care of yourself, and let things that don't matter, or matter comparatively little, slide.

I really ought to apologise for that note of mine from Folkestone. It was quite unreasonable, quite. But the feeling of the yoke once again, after 10 sybaritic days! – – Still, I feel ashamed of it.

The weather here has been wet & gloomy, but we are well off in this brewery. The billet is pretty cold, but we are allowed 2 blankets. In fact it is not impossible to "win" an extra one, – though the orderly sergeant probably wins it back the next day! There were a few casualties from the raid the other week, but most days pass uneventfully, and I am rather at a loose end, though expecting every day to go up on the working party that I mentioned to you.

Roffe is going on leave tonight, so I expect you will be seeing him. I have written to Willett suggesting that he go across to see Jo – whom he met at St Alban's & Hatfield.

The "funny party" have a go each night at the Xmas farce, but the rehearsals can't go very satisfactorily till we get a few more copies of the "work". We are also hampered by various members either going on leave or up the line.

Our young Cornishman, Raddall – the great Wesleyan of whom I have told you – he whose zeal managed the ejection of a certain chaplain – is just back from leave; and visiting his firm in S. Paul's Churchyard saw his 'Governor', e.g. Mr Layzell – who, says Raddall, was very genial "for him". Raddall mentioned me.

I have had good letters from Isa, Mary & Jo since I got back. How jolly & happy everything was on my leave! It will certainly be a bright patch to remember for a long time. I was sorry to hear of the disappointment in Mary's week-end. Whatever was the reason for H.P.'s sudden recall? I have written a long letter to Margaret since I got back, and will do the same for Fraser as soon as I get another green envelope.

Raddall & the boys who came back with him bring a delicious story from the Boulogne rest-camp where they were held up for a day – a story that has by now spread throughout the five armies, I doubt not! It seems that to amuse the returning leave-people a concert was to be given by some local ladies in the Y.M.C.A. of the camp. To while away the time before the show started, some-one in the audience who happened to be a good pianist started to give "selections" which were to the taste of the multitude but not of the camp commandant, whose Mightiness was in a front place. This Panjandrum ordered the pianist to stop, in forceful – indeed, in oathful terms. Just then, enter some of the lady-performers; whereon the Panjandrum is all smiles & bows. But as he announces the first item of the programme the whole audience as one man arises & with perfect decorum marches out of the hut. Raddall swears that it was the experience of a lifetime! It is certainly an example for the text-books of "psychologie de la foule"! The show had to be cancelled, and as the fuming Panjandrum came out of the hut, everyone emphasised his disapproval by ostentatiously turning his back. – – A sharp lesson for all Base Panjandrums!

I heard today from Caldicott. He is at Salonica, – writes from a convalescent camp, having had two touches of fever. Poor dear, he feels very fed up, and wants the war to be over, though I don't suppose the Macedonian army gets anything like our ration of enemy shell!

I have read the little "Napoleon" of H.A. Fisher & am very struck. It will go the round of the 6th L.F.A. "intellectuals". Please tell Auntie that her chocolates have been appreciated. Pre-war chocolates, in truth! I didn't know that such still existed!

Roffe and I made an expedition the other day to our ruined city, which is very romantic in its decay. There are civilians – a handful, who live by selling drinks & souvenirs to the khaki hordes. Most people on leave take away some specimen – say, a satin cushion cover painted with Ypres cloth-hall or Arras cathedral in flames, unless fancy dictates a flower-vase or candlestick made in the form of a shell. These things will oust the china bull-dog from the mantelpiece in the homes of England.

Goodbye, my mother. Your Richard