Letter from Father 18 December 1923
Just a few lines before i go to bed hopeing it finds you well and happy i expect you are getting ready for XMass we were very pleased to get your letters. I read them all for the Children last Night before they went to bed they said what a funny chip shop with a river under neath they were sorry for Uncle Tom because he could not eat meat and you haveing all them nice things in the house. Glad you enjoyed yourself at the party i hope it was a nice bottle of Cent. Willie said you would only get a paper cap so i said you would get a present he was thinking of them partys he as been to. well he does not (know?) everything. I am going to a Do on Wednesday a (hot pot) supper. But i will have to use a knife and fork. (But i would rather have a spoon) your Mam is not well at all the bad weather is makeing her Cough worse, Farnworth is just the same old place wet and Dirty. We are finishing work on Friday till the Thursday so i will come and see you on Saturday if it is convenient, and Ada as well so you must write and let me know one of my work mates is coming to Stalebridge so i will have some one to show me the road. I think this is all your mum is going to write in the Morning so i will close with Good Night and God bless you hopeing to see you on Saturday
From your loveing Dad
P.S. Willie says you will tell me off for bad spelling if i have made any mistakes i am sure you will be able to make them out xxxxx
Maria Walker has made an interesting piece of art from the sentence ‘I would rather have a spoon’, using five wooden spoons painted in crackle glaze and painted with the words. My grandfather loved his food and had a prodigious appetite, but always remained tall and skinny.
‘Willie’ mentioned in these letters is my Uncle Bill, as I knew him. All of us remember that he was always in his vest, quite shocking for us children. My nephew Steve once asked him if he was an athlete, with all the tact of small children. He sounds like he was a bit of a pain even then; I can’t say I ever liked him much. He always called my clarinet my ‘liquorice stick’, which did make me smile, at least. Father’s written style takes little notice of full stops and he puts capital letters in random places, but his handwriting is beautiful. He seems quite defiant of Willie and his grammar school ideas. Uncle Bill died in 1976, the year of my wedding.