Letters from a Victorian Father

My Dear Dorothy,
I was leaving the house last evening with a letter to Ivor in my hand to throw in the nearest Post Box, when your welcome letter was brought up to me from below. I read it in the “Tube”.
Many thanks for wishes kind as to my health. I am not worrying, but I find I am susceptible to any sudden chill in the atmosphere and would feel a trifle anxious if a severe spell of really cold weather were to surprise us this winter.
My work at the week-end keeps me standing about in the cold for hours and hours, but if the spell of cold comes along I shall take it as easy as I can.
I am surrounded by good friends who would pack me into “Lyons” or the “Express” for an hour or two for a rest from the cold, and would carry on for me rather than see me run too big a risk. For all of which I thank God.

“Patricia” – I think you might reply as soon as you please. I know Annie’s daughter is sending you a Christmas card, her address is –
Mrs Annie France, 1 Rockliffe Street, Graham Street, Islington N.4.

Queen’s Hall – That leaves me a bit anxious as to Dorothy, but not as to Ivor. You must manage to come. I want to see you badly. There are many little things to discuss that can’t be put on paper. You will spoil my Christmas if I don’t see you ‘twixt now and then. I shall not worry: I feel I shall see you at Queen’s Hall.

Paints – I shall bring them along, and you and Ivor can settle to share or do so as you wish, mutually.

Chess – I have heard of that little book you mention. You must of course buy or borrow Board and Men so that you can put up the positions as the book proceeds. I would like you to play a decent game of Chess. It wants study from books as well as actual play; preferably with opponents stronger than yourself.
I had a game with Ivor when he was in London, at Lyons’ in The Strand, and he is coming along decidedly. He wants book knowledge, too. I was particularly pleased with his “Chess Manner”. His moves were decisive, right or wrong, and he was silent the whole of the game. I did all the talking.

Amateur Theatricals – I was pleased at what you say re “Wakefield’s” birthday acting. If Ivor has some real talent in this direction it will procure him much pleasure and many interesting friends. It is indulged in far more than when I was young and good Amateurs are eagerly sought after.
You don’t seem to have gone in for this. Personally, I think that you too have a flair in that direction; judging from your delight when a kid in imitating (for my delectation) your teachers and others on many quiet evenings. And, I assure you, I am never amused at fifth-rate stuff in that line. It is a pleasant hobby and gives pleasure to others.

Girl Guides – From a side remark of Ivor’s, I learn that you still keep up this fine hobby. You might tell me, when you think of it, how you are progressing.

Robinson Crusoe — I am glad you so enjoy it. There are so many abridged (shortened) editions for young folk. No doubt you read one of these previously. To love “Robinson Crusoe” is to shew good literary taste.

Christmas Cards – I don’t think it would hurt you to send a penny Xmas card to Mrs Hill. Also one to Annie (no letter). I may send you on some nice, cheap cards about Xmas time. Where I work in Chapel Street, we have Woolworth’s dead in front of us, so it is quite easy for me to choose a few stray ones for you and for Ivor. I am immodest enough to believe that you can trust my taste in that direction. With the flap open, Christmas cards carry a halfpenny stamp.

The Weather – To-day at work it blew and it blew and affected sales unkindly. We are hoping and praying for a fine spell of weather between now and Christmas. About next week-end the Christmas shopping spirit ought to manifest itself in its budding stages. A good Christmas puts me, temporarily at least, on my feet and I start the New Year clear of all debt and with a new pair of shoes.

It is getting late. I am sitting in front of a lovely fire and now that I have finished this epistle will have a cup of tea, a cig, a quiet think and “so to bed”; to get ready for tomorrow’s long day.

Love Dad.