68, Oxford Close,
Mitcham,
Surrey,
England.
Dec. 30, 1945.

Dear Buck,

Was awfully pleased to receive your air letter. Believe you me, I can quite understand your delay in writing letters, time really does fly. I have had a little more time for writing since I left work, but there still isn’t an idle moment all day.

Recently, I have been washing dresses, ready to come over, but it’s all very awkward. The Canadian Immigration wallahs just won’t give me any idea of when I shall be sailing, and consequently, as I wash and put each dress away I have less and less to wear. Be rather awkward if I didn’t sail until June, there’d be time to wear ’em and wash ’em all again. Sometimes the papers say we’re sailing in February, and other times they say August. What is one to do? When they do eventually notify me, it’ll be within a week of sailing. Would take all of that to say goodbye to everyone. Such a deal, alack, alack.

I hope you enjoyed yourself at Christmas. Ours was spent at home, the first one all together for six years. Food was pretty hard to get, but we managed a turkey (not from a shop, but a friend with a farm) and also a leg of pork. The pork came from a Mitcham pig. During the war we had auxiliary fire stations dotted about, and while the firemen hung about waiting for a fire they started up victory gardens, and some of them raised pigs and rabbits. When the pigs are killed they are taken by the Government, but before they could grab one of them it disappeared.  A leg of it disappeared down farm throats at 68, and that’s how we got our pork.

The weather has been exceptionally good for this time of the year. On Christmas day there was a cloudless blue sky and a warm sun. A friend of mine was at the coast, and, according to him, people were sitting on the beach as though it was mid-summer.

I have been in bed for a few days. Had a bout of bronchitis. I lost my taste on Christmas Eve, I was scared stiff that I wouldn’t be able to taste the dinner next day, but it was very obliging, so all was well. Do I sound greedy? I’m not really, but I daresay Sandy will assure you that I’m not the dieting type. Imagine a leaf of lettuce instead of steak.

Mother has just announced that lunch is ready, so I’ll finish this scrawl. Mother, Pop, John and I all wish you a happy new year. I hope it won’t be long before I can tell you all the news instead of writing it.

Oodles of love
Jeanne