8 February 1920

St Hilda’s Hall,



                My dear Mother,

Many thanks for your parcel on Friday, and also for the stockings this morning.  I am glad that Uncle and Auntie are with you this week-end, but I hope you are not having too much to do about it.  I hope you had a good evening with Betty and the Major.

I think that we are gong to like Brahms’ “Requiem” as much as we liked the Sea Symphony.  There is one perfectly great movement, a setting of “all flesh is as grass” motif.  We always practise with the orchestra, which is getting larger, and now boasts a real wind section, which is a standing source of amusement to the choir, as it sometimes goes in for weird effects.  We are going to perform the Requiem in the Shel. on Sunday, Feb. 22nd so if Daddie could arrange to come up that week-end, I could get him a ticket.

On Tuesday I played tennis so vigorously that I have had an ache in the muscles of my right arm ever since.

On Wednesday I went to supper with Gwen. Dolly was out to dinner, Llewellyn is always either at Keble or All Souls, and the maid had gone to see “Milestones” 1, so we had the house to ourselves.  Llewellyn and Dolly have a beautiful little old house in Holywell, with a frightfully narrow spiral staircase, with every stair triangular, running up the middle of the house.  They have got some very nice furniture.

We had rather a rag on Friday night.  Joyce and I were having baths in the double bath-room, and throwing soap and sponges through the partition –  N.B. a cold sponge is the only way of getting Joyce out of a hot bath – when Evelyn came and told us that Doris had come to see me.  A little later she came back to say that Doris had gone.  When we finally arrived in Joyce’s room after a few moments’ conversation, Doris sprang out on us from the cupboard – just as Evelyn was dreading what Joyce was going to say next!  She stayed and had cocoa with us.

Tonight we have been to Queen’s College chapel with tickets which Doris got for us.  The choir sang “for the Fallen”.  There was a small, but full orchestra, a little choir, in which Doris sings amongst altos.

If this letter is incoherent, please excuse, as Joyce and Evelyn are chattering 19 to the dozen.  Best love to Daddie and Max,

Your loving daughter,


1 ‘Milestones’ – probably the play  by Arnold Bennett and Edward Knoblauch.

The next letter will be posted on 16 February 2017.