Jelly in: My mum found this letter a while ago. It is written by my grandma to her yet unborn children. On the front is written “P.Graham. For the future.”
I think that I’ll let it speak for itself.
14th November 1951
Dearest son or daughter,
Really, I find it quite difficult to write to someone who just isn’t!
Today, or rather this evening (8:45 pm – to be exact!), is your uncle’s birthday. He’s 21. Really – this is too stupid! What if I don’t get married! Then you won’t read this ‘cos you won’t be! (I hope.)
I’ll present this letter to you just before you go to University – it’ll be a dire warning!
We had a midnight feast on Saturday – first of that kind I’ve experienced. It seems great fun when you plan it but at one o’clock when you’re rudely woken up, I found myself wondering if I would rather sleep until morning – but it all went off very well. We had chips and chicken, spring onions and lettuce, bread and butter, creamy peaches and pineapple (both tinned) and MUSHROOMS, which we heated over a spirit stove . Such excitement. Then we had cake, sweets, balloons, birthday cake – I had a pain for two days after that!
Hell, I’m a fool. I have done NO work! You must work, when you’re my age. I’m going to plup! (Note- plup is slang for fail) My aunts and uncles and grandmothers (Good grief, they’ll be your great aunts, uncles and grandmothers!) have sent a telegram wishing me luck. I feel ashamed!
I’ve really no will-power! I’ve been reading a book called – something about Baghdad? – by Agatha Christie. Cissy Newdigate came in a moment ago and laughed like hell to see me writing this – she says why don’t I rather go and read my English set work (a terrible book called Pity On You.)
I can’t concentrate! Tricke (a girl called Ingrid Tricke) is playing Christmas carols, hits of the week and odds and ends of her flute.
By the way, I’m at boarding school – never been before! I’ve only been here for about 2 and 1/2 weeks. I came here very suddenly when home got the bright idea that I might work harder if I became a boarder. (I’m very easily distracted!) There goes the 9 o’clock bell. All these bells are getting me down!
Funny to think of me with kids – I’m 17 and 4 months now – I wonder how old you’ll be when you read this. Funny that everything is quite real to me, yet when you read this letter, I’ll be 45 or 50ish! Here I am sitting at my small desk (the one with one wonky leg – the desk not me) in my too-short pyjamas and faded dressing gown, laundry hanging up all over the room, my fingers ink-stained from this awful pen (which I only keep because once Bill Michaels touched it!).
Someone at school told me that he was going to write to me – but I haven’t had anything yet – I’m giving up the ghost!
Oh gee – look at all the swotting I’ve done!!! And it’s twenty past nine! You ought to be shot, wasting all my time like that! I wish I had time to write loads more to you, but I’ll write again when I turn twenty-one, to you when you turn twenty-one!
We have exams in three days, so they let us off lessons to swot! Hell, I pray I’ll study not play!
xxxxxx Hello and good-bye, from Mother (see, it sounds weird!).
Jelly in: This made me love my granny even more than I did before. Just so you know, my granny is the actual best and I’ll be diligently hunting out that letter she wrote when she was 21!