happiness

Love Letters between Edna and Percy – the Nurse and Mr. California

Grandma had more game than I’ll ever have. There are love letters going back and forth between Grandma and Grandpa in 1929-1930 when she was visiting family in Ontario and they were in what seems to be early stages of dating.

Now, Grandma clearly tells him in the letter to burn this and he didn’t. I found it in a bunch of Grandma’s things along with letters from her dad. So she didn’t burn it either. And now here it is.

512 Cooper St.

Ottawa, Ont

February 3, 1930

Dear Friend

Your welcome letter arrived here several days ago but I couldn’t find a chance to answer it sooner and I must try and cut this one off short if I possibly can as I owe about a dozen now. My pen just seems to run away with me when I start your letters and you really only deserve short notes like you write, but you see I’m not afraid to write bunk I guess.

So you are having nice weather out there now eh? We are too it’s just ideal carnival weather and the carnival people are certainly making good use of it. I saw the snowshoe races Saturday afternoon and Saturday night 5000 snowshoers from Quebec had a torch-light parade. It was a beautiful sight to see them all in their many coloured costumes. After the parade the chimes in the peace tower of the Parliament buildings played many familiar tunes while gorgeous fireworks of every description were set off on all sides of the Parliament buildings illuminating them beautifully. It was a sight worth seeing and one that I won’t forget in a hurry.

I went down and watched the dog races this morning. They were interesting too. And there was a nice long letter from California waiting for me when I got back. He was asking how you are, and I’m very sorry to say he has had bad luck down there. Some machine or something cut off the ends of two of his fingers on his left hand. It must be painful, I feel awfully sorry for him and I’m going to write him a nice little letter one of these days. I think I can compose a short one that will show my sympathy and friendship and make it clear there is nothing more. I wish he wouldn’t write to me, it’s hard not to answer once in a while and I would rather not as I am just forgetting that there’s such an animal as men while I am down here.

You don’t seem to understand why I like it so well down here. I don’t like the people as well as my friends in Cochrane, it’s just the fun they go in for and the places and scenery that I like and it’s that that makes me want to stay here for a year at least. If you could only come down you’d understand. Just picture a warm night in spring, a big round moon casting its mellow light on a cosy Alberta chev parked in one of these apple orchards when the air is heavy with the perfume of the blossoms. Does it not appeal to you? It does to me, at least the trees and flowers and spring time does and I must admit I’d enjoy it all a little better if I had either you or Jean with me to express my thoughts about everything to and to help me treasure every memory.

I think that if I stay away a year or two it will be a good test for our affection. If you can’t wait a year you can’t care very much, you know when you’re afflicted with the real thing, absence makes the heart grow fonder. We don’t know each other very well yet, we have only each others word to depend on without the test of time.

When I said I didn’t care for anybody else in the real way and that I wouldn’t fall for anyone down here I meant it and I am living up to all I said so you can depend on that. And I’m believing all you said and trusting you are playing your part fair too so there is no deed of any doubt or mistrusting for either of us. But perhaps you were only joking in you last letter when you suggested that my reason for not wanting a job in Calgary was that once a week visit of yours etc.

However be sure and burn this letter won’t you cause I sure wouldn’t want anyone but you to read all this bunk I have written and if you don’t burn it right away, it might fall out of your pocket or something.

I’ll line up to those orders and come home sometime and it may be just next month and it may be a year from next month but it will be sometime and I’m looking forward to the day when I get back, but I’m looking forward to a lot of fun before then too.

You were asking my advice about writing to your friend the nurse. Don’t you think that is a question for you to decide. However, I’ll pass my opinion if you want it. I fail to see why you shouldn’t write to her or take her out to shows etc., just as you used to do. I’d feel hurt if I thought you gave up a good friend just because you think it wouldn’t look nice for you to be chasing around with another girl while I am away. Good, clean, true hearted friends are mighty precious in this world whether you ave plenty or not.

How are all the folks at your house and everyone else that I know? Have you got over your cold yet and have you started to round up your horses yet? And did you ever go out hunting deer again? Have you been to any shows or dances since I left or are the roads still bad. Has there been any births, deaths or marriages since I left? Nobody ever puts any interesting gossip in their letters, at least not enough to satisfy a nosy person like me, so far from home and friends.

Write 2 letters a week or else big long ones won’t you? I write closer together than you do and one of my pages equals 3 of yours. I shouldn’t kick about them though because I’m always glad to get them even if there was only one page.

Harrison let me write the last paragraph in his last letter to his girl, this is what I wrote. “Well, dear little light of my eyes, your twin should and lover must toddle off to his trundle bed to dream the sweetest dreams of you. I remain as ever sober and affectionate with barrels of love and kisses H.S.” I won’t tell you what she answered back. He has been stepping out with a nurse too and his girl is sure sour about it too. We have lot of fun teasing him about it. He’d sure tease me if he knew you chum with a nurse too. They must be professional _____. Well I must sign off now, don’t you think it’s about time I did too!

As Ever, Edna

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Let’s Laugh Folks: Cochrane Eye Opener

Here are a couple more excerpts from the 1927 copy of the Cochrane Eye Opener. Grandma would have been 19 when this was published. As you can tell, it was some very serious journalism. I’m actually a huge fan of this kind of journalism.

Let’s Laugh Folks

Have you ever tried this dish?

Mrs W. Andison asked her husband to copy the radio recipe one morning. Mr. Andison’s did her best but got two stations at once. One was broadcasting the morning exercises, the other the recipe. This is what he got:Hands on hips, place one cup of flour on shoulders. Raise knees and depressed toes, and wash thoroughly in one half cup of milk. In four counts raise the lower legs and mash two hard boiled eggs in a sieve. Repeat six times. Inhale one half teaspoon of Baking Powder and one cup of flour, breathe naturally and inhaled and sift. Attention: Jump to a squatting position and bend white of egg backwards and forward over head and in four counts make a stiff dough that will stretch at the waist. Lie flat on the flour and roll into a marble the size of a walnut. Hop to a standstill in boiling water but do not boil into a gallop. In ten minutes remove from fire and dry with a towel. Breathe naturally, dress in warm flannels and serve with fish soup.

Here’s another article:

Locals:

We notice Santa has supplied the Cochrane Hardware store with a generous supply of beautiful toys and gifts! For those who have a sweet tooth there are chocolates and _____ candies are now artistically displayed in Allan’s Confectionary and all other signs of Christmas and suitable gifts for the occasion can be seen in the other stores.

We are glad to report that Mrs Turner is progressing favourably, being able to go back to the city on Saturday last.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year Folks!!!!!!!

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Cochrane Eye Opener: The Fire at the Alberta Hotel

I found a couple of copies of something called the “Cochrane Eye Opener”, which seems to be a handwritten news type booklet. I’m not sure how long this Eye Opener operated for, but this one was printed around Christmas time of 1927.

The first story in this edition of the Eye Opener is called “the fire” detailing the fire that destroyed the Alberta Hotel (since we seem to be on a prairie fire theme), and an account of the fire at the Alberta Hotel can be found on this history of Cochrane site.

Answering to the toll of the church bell, many Cochrane citizens gathered to watch a roaring blaze which completely destroyed the historic Alberta Hotel. It was a wonderful sight. Never in the history of the village has such a fire occurred.

In its history, the hotel has had two other fires, however, these were but minor ones, each one being extinguished before it gout of control. But nothing could have checked the final blaze. The three-story structure burned as if it was an immense heap of firewood saturated with coal oil.

The fire started in one of the front rooms of the (second?) floor, soon spread to every corner of the building.

Roaring and cackling, it burst through the floor sending a shower of sparks into the air to be blown fat over the railway track by a gusty north wind. Three or four inches of snow on the ground and roofs prevented these sparks from igniting any other buildings.

The hotel disappeared very quickly. In about two and one half hours the site changes from a modern boarding house and beer parlour to a heap of hot embers.

There are a few stories written here, some of the handwriting has faded, but what’s there is a fun little window into life in Cochrane in 1927. As someone who grew up eating at the Cochrane Cafe, and who was saddened when they finally closed their doors a few years ago, it was kind of fun to see their advertisement in this paper.

The handwritten story about the fire
Some advertisements for paper
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Pigs Living High on the Cow – Percy’s version of the 1936 Fire

It’s funny how the same situation can elicit such different recollections – here’s Grandpa’s version of the story of the fire. I have previously posted Grandma’s version here and another version here, as well as some photos here.

You’ll notice there is no mention of Grandma trying to outrun the fire in her car with her toddler and her baby bump. It is, though, a really good description of how it must have felt for him, and all of them, after the fire when they were trying to figure out how to feed and care for their cattle.

We had serious droughts which created feed shortages but the worst situation I experienced was in the fall of 1936 when a disastrous fire burned all our feed and most of the pastures. That evening when everything was burned and things looked hopeless, Ken Coppock, Sec. Manager of the Western Stock Growers paid me a visit and told me to come and see him as he would help to figure out a way out of this predicament. At this time, there was a lot of straw stack, some three and four years old up in the Olds district. Ken contacted a man up there for me who acquired enough straw to winter what cows I had to get through the winter. The government was shipping cattle at the time free of charge from southern Alberta which was dried out, and so Ken got me on the band wagon as well. There was some losses, a lot of defending on what kind of a farmer was looking after the cattle. There were about five hundred or more head and these had to be placed in small lots around the country at different farms. One place in particular, the cattle did not do well because they were not getting enough water. Roads were blocked for a couple of weeks and I was unable to check this particular herd until several cows died, which were then hauled up to the pigs. Instead of cows living high on the hog, the hogs were living high on the cows.

It was a happy day the following spring when I trailed them home from Cochrane. It took some of them longer than others to make the trip, but they sure knew their way home.

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Love at first sight – a Percy Story

This holiday season I’m watching all the cheesy romantic Christmas movies, but I have to say they’ve got nothing on my Grandparents.

People often discuss their opinions regarding the question: what is a life well lived? I gotta say, reading my Grandpa describe his family life here, this to me seems like the best answer I’ve seen so far to that question. This, this is a life well lived. He accomplished a lot in his career as a rancher, but what he mentions here isn’t that at all. It’s only about his family and what he and my Grandma built there.

I’m shocked it’s taken me this long to find anything mentioned anywhere about Grandma’s teacup readings. She was so good at it, and did make up some pretty great stories on the spot about what she saw in the leaves.

One night on the dance floor in Cochrane, I was dancing with a girl whom I had known for a long time, Edna Brown. Something came over me at that time and as the saying goes I was never the same again. We were married two years later on the 11th of November, 1931. We took a short honeymoon to the coast. I had already built a cottage with a full basement consisting of 2 bedrooms and bath plus a kitchen and living room close by my Dad’s home. Mr Frank Fletcher from Cochrane helped to build it. We raised a family of three- Sheila, Marshall, and Margi, whom we are very proud of and they in turn all have families. They also had to ride to school just like I did which I think made them rather resourceful people as they had to look after their own welfare from the time they left home in the owning until they returned in the evening. No bus driver to do this.

Edna has been a very patient and loving wife and has stood by in several trials such as the time Margi got polio and we were almost beat for two years before there was any sure course to take. Margie was eleven years old at the time and through sheer determination she kept up with her studies and be a mobile person again.

Edna is called Grandma now, and is sure a big wheel in the Grandma world. I consider myself very fortunate to marry such a girl as she contributed so much to my happiness as well as success in my ranching career. We are living alone once more, a little lonely perhaps sometimes, but still have good health and many happy thoughts of bygone days. Our grandchildren do visit us quite often and this certainly does liven things up. Grandma is good at reading teacups and how she thinks of the big whoppers to tell is more than I can say.

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The Police were waiting for me (a Percy story)

I have discovered Grandpa’s written history. In his handwriting, which is some of the most beautiful handwriting (I’ve enclosed a sample at the bottom of this post.) I am presently reading/transcribing his description of how he built the barn that still is used here today, but this little story came right before and I quite enjoyed it.

Imagine driving cattle from Jumping Pound into Calgary and down Macleod Trail these days? Even back then, what a long ride!

Every fall we would ship our steers from Cochrane to wherever their destination was. These were usually three year old. Everything would be nice and quiet until we came to the bridge that crosses the Bow River. There was always trouble as they refused for a long time before deciding to go on the bridge. One year they absolutely refused and swam across below the bridge. The buyer was a tight fisted character and when we corralled them at the stockyards he accused me of watering them before they were weighed.

During the thirties when prices were low we sold to a feeder in Calgary and to save freight charges we trailed the steers to Calgary. Mr. W. Mackie had a feedlot in East Calgary close by the government elevators. He sent a drover Bert Bishop out to meet us on the outskirts of the city and steer us through the city to the feedlot. The cattle were getting more and more excited as we neared the residential districts and I remember Bert Bishop saying that all that needs to happen now is some lady comes out and shake her tablecloth. We crossed them on the bridge at Elbow Park and when turning the corner to approach the bridge there was a new house with newly made lawn and nice rope fence around it. We got the first few head around alright but those following up cut across the corner and what a mess they made of that lawn and fence.

The McLeod Trail was the next hurdle but we eventually got to the feedlot in good time. Upon arriving, Mr Mackie was waiting for us and also a policeman. Mr Mackie said the Police were waiting for me and I said I was not a bit surprised. However, he was just a personal friend. The occupants of the nice lawn etc must have been away at the time because I never did hear from them.

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A little update on “Jack the Soldier”

Thankfully there were other people who became invested in the life of Jack, and even though I said yesterday that “Real life, unlike TV shows and books doesn’t seem to wrap endings up in nice little bows so you know how things go”, I do have a little update on what happened to Jack and Eileen.

I had a family member (thanks Carolyn!) reach out who had done some searching and found Jack’s obituary from 2009 in Cochrane. It seems he passed away at the age of 97, and was survived by his wife, daughter, and a son and some grandchildren. From that I was able to find Eileen’s obituary and she passed away in 2016 also at the age of 97. So, they returned to Canada, to Cochrane, after the war.

It warmed my heart to know that that last letter, which wasn’t really a letter but a pre written post card, may have been the end of my story about Jack but nowhere near the end of his story, of their story. These letters, written by someone I never knew and never will know, have come to mean a lot to me, I’ve learned a lot from him.

Thank you Jack.

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Letters from “Jack the Soldier” during WWII – the last letter

This is the last letter from Jack. I’m left with so many unanswered questions. Did he survive the war? What happened to baby Julie (who would be 80ish now)? Did Eileen and Julie move to Canada to be with him? Real life, unlike TV shows and books doesn’t seem to wrap endings up in nice little bows so you know how things go.

I’ve included some photos at the end, but also there’s a post card kind of letter that was sent only 3 days after he sent this – what I’m assuming last – letter here to my grandparents. It’s definitely a different kind of letter .

I’ll miss Jack and his letters. These have been a real surprise for me and I’ve felt honoured to be able to read them and share them.

God Bless you Jack. Thank you for your service.

CPL J.S. Martin

6 Platoon Support Coy

Calgary HIghlanders

C.A.O.

20th Oct. 1944

Holland

Dear Folks

Here I am again with a little news from out here. Things have been a little static lately, and we are sitting tight at present. So there hasn’t been a great deal of excitement, at least not for me.

If the weather would clear up, it would help a great deal, but it rains very eerily at this time of year here, not only is it miserable for us infantry men, but it holds up the typhoons.

Gee you should see these boys go in. They really blast them again and after being in England so long and seeing the Jerry bombs come and go, and the long range guns from Calais bombard the costal towns, I just love it. I bet they make Jerry wonder why he ever started this war.

The papers have been full lately of how soon the war will finish, but it wouldn’t surprise me to see it go on until after the New Year. I would like to be home for Christmas, but I’m not very hopeful.

I am keeping very well at present, and doing fine. I guess you will be surprised at my splurge of writing as this is my third letter to you within a week. But seeing that at present I am not very busy, I thought it would be a good idea to catch up on my letter writing. I was sorry to hear about you being in hospital. I hope it wasn’t very serious and that you are all better now. The parcel you mentioned sending with shaving soap etc hasn’t arrived yet. Hope it comes along as I am just about out.

I hear them calling to come and get it. So I guess I had better hustle and draw my hardtack.

Will write you again soon. Hoping everyone is well and that this will be over soon.

Blessings to all

Sincerely

Jack

I’m assuming this is their wedding photo.
This seems to be a photo of Daddy Jack with Baby Julie
Proud Daddy Jack and Baby Julie
Assuming this is Julie and Jack and a whole bunch of turkeys
I think this is Jack but I’m not sure
Back of photo: Taken at Mawata Park, Calgary. July 19, 1940
Back of photo:Twa Bonnie Piper Laddies. Calgary HIghlanders. Camp Shilo
Back of photo: Pat Gillian. Calgary HIghlanders. Served 2 years in Spanish Civil War 1939-1939
This seems to be the last correspondence sent by our Jack. I hope he was ok.

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Letters from “Jack the soldier” during WWII – writing from the trenches in Holland

Well, this is a humbling letter. That’s pretty much all I have to say about it – his words say more than I ever could.

A couple of things – Boche was slang for Germans, and the Boche potato mashers were German grenades.

M11915 CPL Martin JS

6 Platoon Support Coy

Calgary Highlanders

C.A.O

16th Oct 1944

Holland

Dear Folks,

Thanks again for your super letter written Sept 28th. It arrived this evening so it didn’t take as long as the last one to get here.

I am writing this in my dugout and have only a flickering old candle made by myself out of some fat I scrounged from the cooks, so don’t blame me if you strain your eyes reading this.

This dugout I mentioned, is not very deep, as the ground is very sandy and it keeps caving in. I hunted up an old lumber pile and laid lots of heavy board on top, covered that over with soil, then placed the turf back on over the entrance. I have a couple of groundsheets which help keep the rain out. It also keeps this little light from shining. As you can imagine, I haven’t much room. But after I have been in for a while, it gets kinda cozy and it is a lot warmer than sleeping out on top.

Every place we go these days we carry a shovel, and dig ourselves below ground level. Then if we stay over-nite, we dig it deeper and try to get a top on it. The darn things won’t keep a shell out, but I feel heaps safer in one. Sort of ostrich like complex, if I can’t see out, I figure they can’t see in, and the top keeps a lot of shrapnel from buzzing in.

I remember the first time I was under shell fire. We had taken over positions from the Boche, and as he had been there some time, trenches had already been dug with roofs over them. The shells were coming over very thinly(?), and we could hear the whine a long ways off. I used to think it kind of a big joke to beat the shell to my trench. It was rather exciting, but at first not dangerous. It wasn’t until there were several casualties that I began to see the serious side of it, and still I hadn’t learned my lesson. Our next step was thru Caen. All our vehicles were perched very prettily on a hill and I had just stepped out of our jeep, when Bang. All hell broke loose. I dived for the lowest spot I could see, and in between shells I scooped out the ground with my hands to get a spot to bury my head in. For an hour they came over and I was a pretty scared boy. When the shells quit for a while, I beat the wind getting below ground. There was nothing around to use for a roof, so for the next three days I shivered in that hole. When it rained everything turned to mud, and the concussion of shells landing close, blew the sides of the trench in. So now next to my good old _____? I push my shovel.

It’s hard to describe things as they were during that first month around Caen. I watched a 1000 bombers blast hell out of Caen. Turning day into nite with the smoke they raised. Distances were measured in yards, and there was a dead body every yard. Every village was pounded and re-pounded until it was a heap of rubble, the stink, ruin, and cries of the dying and wounded just about drove me insane. There was no let up, day or nite. After we broke away from Caen, it was a little easier. When I went to hospital near Falaise, I figured I was lucky, and the two weeks out gave me a chance to rest up and stop my nerves from jumping. It used to be if I heard any sudden noise or if anyone spoke to me suddenly I’d jump a mile. But the rest fixed me up again. After coming out, it was a lot easier except for the odd day or two. I rather enjoyed the rest of the trip thru France. The people were very friendly and gave us all kinds of fruit and stuff they had been saving for years. Things got a little difficult thru Belgium as it, like Holland, has so many canals, and Jerry put a fight up at each one. This blasted country looks as tho it s going to be the worst of all, as on top of all the other things, it is cold and wet.

As for me, I have kept in quite good health, but I won’t be sorry when it is all over.

My job these days is to pick up mines, check on booby traps, and other fiendish contraptions, as well as doing the odd spot of stem? shooting.

The biggest percentage of the new recruits have never even heard of a booby trap. (God knows how they have been trained in Canada). So being a Cpl, I have to worry about them, as well as myself. One thing the most of them have is guts, and they learn pretty fast here, or they don’t last long. Things on the whole aren’t too bad. We usually manage to have lots of fun between times.

Don’t worry Edna about the mistake you made in my number. I noticed on the letter that came before this. If it is addressed to the unit, it will reach me. When I was in hospital all my mail went astray. Letters from my wife in England didn’t reach me until long after I returned to the unit. I didn’t know I was a “Daddie” until nearly a month after and a telegram that Eileen sent informing me of the news took 2 months to reach me. Now that I’m back my mail situation is better. But still some of the parcels you sent haven’t arrived, and you can bet that burns me up. But when they do I’ll let you know, when they come.

Tell Percy he hasn’t anything on me when it comes to fishing. I don’t need any line or reel. If we get near a canal, we drop half a dozen Boche potato mashers in, and if there is any fish around, they sure come up. But I believe I would rather do it his way.

Well folks, I guess I’ll soon have to finish this as my candle is getting very low. Thanks again for your letters, and I will drop you a line soon again. I hope it will be a fairly quiet night here, but I suppose that is asking too much.

My little Julie Ann is doing famously. I’m waiting on a picture of her, my wife tells me she looks like me, poor kid. It is over two months old now and is getting bigger every day. I can hardly believe it is true yet. But I’m longing for all this to end so that I can see her for myself. I tell the wife all about my times at the C.L. So don’t be surprised if some day, we all pay you a visit.

God damned guns have started up again and just about to blow my candle out every time they fire. So will say so long and All the Best to you all

Sincerely, Jack.

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Letters from “Jack the Soldier” during WWII – a letter from his wife Eileen

Ah food, the universal language of love. Who doesn’t love a good blueberry pie? On the note of non universal languages, and the different ways that English speaking people can name the same thing – I was living in the states for a good 5 years before I figured out that a parking garage was the same thing as a parkade. As a Canadian kid, I’d always assumed the Fisher Price Parking Garage was some sort of mechanic shop where you took your car in to be repaired and filled up with gas. Not that it was just a parkade with a cool elevator. I loved the Parking Garage, but didn’t have one – I hade to go “all the way” to my aunt’s place and play with it along with my cousins in their basement. It was a great toy.

Thursday December 18th, 1944

Dear Edna:-

Hope you don’t mind me being so informal, but I prefer to be “Eileen” to people – it’s more friendly – so hope you feel the same way.

Have just collected some pictures of my handsome hero and thought as you’ve been so good to him, you’d like a copy. It’s a super one of him taken off a studio one he gave me on our first wedding anniversary.

I heard from him yesterday and he wrote from Paris, where he was on a 48 hour pass. Certainly had a good time and must have spent a fortune on presents and souvenirs for Julie and I and my folks. Sure hope they arrive safely after all his trouble buying them.

No doubt by now you have received my first letter – hope so. Jack will be pleased I’ve written you I know as he specially asked me to try to scribble off a letter to you now and again.

How’s that young rascal Marshall? Don’t tell me he isn’t, because he really looks it. What is the eldest girl’s name? I don’t think Jack has told me – if so I”m afraid I’ve forgotten.

I was reading an article in the paper where the Canadians say “spool of thread” where we say “reel of cotton” and one or two other things are tubbing (??) the newly arrived wives of Canadians – hm! Methinks I’ll have quite a game getting myself understood, but I’ll have to start taking easy lessons. Someone tells me the cooking over there is different – oh me! I’ll have to go to school or something. Never mind, Jack’s easy to please and is always willing to help, – so I’ll get by. He loved Blueberry Pie – what are Blueberries? – are they similar to Black Currants? I imagine so, because I made him a Pie with Black Currant filling and he promptly called it Blueberry Pie! I knew then that he’d enjoyed it!

Mother has gone to Birmingham for a few weeks, as my sister is having another baby and it seems she’s likely to have quite a time – her blood-pressure is very high. I’m acting “Head-Cook and Bottle-Washer” whilst she’s gone and with a baby to look after, I’m having quite a time – no time to worry! At least I still get out in the afternoons though for our walk, so I’m not doing so badly and no one has grumbled yet! Time will tell though. Julie is so good though, I have very little trouble her – she really draws a lot of attention to herself when we’re out. If anyone looks at her she gives them a smile and if they speak to her she really goes to town and does her best to tell them all about it. She loves to kick and squeals away, then chuckles. She amuses me as well as herself.

Well, I must close now, as my dad and sister have arrived in and are hungry. So must away and feed them.

So long now, will try and write again soon and maybe send some more pictures. Until then, God Bless you all, and may you have a very happy New Year.

Sincerely

Eileen Martin

Back of photo: When Julie was about 2 1/2 weeks old
Back of photo: Julie at 3 weeks old
Back of photo: Julie at 2 months

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