DIY History | Transcribe | World War II Diaries and Letters | Helen Fox Angell letters to Bess Peebles Fox, July 1944-April 1945 | 1944-10-03 Helen Fox to Bess Peebles Fox Page 2

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Helen Fox Angell letters to Bess Peebles Fox, July 1944-April 1945

1944-10-03 Helen Fox to Bess Peebles Fox Page 2

for a bed at the Club, as it was packed.  I was in a room with six nurses on leave.  From the South, I should judge, as they left the heater on and the windows closed all night.  I ate a snack there and then phoned Jay to see if Maureen's letter of details of meeting had come.  It hadn't, so I went to bed.
I got up the next morning and asked if there was a message for me.  There was a telegram from her, saying she'd meet the noon train in Gourock.  So I got a cab and took the train and there she was.  She hadn't changed a bit, and is a darling.  She had a little cardboard sign "Croly" to hold up just in case I didn't recognize her.
We took the steamer across to Hunter's Quay, about a half hour ride across the Firth of Clyde and lugged the suitcase up to Citrel Cottage.  Her mother was waiting for us.  She is a dear, too, and very interesting.  She's almost blind, but you'd never know it.
They gave me a front bedroom with window onto the garden and on down to the Firth, full of white ships and just gorgeous, with Ben Lomond and the other mountains beyond
We had lunch, and I gave them my

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for a bed at the Club, as it was packed. I was in a room with six nurses on leave. From the South, I should judge, as they left the heater on and the windows closed all night. I ate a snack there and then phoned Jay to see if Maureen's letter of details of meeting had come. It hadn't, so I went to bed. I got up the next morning and asked if there was a message for me. There was a telegram from her, saying she'd meet the noon train in Gourock. So I got a cab and took the train and there she was. She hadn't changed a bit, and is a darling. She had a little cardboard sign "Croly" to hold up just in case I didn't recognize her. We took the steamer across to Hunter's Quay, about a half hour ride across the Firth of Clyde and lugged the suitcase up to Citrel Cottage. Her mother was waiting for us. She is a dear, too, and very interesting. She's almost blind, but you'd never know it. They gave me a front bedroom with window onto the garden and on down to the Firth, full of white ships and just gorgeous, with Ben Lomond and the other mountains beyond We had lunch, and I gave them my