Your Uncle Fred is very touchy these days—he simply cant understand whats happening about Russia—only a few months ago his paper was calling the Russians Red Scum and now its talking about an alliance with them as if they were gentlemen—of course your Uncle Fred believes in taking their help and making every possible use of them so long as one-doesnt' have to come in contact—he thinks the Polish idea of letting them fly over the country but not landing in it is the best—after all even if people are on your side you dont have to mix—Uncle Fred thinks it will be alright if they fly over here at a minimum of 10,000 feet—unless they're Grand Dukes of course.
Poor darling Porgy has had tension stomach and no wonder with all this war news and the wireless—he wont touch his puppy biscuits even when mashed with real turtle soup—tinned naturally—still the poor darling has been very brave and is the first in the family to join up for National Service—I have bought him a little khaki cap with a rosette like a recruiting sergeant and on his little chest I have hung a card with the words "Doggies protect you—what are you doing to protect doggies?"—as I told Emily if she did something for her country like driving a lorry she could resign from the Moaning Club and we wouldn't hear so much of her aches and pains and colds—now she thinks shes got appendicitis though I expect its only a tightening up inside through the crisis which is nothing but fear and very un-British, Florrie came round to tea and told us that the French tanks are all made of cardboard—when I said how do you know she said a friend of hers was driving in France and collided with a tank which crumpled up like paper—Florrie also said that German bombers come over every night picking out likely spots—thi Emily off to bed again just when she thought she could eat a soft boiled egg—so I had to give it to poor darling Porgy but it only made him sick. Aunt Maud
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.