A vistror from overseas was being shown round a little English, village, He saw the church and, the village shop and the school and all the rest of it, and to finish, he was taken to the local carpenter shop, where he watched the carpenter at work.
"A most extraordinary man, that," said the host. "He is deaf and dumb, yet he turns out the best work of any carpenter I kno A moment later the carpenter was seen running all over his shop looking for something which he appeared to have lost.
"What's the matter with him?" asked the visitor.
"Oh," explained his host, "he's hit his thumb with the hammer and can't find his pencil and pad."
Letters From An Aunt My dear Boy (Nat Gubbins of the "Sunday Express")
Your Uncle Fred is furious about the Russians not signing a pact with us at once—he says that's what comes of not dealing with gentlemen—after all most of the people in the British Government have been to a decent school, so what right have the Russians to doubt their good intention?—Your Uncle Fred says he wouldn't like to think what sort of school Stalin was brought up at.
Of course Emily has been complaining about the heat, lying about panting and asking us if we think she's got heat stroke—I told her if she stopped eating heavy puddings and drinking gallons of tea she would be better than any of us—you can never please Emily about the weather—in the winter she's shivering and snivelling with the cold, and in the summer she's sighing and puffing and scratching her midge bites—of course the hot weather always affects poor darling Porgy very badly—the vet has put him on a special diet, cool but nourishing, which includes calves foot jelly.
Florrie came round while we were having tea in the garden and told us that if anything happens they're going to use up all the old people, including women, as cannon fodder—she said the War Office has decided to do this to save casualties among the real soldiers who will be kept in reserve till the enemy: has exhausted his ammunition on us—she also said that the Air Ministry is thinking of sending old people up in Hawker Hurricanes and Spitfires as decoys—of course, Emily put down her cucumber sandwich at once and went straight up to bed, though we told her she wouldn't be any use as a war pilot even if she hadn't got Bright's disease.
Your Uncle Fred is very puzzled by his paper—during the crisis it told him to stop worrying because there wasn't going to be a war, and now things are quieter it's saying he ought to worry, as you never know what's going to happen—your Uncle Fred's paper is always bullying him about something.
With love from Aunr MAW.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.