July 5, 1945
You have had a hectic week of it indeed. I hope you did not tire yourself out with so many ceremonies.
I shall alternate between you and mother in writing and between letters and cards as some days are more eventful than others.
Sunday evening is a bit lonely here. The members of the Club are mostly at their homes, so I have dinner at 7 with just one man named Ottway who is the most taciturn individual I have struck in Halifax. I tried to get some chat going once or twice but gave it up and last Sunday I think he felt that he was too uncommunicative and started a conversation. It was like this
Ottway 'Did you hear thunder last night?'
I 'No, I didn't hear any thunder last night.'
A long pause of ten minutes and
Ottway 'I think it must have thundered last night.'
I 'Well I didn't hear it.'
Oatway five minutes further on.
'Well if it didn't thunder it lighttened.'
Answer. 'Perhaps it did.'
Ten minutes more.
Ottway 'By God that was thunder I heard anyway.'
By this time I got up, cancelled my dessert order and left the table with the remark 'Well, there might have been thunder but I don't give a damn.'
That was the limit.
Today there was another comic incident. When I was lecturing to the nuns in the Convent of the Sacred Heart, a button a brace's button fell off my trousers and rolled on the floor and kept rolling until it came to rest by the foot of the Mother Superior in the front row. I was embarrassed no end but managed to preserve my poise by saying that I was glad I wasn't reading from the end of King Lear at the moment. 'Pray you, undo this button thank you sir.' Just suppose the two things had taken place at the same time!
The nuns tittered when they saw the blamed thing drop & roll. Some of them straightened up and looked unconcerned; others looked just holy.
Well, between buttons and thunder I've had something to write home about.
so many ceremonies