Love from boy Letters
Q: Dear Mama
…
Golf balls go yellow, but that’s nothing—mine do too, like everything else that’s not used. (c)
Q: Dear Mama
… I’m a bit drunk so you won’t get much of a letter. …
what with lobsters nipping our toes & sharks biting the old balls—However, I am not yet talking falsetto.
… the alternative is that I wait until I’m sober & miss the bloody mail & you’ll probably think I’ve been eaten by a rhinoceros or a white ant or something equally dangerous. …
… Apologies for the frivolous note, but better next time, and now there is nothing I’d like better than to fall straight into my bed and Hitler can go & fuck himself. ...
This is a picture of Hitler fucking himself—note the smile of ecstasy on his face. (c) According to Roald, H. comes equipped with a bunch of 'bat Belfries'! My absolute favorite letter!
Lovely!
Q:
His mother, “desperate” at what she saw as his lack of ambition, sent off to have his horoscope professionally read. The psychic predicted Roald was going to be a writer. Sofie Magdalene kept that information to herself. (c)
Q:
Probably the most enduring legacy of this strange hiatus in his life was the weighty metal ball he constructed from the silver wrappers of the chocolate bars he ate for lunch each day. He later kept it as a talisman in his writing hut. (c)
Q:
inspired by his friend, the pilot Alec Noon, who flew small commercial aircraft out of Dar es Salaam, he decided instead to join the Royal Air Force and train as a pilot. At the end of November he drove 900 miles north to Nairobi. As he did so, he later recalled that he was transfixed by the gentle beauty of a family of elephants he encountered on the way. “They are better off than me, and a good deal wiser,” he mused. (c)
Q:
For half an hour we sauntered round looking for the elusive Carl Christiansen. (c)
Ugh, how did he survive that?
Q:
We skate on the yard; we had a fine time last night after tea; You see, the chaps who haven’t got pairs, pull you. At one time I had eight chaps pulling me with a long rope, at a terrific lick, and I sat down in the middle of it; my bottom is all blue now! We also have ‘trains’; you get about ten chaps to pull, and with a long rope, and all the roller-skaters hang on to each other, and go around; but if one chap falls all the ones behind him come on top of him! The yard is getting quite smooth now . . . (c)
Q:
When he looses his temper he goes completely mad, he rushes round the room, tips his desk clean over, with everything on it, kicks all the furniture in the room as hard as he can and especially his grandfather clock, which is gradually ceasing to exist. He shouts and yells, rushes round the room, and on Wednesday he nearly threw himself out of the window! I’ve never seen anything so funny in my life. (c)
How quaint:
Q:
I am very glad I did not have to go through the horrors of promiscuity that torture today’s children. In this benighted age, girls and boys treat the sexual act rather as rabbits do, or cattle . . . Some of you may not believe this, but I promise you that a young man in the 1930s would have to court a girl for six months before he got anywhere near the mattress. He would have to ply her with flowers, give her meals he could ill-afford and behave generally with immense circumspection. If he tried anything too early, he got the boot. (c)
On Nazis & military & WW2:
Q:
And if Alf, Else or Asta want to go nursing they can do it anywhere in England in one of the numerous country houses which will be converted into hospitals, without going buggering off to the front wherever that may be. …
On the short wave I can get the news from England (fairly authentic), from Italy in English (very garbled), from Germany in English (more garbled still) and from America in American (very detailed, but not too reliable). …
Why doesn’t Mussolini take up some useful hobby; he could collect bird’s eggs instead of countries; he’d probably say that it was cruel. As for Hitler, if he must keep his mind on guns, why doesn’t he concentrate on a little vigorous fornication. Wasn’t it Hitler who said to Göring after a piss up one Saturday night, ‘I am ready for a whore.’ (c)
Q:
When interviewed later by reporters Dog Samka was heard to remark: ‘I found french letters fried in liquid paraffin very nourishing, I shall always carry a packet with me in future in case of emergencies’—this was immediately cabled to Hitler under the heading ‘Strength through Joy’, and his reply is eagerly awaited in official circles. (c)
Q:
Perhaps I should explain that Hitler & Mussolini are 2 lizards which live in our sitting room. (c)
Q:
There’s no point in joining the local army, who do very little, having very little to do... (c)
Q:
January 12th 1943
… —they’ve suddenly realised over here that there’s a war on, and have forbidden people to use their cars for pleasure purposes,… (c)
More:
Q:
comprehensive and fascinating account of Roald’s school days in the 1920s and 1930s, of his time in Tanganyika just before the outbreak of war, of his training as a fighter pilot in Iraq and Egypt, and of how he saw action in Greece and Palestine. They chronicle his time as a diplomat in Washington too, and his foray into intelligence work in New York, as well as recording in fresh detail how his career as a writer began. (c)
Q:
Stepping into Sofie Magdalene’s shoes, we can experience his adventures, recounted in his own unique voice: a delightful and sometimes disconcerting mixture of honesty, humor, earthiness, and fantasy. And, as we do so, we will be aware of something she was not; that we are watching the world’s favorite storyteller emerge as a writer.(c)
Q:
Roald would later describe the school as “rather like a private lunatic asylum.”(c) Yeah, schools often get that way
Q:
Oh dash, I’ve just dropped my pen onto the letter, and there isn’t time to write it out again. Incidentally, the pen thought it necessary to make a blotch over a certain word [CRAP], but it did not quite succeed in covering it up!! (c)
Q:
He must be having a fine time now; he said he sits down and smokes, and watches bugs through his microscope.
Q:
… the noise closely resembles that of a fly’s kneecap, rattled about in a billious buttercup, both having kidney trouble and lumbago! (c)
Q:
Had rather an amazing lunch on the train. First while I was having my soup I leaned my Daily Mail I leaned it up against my bottle of cider, and the bottle promptly decided to fall over: much good cider on opposite seat. The next course was an egg (poached) covered in Spaghetti!! Jolly good. Next a chicken with breast meat on its legs! Probably a crow. (c)
Q:
. . . On the edge of the lake, Crummers, a fat master, was patiently instructing his small daughter to skate. Suddenly the ice gave & they both went in. Of course they were pulled out, but the only thing that Crummers said to his daughter while they were in the freezing water was ‘keep cool’ . . . (с)
Q:
Yesterday we took off our shirts & immediately became the centre of attention in the ant world. The little devils crawled all over us, taking a particular fancy to my ears, where, no doubt they found a delicious food hitherto unknown to the ant. Then a large cow nearly mistook Smith’s head for a thistle, so as a punishment we tried to milk it. But it wasn’t having any nonsense and it was far too hot to chase it. (c)
Q:
… as I said before—don’t get excited, I’m not becoming a toper. (c)
Q:
Today is one of the numerous Indian holidays—thank goodness, so we’ve got a chance to recover from a week’s solid, non-stop celebration. (c)
Q:
Mrs. Taubsypuss is a beautiful blue Persian like Mowgli, and she’s not half so Kali as Oscar; but she too has her weaknesses. Hers (and here she’s one up on Oscar) is sex. She has 2 kittens, 3 weeks old, which are no more like a blue Persian than my bottom—they, indeed, are Kali in the extreme and spit at you if you approach. You see she apparently took her pleasures with a wild cat (we were all agreed that to do this she must be very, very tough indeed, and we gave her full marks), and the result is more like a couple of baby tigers than anything else. (c)
Q:
They’ve got some marvellous new stuff called Atebrin which they straightway inject into your bottom in vast quantities which suddenly brings the temperature down; then they give you an injection of 15 or 20 grains of quinine and by that time you haven’t got any bottom left at all—one side’s just Atebrin and the other’s quinine. …
If any of you want to do a bit of slimming hire an anopheles mosquito and ask him to bite you. (c)
Q:
… cajole, hector, and browbeat... (c)
Q:
We had a large snake in the swimming bath last week. About 100 people swam quicker than they had ever done before… (c)
Q:
You usually arrive at a place well before you get there, and you start to get ready to go after you’ve left. (c)
Q:
Furthermore the child has Norwegian, French and English blood and should therefore be a whizzer. (c)