大象传媒

The following account comes in a letter written by my Danish mother, Minna Scott, in 1944, to my father (then with the RAPC in Italy). My parents rented a flat in Warlingham; the house, 'Clearview', was owned by a Mr and Mrs Bellatti, who lived downstairs and were the friendliest possible landlords:

'Mr. Bellatti's son came for the week-end and I was invited down to tea on the verandah. The four of us were sitting comfortably sipping tea when the warning siren sounded.

Mr.B.: There it goes again!!

Young Mr.B: May I have another cup of tea please?'

Me: How I do hate wasps. Here is one in my honey.'

Mrs.B.: 'Yes, they are a nuisance. I will get a piece of Cellophane to put over the Swiss roll'.

Meanwhile three bombs are rapidly approaching.

Mr.B.: 'That one is very near. Hadn't we better get up?'

Mrs. B.: 'Now the cake is safe. How I do want my tea.'

Me: 'Oh! Oh! Oh! That wasp is determined to sting me. Help!'

Young Mr.B.: 'By the way, it is my wedding anniversary today; do you know I should like to have a change of wife, pity it is not allowed.'

Mrs.B.: 'Oh look! You spilled the tea when you carried the tray out.'

Me: 'It is coming down. Look over there!'

Mr.B.: 'Get down! Get down! It is coming!'

Young Mr.B.: 'Why, it will fall half a mile away at least. May I have another cup of tea, please? I am still parched.'

Mrs. B. is saying something, but owing to a colossal explosion only the tail-end of the sentence is heard. "... more bread and butter or would you rather have a piece of cake?" while Mr. B. is picking himself up from the lawn where he has thrown himself.

And so it goes on and I wonder what good it can possibly do the Germans to destroy the houses of the English, or possibly young Mr. B. is right when he says that Hitler's secret weapon is to ruin the digestion of the enemy by coming over at meal-times.'

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