Letter of the Week

Every week, on this page, we will show a different letter from a selection of letters from Paul O'Prey's books on Robert Graves correspondence In Broken Images and Between Moon and Moon.

Date: NOV 1946

Recipient: Roberts, Lynette (1909-1995)

Location: Galmpton, Devon

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[No date]

Dear Lynette:

Thanks very much for your letter and offer of the flat; but we'll be in Brown's Hotel, Dover St, for the 7 or 8 days before we leave, so won't need it, but anyhow, it was very sweet of you.

So glad you like the Caldecott. It was got from a catalogue about 3 years ago. Every good child should have a Caldecott to cut its teeth on.

I have been rather amused by the reviews of my poems. Everyone has suddenly decided to 'recognize' me as one recognizes a new Government of some troublesome country. This is the first really cordial batch I've had since — 1916! I suppose I'm getting old and am no longer considered a rival to the younger generation. Anyhow, what the hell! Letters from friends like you who are also poets is another matter: especially if you can tell me how to improve anything there. Everyone has blind spots; that's what friends are for.

Love to Keidrych. Funny I have never met either of you, or Angharad, but as they say in Wales 'Two men will meet before two mountains.' I do hope he gets over his ulcers soon altogether.

This new child. The child itself determines on being born, I think, not the parents. Good luck to you when it comes! Yes of course one can't have 'only children'; not happily. But then the question is how to raise the second one without losing something of the unique glamour of the first born. Anyhow, it will be grateful for life and Angharad for a playmate. Very many thanks for the Wales and for the Pair Carridwen.

Love to you all

Robert

Gwyn Jones sent me a copy of the Welsh Review and some stuff about Alun Lewis. He told me he is editing a new Mahinogion this autumn with some other jones - David? isn't it? — this autumn at the Golden Cockerel. But when I asked him whether he realized that in the story of Branwen, Bran = 'Fearn' the alder god (hence the allegory of the bridge and the riddle 'no house could contain him': houses and bridges were built on alder piles) he didn't answer, thought me crackers, I guess.