Griff writes to Ida referencing their walk and his cold. He thinks himself a little delirious from it, "there are about eighteen commas so far, now nineteen, so I have probably gone al Osbert Sitwell." A poet/author/politician chap, possibly of long writing style?
He thinks he could have passed his cold on to her but "if germs do exits, I am not afraid of yours; they must be nice ones."
Her dad is ill and therefore he will have to visit the Night Club - cards with friends - alone, and that will put him in a miserable mood.
Admiring a chair of hers, he warns her to "beware, or I shall walk off with it under the large mac." I must admit to feeling that way about cute dogs occasionally but not furniture.
He discusses music options on the radio, staying he likes to listen to the 11pm concerto in the dark but sometimes falls asleep. He once wok at 2am and "even Frankfurt had closed down."
He warns her against slimming, "awful things happen to people when they start slimming, or when they have slimmed Some fade right away. I've read about them in the Sunday press." Oh well then.
She's written a long letter to him it seems and it's such a shame we don't know if these letters survived or where they even could be.
She deserves huge rewards for her work in music, like actors and athletes get, "because after all you have either easily or painfully acquired a sound knowledge of music but it has cost you something in money."
After a good lunch, "I feel ready to face the Hallé practice, all prepared to look at he music without doing much about it."
He apologises for running out of time to write on the last two pages.
Ref: CARROLL/IGC/3 GG
With thanks to the Ida Carroll Trust
Date is unknown.
Part of the #NSM2020 project "A 20/20 Legacy: the centenary of the Northern School of Music" supported by the National Lottery Heritage Fund.