by Barbara Pym
18 October. Lectures, then to the Bodleian where I talked to Lorenzo for a few minutes which seems to be the highest point of happiness in my life at present. He tells me that he and Jockie are having a flat in the Banbury Road which is at present half-furnished. He asked me to go and see him sometime and said I must go and eat with him one day. I think I should love to go – but probably it mightn’t be wise. Jockie has got a job in the Bodleian.
20 October. Saw Lorenzo waiting for a bus with the red-haired girl – his hair does need cutting – but it looks very decorative all the same. On arriving back at college we made coffee in Sharp’s room – I raved and soliloquised as usual.
23 October. Work, work.… Jock is in pale blue socks and suede shoes – Barnicot smiled at me (all jolly together). Lorenzo ignores me – and I ignore him. Oh Sandra, cheer up – you’ll forget one day.
28 October. Harry took me to the Walton St cinema in the evening to see The Virtuous Isidore – a superbly funny French film. Life is difficult, I don’t feel I’m treating Harry fairly – and yet what can I do. I’m sure he knows the position but he never says anything. If only he were more explicit.… Life would be considerably easier.
1 November. What a bad sign it is to get the Oxford Book of Victorian Verse out of the library.
6 November. Sharp and I went to tea with Frank Harding and a man named Naylor, to the Moorish. I like the Moorish exceedingly – the decorations and the divans and cushions in the corners. Harding is terribly amusing – he told us a good Groups limerick:
There was a young man of Pretoria
Who said ‘Things get gorier and gorier’
But he found that with prayer
And some savoir faire
He could stay at the Waldorf Astoria.
7 November. My Lorenzo is so beautiful – even if he has had his hair cut rather shorter than usual – the shape of his face and the line of his cheek fill me with rapture. He grows more affected – his smile of self-conscious fatuity is sweet – but one day it may seem silly. This afternoon he was in the Bodleian from 2.30 to 3.10. He snurged at me, but said nothing.
11 November. Armistice Day. I went to St Mary’s and everything outside was almost more silent than I’ve ever known it before. In the evening Harry took me to the flicks – Bebe Daniels in The Song You Gave Me – which was bad but amusing. Then to Harry’s rooms where I let him kiss me properly, and so gave up the ‘Lorenzo was the last person who kissed me’ pose – sad, but what’s the use. H. seems to be in love with me if he meant what he said – anyway we got on better than usual. I also had some beer and borrowed a book on Modern Art and some Proust.
14 November. In the afternoon I went to the Bodleian and he was there. My wretched heart was beating so fast I thought I should die or something – in the course of conversation he asked me to go and see him at the flat tomorrow afternoon and I implied that I would. When I got home I wrote him a long letter telling him the position and saying I could not go – it was a great relief to me to be able to pour out some of my griefs etc.
15 November. Found the following note awaiting me: ‘Do come this afternoon. I should very much like to talk to you. Thank you for this morning’s letter but don’t be mean. Try to get there before 3. I am not going anywhere at 5.30’.
I didn’t go – but oh how I wanted to! Can it be that my darling Lorenzo is sorry? Anyway I think still that it will be best if I can forget him.
23 November. Rather a depressing day. I went to the appointments committee and I broke the pencil sharpener in the Bodleian. My foot was bad so that I couldn’t walk properly. I also burnt my fingers on a kettle in the evening.
24 November. I discovered Samuel Butler’s Notebooks in the library which gave me great pleasure. At 5.30 Sharp and I went to the Yacht Club’s bottle party in Michael Rabone’s rooms at Univ. When we arrived Michael hadn’t come, nor was there anyone there that we knew. So we just sat drinking sherry, smoking, and eating salted almonds and potato crisps: feeling rather bored, especially as nobody knew our names to introduce us to anyone! There weren’t many women there and the men had collected into a group and were talking about yachting. When Michael arrived things brightened up a lot. The party had begun in the room adjoining Michael’s but we eventually migrated into Michael’s, where a noisy gambling game was in progress. A pity one always has to come away when things are getting amusing.
25 November. Went out to dinner at the George with Harry, and had the loveliest cocktail I’ve ever had – a sidecar, very iced. Also hock and good food. I wore blue lace – with three real red roses pinned on to the front. Also my long crystal earrings and makeup to match the roses. Very nice!
5 December. This was definitely a good day. In the morning I had 2 telegrams from Hilary saying that she was coming for interviews. That made me so excited that I couldn’t stay in College and work – so I went to the Bodleian. As I was going up the stairs cheerily half-whistling ‘In the Park in Paree in the Spring’ – I met Barnicot coming downstairs – we grinned broadly at each other and both said ‘Hullo’. He is a cheering up sort of person to see. I met Hilary at the cold and dreary LMS station. After taking her to LMH we came along to St Hilda’s and had tea in my room, then took her back again for her interviews. Then we went along with Pedley to the Museum – to see if her results were up. Of course she had got through, as I knew she would. She bought Sharp and me 50 cigarettes to celebrate. Lovely flat tins of Goldflake.
6 December. After tea I paid my Blackwell’s bill and bought a book of Restoration verse – then more Bodleian. After supper I went on a Banbury Road crawl – in spite of great weariness. There was a light in Lorenzo’s bedroom – is he ill, or packing, or was he just there. Anyway it gives me a little hope – and Jockie hasn’t been at the Bodleian for days.
7 December. In the afternoon we went to see Lord Irwin installed as Chancellor. It was a good ceremony – we, the rabble of the University, were consigned to the upper gallery but had a good view. After it, Roland Rahtz – Harry’s friend from Keble – approached me and asked me to tea – I couldn’t very well refuse. We went to Elliston’s – I can’t see any prospect of being interested in him – what shall I do. I don’t want to be unkind. Still there’s all the vac. for him to simmer.
9 December. I wrote a little note saying Goodbye to Lorenzo. A nasty tea all by myself in Hall (a new experience). Then a taxi to the station and into the 4.30. Quite a dull journey – going Paddington way one was able to catch a glimpse of the dreaming spires in the twilight of a December evening – romantic rime to leave.
11 December. London, Hatch End. Betse, Aunt Nellie and I went into town at about 11. I wore my fur coat – navy blue skirt and fez, and looked rather Turkish-Parisienne. We went to the Carlton and saw Mae West in I’m No Angel. She is said to be the rage of everywhere. Fat and not attractive – at least I didn’t think so – a purely physical appeal and crude technique. Her clothes were too fluffy and feathery on the whole. The shops are full of the most tempting things. I saw the divinest black velvet dresses in one shop which makes me determined to have one.
13 December. Heard the glad news that Hilary had got into LMH.
14 December. We had a good look round the shops without buying anything. Selfridge’s first – where what I liked almost best was the zoological department. There was the most adorable kangaroo there with eyes like Lorenzo and a long pointed nose. It loved having its neck stroked and closed its eyes in ecstasy. I would have loved to have had it – but it was sold – and anyway what would I have done with it?
22 December. Oswestry. I would love to be able to write a book like Moll Flanders which I’m reading slowly and thoroughly. And then there’s Christmas – Harry has sent me Peter Abelard by Helen Waddell which I’m sure I shall like. He is good to me. Lorenzo can’t even send me a card.
23 December. In the evening I had a card from Lorenzo. It was addressed in Jockie’s writing and inside was the inscription ‘Sandra from Lorenzo’. It was a reproduction
of a picture of St Barbara – sweet and quaint – the sort of thing that accords well with Jockie or Lorenzo.
25 December. Christmas Day. A very happy day in all ways – it made more happy by the card from Lorenzo and/or Jockie, a little thing but it helped to make the day perfect.
Hilary and I went to church at 8, where there was the usual large congregation, but we managed things well and managed to get into the first row of communicants. Then home to breakfast and the exciting ceremony of opening the parcels. I had some lovely presents. Besides food I had: From Auntie Nellie a glorious jumper in rich royal blue with white buttons – short sleeved and knitted in thick wool and an intriguing stitch. The welt is very deep and it fits beautifully. Little Annie sent a parcel for the family with pyjama cases for Hilary and me. From Pedley I had some lovely silk stockings and from Sharp a black crêpe de chine evening bag with a quilted front with SANDRA embroidered on it in pale blue silk – lovely. We listened in to a service broadcast from Christ Church, Oxford. Beautiful singing – the way they do the psalms is such a delight. Then Hilary and I went down the road to meet Ack and Winifred and they gave us a lift back. Winifred gave me a nice hankie and an elegant lemon coloured swansdown puff in a georgette hankie. From Ack I had a box of Dubarry bath salts, a painted matchbox and some sweets. We had a lovely Christmas dinner. Sherry to begin with and an 18 lb. turkey done to a turn. The afternoon was spent in laziness and eating, also listening in. I am knitting a most exciting scarf-of-many-colours from all the bits of 4-ply wool I’ve had left over from jumpers etc. After tea we went to the pictures to see Smilin’ Through. Leslie Howard is so lovely. In the evening the second act of The Mikado was broadcast which was great fun, and to end up the evening Henry Hall and the BBC Dance Orchestra gave the best programme I’ve ever heard from them. It included some lovely tunes full of memories sweet and poignant – ‘Stormy Weather’, ‘Won’t You Stay to Tea’.
1934
4 January. I have a new frock, crimson jersey – with a collar of red and white crochet which makes me say ‘Lo the poor Indian’ for some obscure reason.
7 January. I am reading The Belief of Catholics by Ronald Knox – but have not yet got far enough into it to know whether I shall become a Catholic or not.
8 January. At Marks and Spencer’s I bought a peach coloured vest and trollies to match with insertions of lace. Disgraceful I know but I can’t help choosing my underwear with a view to it being seen!
13 January. Oxford. In the morning I went to see Miss Everett, who seemed almost paralysed with horror by my red nails!
18 January. In the afternoon I went to the flicks with Harry – The Blue Angel at the Walton. It’s a horrid, depressing flick, and Marlene Dietrich revolting – but it was interesting. Coming down the High at about 5.50-5.55 saw Lorenzo on the other side of the road. I only really saw his back view – all romantic in the twilight. Leaving Harry hastily I sprinted up to Carfax, just in time to see my darling getting on to the top of a 2 bus, and so gliding out of my arms so to speak!
19 January. At Blackwell’s I bought a lovely set of Young’s Poems in 2 volumes – for 12/6 – green and gold with lovely mottled edges.
22 January. Having discovered that Lorenzo goes to some lectures on Mondays and Thursdays at 5, I arranged things so that I should be passing the Schools on my way to the Bodleian, just before 5. I timed it beautifully and met Lorenzo as I had hoped. I made no attempt to stop, nor did he, but he smiled and put out his tongue a little and said ‘Hello!’ He was looking very beautiful in a hat and overcoat, and was carrying his B.A. gown. At about 6.30 he came into the English Reading Room and looked at a book for a few minutes. We took no notice of each other. His hair needs cutting terribly and looks awful at the back; he was wearing a brown pullover, which goes with his eyes.
23 January. As I was going round Carfax I nearly walked into Lorenzo who was coming from the opposite direction. He smiled at me, I was so thrilled, and touched him. The rest of the day was dull. I bought a vivid scarlet cardigan to keep me warm in the Bodleian.
24 January. An exciting thick fog in the evening – Sharp and I took the opportunity to sleuth round the Bodleian. I had all the luck. I followed Lorenzo to Balliol – then Jockie down the snicket and we all of us met at Kemp Hall. Poisonous looks from Jockie, and amused ones from Lorenzo.
25 January. Tutorial and all that. I looked elegant in my fur coat, but of course saw neither of them!
26 January. I went out to the Bodleian in my little grey suit with a red hankie knotted round my neck. I sat reading – Chaucer and the Roman poets – when Lorenzo came and sat down beside me. I did not speak to him but we smiled at each other. I found it difficult to work. I looked out of the window at the nice little lower bits of All Souls against the pale blue sky. I remembered having done the same on the evening of May 10th 1933. ‘Sed sic sic fine feriati’.… I thought. I was in fear lest he should go, and eventually he looked at the clock (it was just before 12) and showed signs of going. But first he leaned over and said ‘Come and have tea with me today’. I refused but said I would next week. He suggested Tuesday. He asked me how I liked my Christmas card – and apparently he had sent it. After he’d gone I picked up a piece of paper he’d left on the deck. It was written in a kind of palaeographic script (I imagine). Of course I have kept it among my Harvey-Liddell relics (of which I now have 3).
27 January. In the afternoon I went shopping by myself. I saw Julia Pakenham looking superb in a turquoise blue frock and new halo hat. She was wearing a fur coat, so one couldn’t see how fat she was.
5 February. A helpful Spenser revision class with Rooke. Very funny too, as she had a great cauldron of marmalade boiling on the gas ring!
7 February. In the English Reading Room the only vacant seat I could see happened to be by Lorenzo. He was looking particularly nice. Blue shirt, blue spotted tie, brown pullover and the usual brownish coat – and most delightful of all – his black trousers. I glanced at him occasionally and thought how much I loved him. Sometimes he looked my way and made a remark, such as ‘We do work hard, don’t we?’
13 February. In the afternoon I looked up Jockie’s brother in the Cambridge University Calendar. He is called Donald Stewart Liddell and is a Senior Wrangler. Lent begins tomorrow – I light my last cigarette!
21 February. Up early helping to feed the Hunger Marchers at the Corn Exchange. We piled up blankets – took round tea and porridge – cut bread – buttered it – made and packed meat and jam sandwiches. There was a lot to do, and I did enjoy it. Hilary Sumner-Boyd was there in green velvet trousers – he is pleasant to talk to and looks so exactly like a girl – somehow one doesn’t associate him with Communism. At about 9.45 we left together with the Hunger Marchers – the idea of me marching behind the October Club banner (which I did) was ludicrous – also shouting, under the direction of a kind of cheer-leader ‘1-2-3-4 – Who are We For? We are For the Working Classes – Down with the Ruling Classes. Students join the Workers’ struggle’ etc. Still I wish them luck even if I do disapprove of much that Communism stands for.
26 February. In the afternoon I went to have some passport photos taken at Elliston’s. They will be pretty terrible I expect, as I was grinning a large teethful grin. At Bodley in the afternoon Lorenzo came in. He has a new coat – greyish, rather nice. He looked extremely beautiful and stood quite a long time by the Bibliography books where I could see him. I must be still pretty badly in love with him, as I trembled all over when he came in, and could hardly write.
Coming back from Blackwell’s at about 3.30 I met Lorenzo in the snicket and he invited me to tea tomorrow, but, having a tutorial at 5.30, I couldn’t go. He asked me to go on Friday and we left it uncertain – he saying he’d expect me. I want to go, but I will not be treated in this rude and casual fashion.
1 March. He has not answered my letter – perhaps I should not have expected it. I do seem to mess things up so hopelessly and there is no one to help me. At 4.45 I met him in the street and
almost cut him dead – fool that I am – He came into the Bodleian twice but he did not speak to me – and when I heard his footsteps disappearing out of the picture gallery I nearly burst into tears there and then.
8 March. Lorenzo was in the English Reading Room, he smiled sweetly at me. I was jealous because he spoke for a little while to a girl – and so I said ‘Goodbye you hound’ as I left. Tea with Harry and then a hilarious dinner at the Town and Gown which I enjoyed a lot.
9 March. In the Bodleian I observed the girl Lorenzo spoke to the day before. She is my rival and lives at 105 Banbury Road – and is called Alison West-Watson. To look at she is remarkably like Lorenzo, same sort of colouring, mouth and eyes, and I think she is rather attractive, although not made up or particularly well dressed. I am really rather jealous of her as Lorenzo is always praising her up, and comparing her with me, to my disadvantage. Some of it may be only fun, but it hurts. I was setting out to go tea with him, and just as I’d got to the Botanical Gardens YR drew up beside me and I got into the back where Lorenzo was. Barnicot and Edward Gardiner were in front. We did some shopping and then all went to the flat where we had tea. Barnicot and Edward were nice, but Lorenzo was horrid to me, teasing me about West-Watson and saying rude things. Edward and Barnicot went before 5 so that Lorenzo and I were left alone. We sat in silence and I felt miserable, then into his room. He was not kind to me and his attitude towards me was made so cruelly obvious – and he would not stop talking about W-W. All the time I was getting more and more unhappy, until suddenly I burst into tears and cried more than I’ve done for years. It was as if I’d felt it coming for days – my love for him, his indifference to me, the mess I’d made of my affair with him, and the fact that I was leaving him probably for another woman to have, was simply too much for me. When he saw my tears he was quite nice to me – and promised that next term we should be good friends and go on the river together. By the time I was more or less clothed and in my right mind Jockie came in. I was terribly glad to see him. He and I went and cooked the supper and talked a lot, while Lorenzo more or less sulked in his room and put on the gramophone – Tannhäuser too! Jock is so kind, and amusing, and I like his laugh, and the way he wrinkles up his eyes when he’s amused. He told me a few things about Lorenzo which made me realise even more than I had hitherto done, what a terribly difficult person he is. And Lorenzo himself was frightful at supper – he just sat and sulked with his glasses on and stared down at his plate. He did not speak to me at all except to be rude. If it hadn’t been that Jockie was so nice I don’t know what I would have done. I stayed until nearly 10.30 and I had to do all my packing when I got back to St Hilda’s, and was too tired to think much about the way Lorenzo had behaved to me and my miserable future prospects, the worst of it is that the more I know him the more I seem to love him, in spite of all his faults.
