So I Have Thought of You
Page 20
INFANT Where’s your mum?
ME I haven’t got a mum. I am a mum.
INFANT You can’t be a mum, you’re a lady.
This depresses me very much.
Tina has had toothache but has an appt: with the syndicate of demon dentists next week: she says it’s better now. Daddy has your letter with curr. vitae and will do all he can. This is just a note as I must go up to lunch with Mary (many manias to which I contribute).
Much love dear Ma X
185 Poyndersgarten
London, sw4
12 June [1974]
Dearest Ria,
No dreaded Black Water, but crippling indigestion so I daresay I have failed to assimilate the iron – I am obviously an unsatisfactory subject! So nice to see you, and Mary very struck with gardens and with ginger cake, which she seems not to have had before: I’d forgotten how nice it was, but yes! You look pale – I do wish you didn’t have to work in the vac: – I’m so sick of being poor!
Cousin Oliver asks me to dinner next Thurs – they’ve been rebuilding a quaint palazzo in Urbino and live there all winter and in quaint stonebuilt house in Ireland all summer and write and paint and never have to work at all. Would that be nice? Well, yes, it would be, but I suppose it has its worries.
Faced by piles and piles of foul A level scripts I have a sensation of wasting my life, but it’s too late to worry about this anyway.
Mary seems pleased about the book and I must say the printer couldn’t have been nicer or more patient: I think he’ll do his best to make the book look nice and that in a way is half the battle.
Do look after yourself my dear,
much love always Ma
best of luck with house-hunting
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
Sunday night [June 1974]
Dearest Ria,
Just a note to say how glad I am that it was such a glorious week-end, exactly right for bathing in mill-streams. I felt terrible because after all at the last moment the old lady we were going to see was whisked away to the Radcliffe (where as Tina pointed out you may well be putting electrodes into her) and so we didn’t need the car, but we couldn’t of course possibly have told this. So I sat here on my balcony getting on with this dreadful ticking, the never-ending pile of inky scripts.
Uncle Rawle and Auntie Helen are now coming over to stay with Mary on the 28th, I find all this very confusing and so does Mary – we shall just have to take things as they come.
I’ve just looked at myself at the glass and I see a decrepit sight: must try dyeing my hair with stronger tea-bags, like Death in Venice. Daddy says I mustn’t say anything more than 3 times: he is very severe today –
Much love darling
Ma
(I wonder how the dress is going)
P.S. Daddy thrilled with Da’s day card. – Anne Gallagher has bought a car! Says please come and see her as soon as you return
St Deiniols
Hawarden
Flintshire
27 August [1974]
Dearest Ria,
Here we are with Daddy having his 12th cup of tea of the day and reading a tec yarn and you may be doing exactly the same, but here it is sunny and windy with large white clouds and the grounds of Hawarden are full of bracken and falling leaves and large pheasants and you will be getting exceedingly brown. Well, I imagine you in your crystal-blue bay and send you all best wishes, you worked so hard for it and it’s worth it. – We rang up Tina who said she had the screaming Habdabs packing everything to go to Paris.
No screaming Habdabs here, it is very quiet, which is suiting us both, it really is. No-one else seems to want to play croquet so we have the lawns to ourselves with a lovely view over to the horizon, and the rabbits come out. We went to see Hawarden castle, an excellent ruin approved of by Daddy, and I got the key from old Major Sharpley the potty caretaker and there is a little chapel right in the thickness of the wall which is still used for services, it’s been there ever since the castle was built and fortunately wasn’t destroyed in various wars.
We are now gathering strength to walk up Moel Fammal – not quite as high as Delphi I think! Still it takes 2 hours.
I’m longing to know all about Camping Hellas, the cooking arrangements, loo &c. – these things interest me strangely.
No luck about my uncle Dillwyn and his secret work* – no-one will help me – but I shan’t give up.
We feel much better, but dreading going back to work and seeing Mrs Odescalchi. I mustn’t be ungrateful. Some nice letters from the girls –
Much love to you and John
X Ma X
I hope there is good water for John’s glasses – or do you switch to wine in foreign parts ( —– I think – I’ve forgotten even almost how to write the letters!)
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
6 October [1974]
Dearest Ria,
Thankyou for your note, and it was lovely to see you. I wd: have liked to say a few words in the morning, but you were so fast asleep. Tina also was sorry to miss the party, but is now much better after 2 days in bed: she didn’t want to miss her classes at Godolphin anyway, so early in the term.
I had a nice sunny day at Rye and a nice talk with Dr Alec Vidler,* who lives in an amazing 14th C. house, with lovely things in it and a view over the marshes to the sea, but also an electric fire with a log and cauldron over it and some frightful pix: mixed up with lovely old prints. He had a small Jack Russell terrier called Zadok, which sits on your lap and trembles. He was very kind and helpful about Uncle Wilfred and all my difficulties but gave me a frightful ‘light luncheon’ which nearly finished me off, comprising a home-made cold soup which was completely stiff, Cornish pasties, heavy as lead, from Simon the Pieman (where you got the fudge) and then an apple pie ‘which I’ve also purchased from Simon the Pieman’. This was also heavy as lead. Later came a surrealist tea-party with 3 people who’d come for the week-end (a trendy cleric, his dull wife, a long-skirted daughter, going up to read English at Hertford, who evidently hadn’t wanted to come, and Henry James’s manservant (still living in Rye, but with a deaf-aid which had to be plugged into the skirting) who couldn’t really bear to sit down and have tea, but kept springing up and trying to wait on people, with the result that he tripped over the cable – and contributing in a loud, shrill voice remarks like ‘Mr Henry was a heavy man – nearly 16 stone – it was a job for him to push his bicycle uphill’ – in the middle of all the other conversation wh: he couldn’t hear. At 4 p.m. the Muggs arrived, and Dr Vidler rushed out of the kitchen with two kettles and some flapjacks (from Simon the Pieman) which were so heavy that they almost cracked the plate: no-one could eat them except Dr Vidler himself, who looked very flourishing, and the ex-manservant. Malcolm Muggeridge was very nice and kind, and entered enthusiastically into the idea of my book, so that I feel encouraged; apparently he was converted by Uncle Wilfred at Cambridge, as everyone seems to have been, though Uncle W. certainly never tried to convert anyone. Mrs Muggeridge frail-looking and ethereal, but I didn’t have a chance to speak to her as I had to run for my train.
I am writing to Mrs Batey* to suggest we come on Sunday 10th Nov, and I hoped we could stay on Sat night, 9th, or if not room for both of us Daddy says he will go to a pub (!), I do hope this will suit you, anyway let me know what you think.
Keenly interested to know how it all goes, and how you find it about going to the labs: &c. Best of luck with everything,
much love always,
Ma, X
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
20 October [1974]
Dearest Ria,
Thankyou so much for your letter. It was a great pleasure to me to hear that the house was going so well, and that you’ve got a respectable sixth inmate. How will he be about cleaning the kitchen floor, I wonder?
We are quite all right – Daddy going to the doc: again on Wednesday to know result of tes
t: I can’t help feeling there must be some sort of microbe. I’m on at him, as they say, again to come straight home from work more often, partly for his own sake, partly for mine, because I had an obscene telephone call the other night and felt rather lonely – it’s strange because our number is not in the book.
Tina tells me there’s a lectureship in Logic and Maths going at Birkbeck, but I’m sure John knows this. – Tina and I were working together yesterday in the Brit. Museum, and putting our 2ps into the coffee machine. Terry came along having bought yet more books – Tina says the only hope is to open a second hand book shop! She seems so well, and really likes Godolphin, where she has of course great credit as she’s almost the only one who’s ever taught in a comprehensive: the ILEA keep writing and saying do you realise your staff at Godolphin are quite unsuitable for the new go-ahead
non-stream education &c. But where would they get a better teacher than Miss Rowe?
As to Miss Freeston, I went in early the other day and waited for her, to ask her about these vile schemes of the Freshwater Company to pull us down – the planning order at the moment only looks like they must leave the façade – she still looked a formidable figure as she came stumping along from Ashley Gardens with her stick and black hat – no Topsy now of course – and she was very clear-headed and took in all that I said – but she’s determined to fight it out – the solicitor above, a wily old bird, has 16 years of lease to run and he’s her solicitor too – so I shall try to fight it with her.
Well, that’s quite enough about education, you’ll say – otherwise, I’m struggling along – I cannot read the cipher in Dilly’s tin box, so I’ve sent it to little Mr Kahn, who I hope will help me. And I’ve bought a new vest! in M & S (not a cherub, unfortunately). Tina encouraged me to do this, and got a tweed skirt in the C & A. Next Sat: we go down to Cambridge to hear the news, and see how much Greg: (and Valpy!) have grown. Angie must be so happy to have them all together again. I must hear all about Peru before they set off for The Hague!
Although I know I must be cautious, I was delighted to hear you’re a bit more hopeful about the job research situation: I know your next year is on your mind, and feel useless that I cannot be of any help.
Mrs Batey sends another kind letter – looking forward very much to seeing you Nov: 9-10 love always Ma X
[postcard]
28 October [1974]
Just to say (though I expect you know already) that Francesca’s little girl, Helen, was born on Saturday and she’s in Radcliffe till Thursday (I think weight 7 lbs). Also the Westminster library are threatening us about a book on sleep – I can’t find it in your room – have you got it at Oxford? Much love, see you Sat after next, Ma X
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
5 November [1974]
Dearest Ria,
Lovely to see you and you were a most kind hostess to large family party. I hope you don’t think I was complaining about the lunch, I thought it very good – 2 green veg: is not bad, is it? – but I just took too much! I enjoyed the ceremony and so did Mary, but I agree with you Barbara Craig* is getting beyond anything – it was absurd that she said nothing at all to Mary – but I don’t think she’s at all well.
Poynders G. is now blackened like a battlefield with discarded fireworks. Let’s hope the dogs eat some of them and that this reduces the dog population.
Daddy got the car down to Chiswick all right, and will go down there on Monday morning and discuss about repairs, but I believe it will pass the test all right for this next year.
I have been spring-cleaning your room and in the process have turned it all white. I do hope you won’t be displeased at this – it does look a lot cleaner, and more like a physiologist’s retreat! Am washing the coverlet and curtains. If there are really bad strikes this winter, the candle mould may yet be used! But I’ve bought a hurricane lamp. I enclose the ‘lunch money’. Hope to come again tho’ your term is so short I think you’ll find it rushes by. Must design Xmas card –
much love dear Ma.
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
11 November [1974]
Dearest Ria,
We were so very sorry to go, it is so cosy and welcoming in your
house. We didn’t feel at all like ancient intruders, and it cheered me up to see all the housekeeping &c. going so well. I can’t imagine where you put everything – I never seem to have room, even now – but everything gets stowed away somewhere. Of course the spacious dining-room (which I suppose was formerly an outside w.c. and shed) makes a great difference.
It was a shame about the moped, and I was disappointed not to see you in action, but it may come back from the garage better than in the first place; my typewriter did.
I ought to have brought this form down with me, as it does require a signature as you see. Your passport number is —— but I can fill in all that if you wd: sign and get 3 awful photos and sign them up the left-hand front border – I feel the sooner we get all this done the better, and then we’ll be on our way, so to speak.
Mary is taking the last week in Nov: for her only holiday in the year, to distribute In My Old Days.* I do hope there are plenty of orders by then.
much love and many thanks darling
X Ma
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
23 November [1974]
Dearest Ria,
Just to begin with a request before I forget it – did I leave a book called Meditation and Mental Prayer by W. L. Knox in Tessa’s room? I value it highly, but can’t find it. If found, it’s not Joe’s – not his kind of meditation at all! – The library book about sleep I did find – down the side of the bed, I can’t think why I didn’t look there before – the other library book I haven’t found yet.
Very exhausted as Des the neighbour has been having an all-night party and is still going on (9.30 on Sunday morning!) I’m afraid the new baby is deemed old enough not to mind parties now. Let’s hope it’s the last one for a while, but I don’t know how it will be over Xmas!
Tina kindly came to tea with me in the pale green stuffy gilt-edged Army and Navy Club (waitresses in caps and aprons) to say good-bye to Marielle de Baissac who I’m afraid really is going to distant Malmesbury. I shall miss her so much, she was so sympathetic to all my absurd literary projects &c., and it was so nice to go to a house with a real wood fire. This made Tina very late for her evening class, and gave her indigestion from the toast, but she gallantly said it didn’t matter.
In My Old Days has been held up! As poor Mr Burroughs (gallant printer at Holywell Press) couldn’t get the cloth of the peculiar shade of blue Mary wanted, and there is much worry and distress – but he’s now promised it by Dec: 1st and I do pray he can manage it – it means so much to Mary. I’ve persuaded her to let him bind it in any colour he has on hand, and I wish we’d done this in the first place.
Belinda is recovering well from the terrible car accident – she must be 6 weeks in traction for the pelvis, but the stitches (on her forehead and chin) have healed very well and won’t leave a bad scar, and of course she has many visitors, the officers &c, but it’s a wretched business, and coming just after the one to Jay’s wife (of course Willie is down in Oxford looking after Jay and the 3-year old, who’s in a state of shock) while the baby is still in hospital being operated on – I didn’t know babies’ bones could break. Makes me worried at the idea of anyone going on 4 wheels at all, but I know you are very steady on your 2 wheels and as careful as you can humanly be – but you can’t guard against other people’s carelessness.
Meanwhile Rawle, Helen and Belinda can’t stand it at Prehen and must move again, but I don’t know yet where to: it’s been too much for poor Auntie Helen and she is recuperating in Dublin.
Petrol to go up to 75p a gallon, but I feel at the moment we must keep the car going – it is a priority. My long-term serious plan is that somehow or other I must be near either you or Tina, when eit
her of you ‘settle down’ – not to call in every moment and brood, but just so as to have a human link – I know it would be asking too much to hope to be near both of you. Of course I do not know if T. and T. will stay for ever in their maisonette, nice as it is, if Terry gives up his present school, which is such a dreadfully long journey.
How is your household, which impressed me so much. – Mary’s vicar (bossy, spiritual and bearded) annoyed me by leaning forward and saying intensely, ah your daughter lives in a commune. And how are you, and when may we hope to see you?
much love always X Ma
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
(which at least is still £7 a week only!
Let us be grateful for that!)
20 January [1975]
Dearest Ria –
Lovely to get a letter from you and know all is well in the house, as I think that you told me the diplomat was rather out of harmony at one time, but now all is well, which must make it much easier to work. Tina says she’s heard about this lunar month thing before, and I suppose it can’t be helped, but she should have made it clear at the beginning.
Tina’s dreadful cold now much better, but really she has not been well this winter, I’m so glad that one evening class has been given up, too.
I’m still digesting everything I saw in Russia. They really did make a very deep impression on me – those Northern capitals, with all those buildings under snow and those quiet drab people shouldering each other about and that terribly dead Lenin, and those golden palaces and theatres. When I shut my eyes at night I see everything again. It’s odd to think that all the time we were there Brezhnev was ill and they were scheming in the Kremlin as to who should have the power next.