Did I tell you that Miss Ashbee (art teacher) was on the Thompson’s trip that I should have been on, the one before: she thinks it’s all very odd, and keeps questioning me closely! I told her we went to Moscow first, and so must have missed her – she appears to believe this. She asked how I liked the New Year in Russia? I said ‘Oh, we were met by maskers and buffoons’ – which is what it said in the pamphlet. I think she thinks I’m cracked.
Daddy is having his weekly Bath, and is going to boil me an egg when he comes out. He says, would you and I like to come to Vienna with him for the Easter week-end? I can’t recollect what you said about Easter – would you like to come, or would you be too busy? I know you’re staying in Oxford to work – don’t think I’ve forgotten everything!
John collected your hottie and alarm clock – but your flannel is still there – do you want it?
I have got a new skirt in the Sales – perhaps I could wear it when I come to Oxford, Feb 8th or whenever, I don’t think it’s embarrassing. It is orange tweed again, but longer. Marks and Spencer’s blouses are over £5 now, it’s dreadful. But I should be past caring about clothes. However, I must have another longer skirt for summer, plaid cotton perhaps.
I should love to see Neil’s exam paper – I wonder if he has a copy –
much love always Ma X
Could you keep the £28 in your account against next term?
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
25 January [1975]
Dearest Ria,
John came in to fetch one or 2 things, and said you did not need your ‘flannel’ any longer – it was to be discarded – but this seems reckless.
I am sorry Oxford didn’t come up, but he takes it philosophically as always. I suppose if he did decide on the Bank of England he’d be eligible for the mortgage loan at 21/2%%, which would be something! But not everything.
Tomorrow is of course Sissy’s birthday and I am anxiously making an apfel strudel, as I know she likes them and they are too much trouble to make ordinarily. I have NOT lost your mysterious parcel wrapped in red tissue paper. We went on Thurs. night to get her a new pair of shoes, which I thought would be quite fun, but none of the shoes were really what she wanted, all very heavy, or very high [drawings], and not what she wanted, to wear with a dress – we did get something in the end, but not really right I fear. I also got a book of the Impressionists in the Louvre as I know they liked them in Paris.
Tina is madly buying a hoover ‘as like a trundler as possible’ and another bookcase, as the books are overflowing again! (Q. – as Terry genuinely wants a quiet dull job, to save energy for writing and poetry, wouldn’t he be happy in a bookshop?) But then, one doesn’t make any money there.
My old crony Mme. de Baissac, is definitely going to Malmesbury – has rushed up there with all the carpet, tiring herself out – and really seems to be getting dreadfully wandering and confused – I hope she’ll be better when the move is over. I shall have to save up to go to Malmesbury on a day ticket – not that it’s on the railway. – And Lord Clwyd (another crony) has fallen out of an apple tree, and has to creep about slowly – yes, we’re all getting very old! (the Clwyds somewhat older than me). He kindly sent an original watercolour by Beatrix Potter to the staff-room for me to look at.
Daddy has been to fetch his new suit – pepper and salt with a waistcoat and narrow trousers – it suits him, and now he can go to the S. of France in it next week-end.
Oliver writes that his novel is coming out on June 9 – it is to be called The Italian Delusion and Charlotte has done the jacket – you could have done my jacket, if I’d been allowed any say in it, but they never asked me!
The Russian snaps will be ready next week and I’ll send them, or Tina or John could bring them.
much love always Ma X
Let me know about Vienna at Easter won’t you? I’d thought John would be at Gomshall, but perhaps he’s not!
Queen’s Gate
Monday [11 February 1975]
Dearest Ria,
Thankyou for your letter. I look forward to getting them. I hope
you’ll always write!
I think I’d better go to Vienna for Easter. As T and T will be away in the caravan (I hope the weather will be good and nothing indigestible is served) and I shall be ready to tuck you up with a cup of tea for a good rest when you do come back. Some rest you must have, and the fairy-like disappearance of The Mushroom has made some difference to the noise, although the ice-cream men, driven insane by the cold weather and reduced sales because of the high prices of Freez-ee whip, seem to call even more often.
Mary is not taking the job with the Diplomatists’ magazine, she’s been very spirited about this, as they refused to make a proper arrangement about the £££, and she is staying at home for 2 months to do the Mary Poppins cook-book – Pamela Travers writes daily from the U.S.A. to make new suggestions, and to ask why the rolling-pin is not floating on the ceiling &c. Mary has to do 10 full page pix and the book jacket. She says it feels odd not going down to work every day, and so it always does at first.
Daddy had a very nice time at Nice, I think – he went in his new suit and it was carnival time so he had plenty to watch from his balcony. General Bertrand* was an ancien militaire of the most correct type and his wife anxiously looks after him, like Mary did for Grandpa, and kept drawing Daddy aside and begging him not to let the General go upstairs to fetch more souvenirs de la guerre as he might never totter down again. The General’s stomach has been ruined by drinking vodka in the war in order to encourage Polish secret agents, so that he can now take nothing but water, but he offered Daddy red and white wine, good thing I wasn’t there to frown pointedly! Oh course Daddy couldn’t eat all they ordered in the restaurant at Theoules, where the General was mayor for 18 years, so you can guess how excited the proprietor was, and no justice at all could be done to the immense chocolate cake. The whole subject of Enigma is getting so complicated, but I won’t burden you with all this.
On Sunday we dropped off the largest tin box with Christopher** and Joanna, so at least I’ve got rid of that out of the flat. We were greeted by the geese, who certainly guard the cottage very well (do you remember Clancy?) and are a tactful idea of Joanna’s, as Xtopher is rather afraid of dogs. I had a sudden idea how nice it would be to live in a cottage, with geese, but Daddy said nonsense. The air smelled so nice and fresh. Then we went on to Bletchley to take photographs (Peter’s camera, not well understood by us, so many bits and pieces) and as we had some time left over we went on to Woburn Abbey, wh: Daddy had never seen, of course there weren’t many people there, being February, and it was lovely in the thin sunshine. We looked at all the pix and had a cup of tea. (8p – I ask you) in the Flying Duchess cafeteria named after the eccentric countess who disappeared in her single-seater aircraft at the age of 70. Some of the rooms are really lovely, but the Flying Duchess had hers hung with paintings of dogs and kittens from floor to ceiling, and her skating boots were there – of enormous size. You can see the pond from the window, just filmed over with ice.
Daddy is still trying to take a good snap of me as the publisher has to have one, but I’m not a good subject.
I had dinner with Jeannie and enjoyed it very much (indigestion though from the rich food) but couldn’t help smiling after din: when the guests all (except me) discussed whether it wasn’t a good idea to strew £5 notes about the room when you left the house to divert burglars from the valuables. They were all very nice though.
Tina’s headache is better and she is definitely giving up evening classes (Terry to take them till the end of term) and has promised to go to Miss Dean and say she can’t teach in every lunch hour. I’m sure Miss Dean will be sympathetic. Tina is doing so well and has 2 people who want to do Oxford entrance. It’s all overwork, I’m sure, not organic.
Love X Ma
Stop Press: Valpy and Angie’s new baby due in 3rd week of August! They thought we knew this, but we didn�
�t!!
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
Sunday 24 February [1975]
Dearest Ria,
Lovely to see you, and am now sitting on the Terrazzo among my daffs and washing, hoping you enjoyed the Odessa File. I really had a lovely day yesterday (in spite of your thinness!), the picnic was so funny, and since it was a bit of a failure when we went down to Cambridge it was particularly nice to see Valpy being his normal self. I perhaps should apologise about the dreaded anorak. Valpy did ask me why I had come in combat dress. But it is warm as you know and I’ve felt rather queer lately and dread getting ill again as I had to give flu as an excuse for my Russian holiday and was much embarrassed by everyone’s sympathy.
Looking through my Advance Proof I find that many of the lines are out of order so that it makes no sense at all. Do you think they’re always like that? Perhaps it’s an improvement really. Anyway, looking through a pile of mouldering mss I’ve decided my book is dull and unintelligible anyway. I had to cut out so many intervening sentences that I can’t make head or tail of the incidents. (This was at 2 a.m. however.) Then I overslept and was late for church. There is a moral in all this. –
Tessa and Neil were most kind and welcoming when we arrived, it was much appreciated.
I shall ring up Tina about the cheese dish this p.m. – After lunch today I have to go and see a potty lady (less potty than myself, however) the secretary of the Lytton Strachey trust, about some papers. Going to Blackwell’s sale had a sobering effect, however, so many potty ladies, so many biographies. Clearly it comes over one. Meanwhile, the flat is filthy, and all Daddy’s clothes in rags!
much love darling –
Ma X
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
3 May [1975]
Dearest Ria,
Just back from Tina’s, and Monday tomorrow, Ugh! They come round so quickly, but perhaps you don’t find that yet.
Tina’s very disappointed, as I expect she’s written to you, that the oculist says glasses would not help her strange double vision and headaches, although it’s comforting to think that he said her eyesight was so good, the best pair of eyes he’d ever tested, he said. But he wanted her to go to hospital to see an ophthalmic surgeon in case it might be some kind of nervous thing, because after all an oculist is only an oculist. It does seem to get much better when she isn’t tired, but then all these eye things do. Everyone seems tired – I don’t know what age it begins at.
We went over to Walthamstow (still no cottages for sale!) to see the new arrangement of the William Morris Galleries, which seems to me to consist of lowering the lights and removing a lot of the things, I can’t think where they’ve all got to. They used to have quite an interesting bit showing how Morris did indigo printing, bleaching out the white parts of the pattern, and how he glazed his tiles, and there was the enormous breakfast cup Morris had, because the doctor told him only to take one cup of tea – all gone, heaven knows where. It’s very artily arranged, but there’s so little to look at.
All the photographs of me make me look hideous beyond measure, so that I feel quite frightened to go out into the street and show my face, if I really look like that, and what to do about the publicity lady I don’t know: perhaps they don’t really need one.
Next weekend down to Cambridge. I am making Little White Dresses, but, like all white sewing, it is beginning to look exceedingly soiled. I often drop asleep over it.
We are watching some dreary music by Michael Tippett and Daddy keeps saying ‘When does the shooting start?’
Weighed down with frightful exam papers to correct: I keep counting them to see if they’ll get any less –
much love, darling
Ma. X
[postcard]
[March 1975]
Sunday, Dearest Ria – You’ll forgive p.c. this week as the exams and reports have set in with dreadful force. I feel a bit overwhelmed, and find it very difficult to teach anyone anything: The Songs for Europe are on too, and I haven’t the energy to switch off, and they’re horrible. To Cambridge yesterday where A. is better, we drove out to a pub in Fen Ditton where unfortunately she felt faint but all was well, little Greg in great form and now a keen footballer and gardener, pulling up all the plants. V. just back from The Hague* – £200 for a week’s lectures so he’s having the fence mended. Tina also very tired and you too I’m sure, my dear. Looking forward to seeing you.
X Ma
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
5 April [1975]
Dearest Ria,
Lovely to see you in snow-bound Oxford on Thurs: And so that is the Nose Bag, which I’ve heard about so often! It was very nice, but what hard work someone is doing, to home-cook all that food – it really does taste home-cooked, though.
I had to take shelter in Littlewoods in the end, it was so cold – I’ve never been glad to be in Littlewoods before, I had to pretend to examine some cardigans, like a store detective. But I arrived at the Lobels at exactly the right time – they were very kind (though Prof. Lobel** is a mere boy of 85 so I must have made a mistake about the date of his publication). He was out having his constitutional, so Mrs Lobel showed me some marvellous maps she is getting ready for publication, they show the mediaeval plan imposed in colours on the present map, I don’t like that sort of thing usually but I couldn’t help liking these. Presently the Professor’s wavering step was heard on the uncarpeted stairs (the whole beautiful little house was freezing except for a small coal fire in the drawing-room, but I’m used to this) and Mrs Lobel said: ‘I hope Edgar will talk to you as he is very eccentric and sometimes takes dislikes,’ however, I got on rather too well with the Prof as he spent nearly all the time telling me about his emendations to Aeschylus (’You will of course be familiar with the first two lines’) but he was very nice. There were some of those frightful cakes made of chocolate and cornflakes, in fluted paper cups, Mrs Lobel had bought them specially, and the Prof had never seen them before and examined his critically, but neither of them could eat them, so I had to have one.
I am just watching the National – T and T have got a colour TV now! So they’ll be able to see it in colour. All my children are going up in the world: I suppose the black-and-white is beginning to look rather dowdy.
I got Daddy’s savings book back just in time before it all went! He never did transfer the £50 from the other book but drew all that out, and then he started cashing the deposit and took out over £300! I don’t know what he did with it and nor does he! It seems he had a dreaded Barclay card too at one time, I should never have let him lay his hands on these things.
Tina and T. have a week by themselves in the caravan at Whitsun, which sounds very nice – but I suppose you won’t really be able to give yourself a break until after the Finals, but then…I must say I should like some sea air myself. (We were going to Brighton today, but poor Daddy is ill again and retired in a heap under the bedclothes.)
It is Friday 19th evening you’re coming, isn’t it? I’m looking forward so much to seeing you –
much love always –
Ma X
Queen’s Gate, sw7
(Ugh!)
Wednesday [April 1975]
Dearest Ria,
I really mean it when I say it was lovely to see you. It cheered us all up and it was good for Mary (as she subsequently said to me) not to have a serious business talk but to hear about the (equally serious if not more so) things that you’re doing and hoping to do. (Anyway, Nora, Kipper’s wife, has declared that she doesn’t want Mary helping there in the house on any account – so polite! – and I think Mary’s pride ought to tell her not to go on offering – much better just to call there from time to time, and see how her father is).
You looked remarkably well considering all things. I do think of you such a lot, and how hard you are working, but I thought I wouldn’t say too much about that, as you had come for a break.
Tina an
d T. and Daddy and I went to (sorry about red ink) see Nureyev in the Sleeping Beauty last night at the Coliseum, which I enjoyed immensely, although Daddy opened his eyes suddenly and said he really didn’t like male dancing except Fred Astaire! But even he relented a bit in the last act. Nureyev had a spotlight on him the whole time, even when he was sitting down and surreptitiously having his hair-ribbon put back by an assistant! But why not, I expect he has to be vain. The settings were rather gorgeous, like the Russian children’s book fairy-tale illustrations – very rich colour, no-one wore white, only gold and cream and brown.
What do you think, we (at Q.Gate) have just been told that we can’t eat lunch in the staffroom, because someone left a banana skin last term! They regulate the teachers, but not the pupils it seems. I shall have to lock myself into the loo with my sausage roll.
It’s so awful, I’ve lost my glasses! Not the case, just the glasses, they must have slipped out of my hand in the Tube, but I can’t think how it happened. I had to go to Mr Miranda, who said Ah! How the years slip away! And our eyes I fear do not improve! And I don’t know how long he’ll take to make new ones: and I’ve borrowed Daddy’s, as I can just about see through the reading bit, (they’re bifocals) so poor Daddy is quite cross-eyed – but he always says that he doesn’t need them for reading, and I don’t know how to get on without them, and it’s dreadful with these large classes.
I have to meet Mme. de Baissac after work at Her Club, I’m so tired I’d really rather not, and it’s always so awkward avoiding tea, if she orders it, it costs £1 a head! But I must see her as I really think her wits are beginning to turn, over the question of the house. Doubtless my wits are turning too.
Michael Joseph say they don’t want the biography of 4 brothers (grandpa and my 3 uncles) together, but only one at a time – this is quite useless and I shall have to find a new publisher. I think I’d better get an agent?
T. and T. going to Oxford for christening on Sunday and T. buying a new dress on Saturday for the occasion.
much love dear Ma X
So I Have Thought of You Page 21
