I have delivered my tattered, ink-tea-and-tear-stained MS of book about my uncles to Macmillans, and now await a telephone call to say it’s all got to be altered, and that there is not enough sex in it, although I’ve told them that there is none to put. However in any case that won’t be out till next autumn. The index comes next, but I rather like doing that.
Dear Willie, you will send me your Christmas letter, won’t you – I don’t mind waiting 2 or 3 months for it.
Best of New Year Wishes to everyone – I hope Mike is very well – I thought of his marvellous kitchen garden this summer as I proudly cultivated my tomatoes in the back-yard – much love Mops.
25 Almeric Road
London, sw11
27 July [c.1977]
Dearest Willie,
Am keeping to plan of writing to Terry Bank as all continue to complain about the post and I want to be sure you get this which is just to thank you so very much, what a wonderful holiday, the weather, I suppose, was good luck but everything else was care, kindness and hospitality – I went over the whole week in my head before I dropped off to sleep and apart from the whole glorious impression I thought of so many little things, such as the moment when all the puffins dived, and our bathe, and the heroic row over the bar, and the wonderful view every morning from the top of the fort, and the gannets, and my biscuit.
I feel enormously much better, and what’s more Maria and John are still here and say they’ll come round this evening so I shall be able to drone on, and show them my sun-tan.
Garden now a jungle of marigolds and shasta daisies, shall have to get down to it and cut everything down. Tomatoes gleaming fitfully through the greenery. Froggies, exhausted by sight seeing, present me with seven bottles of milk, & say they never take it in coffee or tea, as it is malsain. Certainly it is poor stuff, compared to the Alderney milk, but I feel vaguely offended as Tina had told the Express to leave it for them. The Froggies go to Marks & Spencer every day. They brought very little luggage so as to carry back vast quantities of M & S.
Maria says they are Bananas.
I’m sending Anne a little birthday present separately as I was vexed at not knowing the important date. It was lovely to see her, she was so friendly and welcoming and with such an original viewpoint on life, or in process of arriving at one. We must hope that she’ll never cut the honey-coloured hair.
Thankyou and Mike again, truly it was the perfect seaside summer holiday. I’m emptying the sand out of my suitcase with the greatest reluctance –
love to everyone –
Mops.
25 Almeric Road
London, sw11
5 January [1979]
Dearest Willie,
Thankyou so much for your Xmas letters, you know how I look forward to them – though that’s ungrateful, because I’ve had several this year. – Ria who’s proudly bought a car out of her salary as a physiologist with Professor Pat, took me to the midnight service at Southwark Cathedral, and everyone started trooping out at the end without listening to the (lovely) organ voluntary and I thought of you so much then, you remember how your teacher told you to fire away at the end as you’d be able to please yourself then. Valpy and Angelines and the 2 little boys (cowboy hats, I’ve shot you, you’re dead) came for Christmas – for some reason I’d forgotten how much they all ate, and had to get up in the small hours to make bread. But it passed off well and it was wonderful to see them. It’s Valpy’s sabbatical next year and he’s hesitating between Mexico, Texas, and Aix-en-Provence (which however is part of Marseilles 2 which isn’t a proper university) and Sussex, I don’t know which it will be.
Of course. Please don’t give another thought to The Blotter – there was something Amiss this Xmas I think with the National Trust supplies – they have a large shop at the old Bluecoat School just behind where I work and I went in there several times and they had practically nothing but soap – disappointments of the ladies (both staff and customers, who are very hard to tell apart incidentally), it was a really kind thought, and I appreciate it. Some publisher’s photographer came in the summer and said – please sit at your work place in a Natural Attitude – now that’s when The Blotter would have come in handy.
I am so sorry about gallant Sue, if only the children could really find the right person and be happy, one begins to think one wouldn’t mind anything else, but he wasn’t right, was he? did you ever think so? Jay is so strong-minded, like his father in that way, but I wonder if he needs quite such a strong-minded female, he likes to lecture a bit, and tell people what to do, in the kindest possible way – and some girls love to be told.
I loved the story of the tenant and the church decorations – but am worried about the lampshades constructed out of lollipop sticks. I consider the scheme madness. I know some people who construct dolls’ rocking-chairs entirely out of split clothes-pegs, and they are going mad. It’s the snow, you’ll emerge at the end of winter like the woodcutters of the Tyrol having carved and fashioned many things but gibbering and staring wildly at each other. Think of Sicily! That’s really something to look forward to, it will be glorious.
Long melodrama at Duckworths which I feel I’m much too old for, so now I have to find yet another publisher! However I quite enjoy it, it’s like weaving, I suppose, it keeps you busy. I am trying to write a novel about the houseboats on Battersea Reach, where we used to live. Thankyou so much for being so kind and supporting my efforts. It was good of Mike to write, I hope he’s not doing too much and trying to lift many hundredweights of snow singlehanded –
much love alway, & best wishes for 1979
Mops.
Westminster Tutors
27 May [early 1980s]
Dearest Willie,
I feel broken-hearted not to say good-bye to you properly after so much kindness and such a lovely weekend, but I was disconcerted by seeing so many brightly-coloured people on the train at Oxenholme. I did enjoy it so much, and there was no question of having specially nice feeds on the first and last occasion: all were specially nice. I feel ashamed to have dragged you round the woolshops and the illorganised festival, please don’t think I take all these things for granted, they make life just about bearable. – That looks like a complaint but wasn’t meant to be.
I was so glad to see both your daughters – Anne always gives me such a friendly welcome, and doesn’t hold it against me that I let my attention wander during the Demon Patience. (Greg points out that I can’t even really keep my mind on Beggar My Neighbour which I suppose is the simplest of all card games) and so does Sue, in her quiet way, which makes me feel there’s more in her than may ever come to the surface.
You’ll forgive me if I lamented over the barn, I see I’m completely ignorant about such things anyway, it was only a momentary pang for such a wonderfully large empty space. I felt the same about Les Halles in Paris, and Covent Garden, and it’s a sign that I’m going to pieces.
I managed to get a seat on the train and a 77 which goes all the way to Battersea Rise from Euston, so no trouble there. The Froggies had all arrived and were sitting in Tina’s kitchen making themselves nauseous tisane, with all the central heating on. I switched it off with an intimidating smile, no good letting foreigners carry on just as they like. Fortunately they’re out all day, wearing themselves out at the Tour de Londres &c.
One of them turned out to be male, he is crushed by the others and has to sleep in the passage.
I can’t remember whether you said you liked Barbara Pym, but am sending Quartet in Autumn in case you haven’t got it, otherwise it can go to Mothers’ Union Xmas sale. I do like her very much, the incidents look so trivial that there’s nothing in them and then you suddenly realise how much she’s said. When she died last year she left one more novel, A Few Green Leaves, which I’m hoping to review.
My desk (i.e. kitchen table) is in such a mess I haven’t the heart to clear it up. Every now and then a vital document rises to the top, but I must send this off before it disapp
ears, to tell you how much better I feel for my visit, a few wheezes here and there are of no importance –
So much love to you and Mike –
Mops.
27a Bishop’s Road
Highgate
13 November [c.1990]
Dearest Willie and Mike,
Please note the stamp, which clearly represents father and son stealing a sapling from the nearest plantation.
Thankyou so much for such a wonderful holiday. Don’t think I’ve forgotten Mike’s old Chinese saying – ‘fish and guests should never be kept in the house for more than 3 days’ – I felt this had been quite overlooked, and as always it was so good of you to take me to these beautiful places and look at them almost as if you’d never been there before. We used to laugh about the Autumn Tints, and indeed there was a moment when you and Helen began a very serious discussion between maize and pale yellow – but all I can say is the autumn trees were beautiful. And it was a treat to see Helen, and you two are so wonderful together. It amazes me that she seems to know everyone for many miles around, and of course sympathises with all their catastrophes – I know she lived in Old Terry Bank for several months at one point, but all the same – what a gift it is to care (not to make yourself care, that’s quite different) for so many people.
I don’t know how often Helen comes, but you must think sometimes about the distance – I know we do, with Tina in Devonshire. Ria says Somerset was one thing, but Devonshire is just over the top. Having said that, I feel – as so often – ungrateful. After all, Tina might have been living in Australia, or Canada perhaps and the children would have been interested in nothing but ice-hockey.
My train to Euston was late, which was very satisfactory, as I did miss the rush-hour, and the vintage marmalade came through intact. The children loved the vulgar postcard of teddy-bears back-packing through Lakeland, which Sophie, I’m afraid, takes for the real thing. The only little disaster has been that, while I was away, the American bookseller came to lunch on the wrong Thursday, with a bunch of flowers which he seems to have given to the nanny, and I haven’t got his telephone number and I don’t know whether he’ll come with another bunch of flowers this Thursday as well. One shouldn’t allow oneself to be upset by such things.
I’m so pleased with my photograph of the Troutbeck window* and one of the infant Tina wh. reminds me of High Dalby and the moors and Mrs. Payne (wasn’t it?) as well as Tina herself in the smocked Dayella dress. Do you remember Dayella?
I had a feeling of your being distressed over the Christmas arrangements. But mightn’t it be that the break just for one year from the immensely labour-intensive meals &c might be a good thing in the end, mightn’t you worry less and sleep-walk less, in fact not at all? And then next year there would be Old Terry Bank to contain them all, which would make all the difference. You must promise, however, not to pine in Edinburgh.
It’s easy to give good advice to others. – I must remember the prayer, and indeed I took it to heart.
Meanwhile I don’t think I said enough in appreciation of the fine cookery at Terry Bank and all your kindness, so I say it now,
Much love and many thanks –
Mops
I enclose a flower of the field from Jerusalem, not a recognisable species I’m afraid.
27a Bishop’s Road
Highgate
Friday [1991]
Dearest Willie,
It was so good of you and Mike and Helen to sit it out with me in the admittedly newly done-up and award-winning Oxenholme waitingroom which, all the same, has something of the feeling of a ‘custody suite’ in an enlightened new police station, people sitting rather apprehensively under the bright lights, and it was marvellous to have the tea, and be able to talk to you until the last moment. The poor train, when it arrived, was full of very discontented passengers – two carriages had had to be taken off at Carlisle because ‘the windows had been broken by vandals’ and as a result there had been a ‘rearrangement of accommodation’ (i.e. people sitting on the floor), and then they’d had to stop because BR was re-laying the track. But we got into Euston only 2 hours late and I had a seat, although I felt rather mean, but I kept telling myself I was very old. (We actually made an ‘unscheduled stop’ at Nuneaton, which was very exciting, although no-one got in or out because of course they hadn’t known it was going to happen.)
I was very lucky to come when Helen, Anna and Joseph were all there – somehow it was ‘like Christmas’, as Sophie says. Really I had a lovely time, so many indulgent little sit downs and helpful hospitable strong drinks, as well as expeditions and what I enjoy so much, stories of old times and distant relatives, although new ones appeared this time (Cousin John, for instance) that I hadn’t a grip on. Helen’s memory is amazing, she seems to know who everyone is within a wide area of Kirkby Lonsdale, as well, of course, as Burwash. (I remember when they thought Paschal was seriously deaf I thought of Helen, I thought, my word, she managed all right!)
The birthday party was superb, Willie, I honestly think it was the best salmon recipe I’ve ever had, (so I suppose, if it came from next door, I shall have to overlook the incident of the clothes-line, or rather let it fade from memory). Who’d have believed, during that terribly anxious operation time, that Mike’s next birthday party would be like that? I don’t mean that you don’t have any anxiety – I know very well you have – but it was a pretty good birthday party.
I slept so soundly at Terry Bank that I feel I don’t need any sleep for a bit – like Joseph and his dinner – at least I tell myself I don’t. At T.B. I always turn off the light and imagine what the hill opposite will look like when I wake up in the morning – and I’m almost always wrong.
I’ve hung up my new pink jersey from Jumpers in the wardrobe (socalled) and look forward to its first outing – Carol Walsh from Sydney has rung up (again) saying she hopes I’m only going to bring light clothing, so I suppose it won’t do for Oz.* Perhaps when I get back.– It’s terrible, Willie, I’m always giving myself little rewards and prohibitions, as if I were 3 years old, and I suppose, in fact, it’s a sign of second childhood. Now I’m telling myself that the pink jersey (from Jumpers) will be something to think about and keep me going while I’m giving dreary talks at Mietta’s restaurant and on Hobart waterfront. It’s a disgrace.
I had a wonderful time and this is to send you best love and many thanks –
Mops. –
P.S. It was very good of Anne to give us lunch on her marvellous round table. –
27a Bishop’s Road
Highgate
29 December 1994
Dearest Willie,
I’m so sorry that you should have rung up and I should have seemed to be out, but I think I must really have been next door, that is to say in Ria’s house – I can scarcely call it helping, but trying to help. I might mention here that Mary (my stepmother) who we fetched out for the day from her Residential Nursing Home was sick halfway through lunch – we had to find some of my clothes that fitted her and carry on regardless with lighting the pudding, Poor Mary, she’s getting rather vague. Ria made the pudding herself, but frankly bought the (3) stuffings and the brandy butter from Waitrose and very good they were, so I can’t pretend in any case there was a great deal to do. But I certainly wasn’t out anywhere (though we did go to see the Nutcracker, very well done by the old Sadlers Wells company down from Birmingham) – because unfortunately I just can’t get rid of this tiresome irregular heartbeat and breathlessness and general inability to walk anywhere much, it’s been going on since September as I’m sure I’ve told you only too often, was very tiresome at the Cheltenham Festival and if anything is worse now. The doctor says it’s asthma but in my opinion it’s not and I do feel that I know a little bit about asthma. Well, there it is, but I feel properly stuck and have to cancel all the immediate things I promised to do, as I was sure I’d be better by this time.
But your (admirably word-processed) letter cheered me up when I read that M
ike felt better than he had done for the last 3 years – more power to him, I say – and you know he’s always said what a treat it would be to have a quiet Christmas – and I don’t think he ever says what he doesn’t mean – and you actually succeeded in having one! Only I understand absolutely what you mean about the house standing ready and looking beautiful for Christmas and yet not expecting any one – (although they’ll all be there by the time you get this) – it seems, as you say, weird, as though the house had forgotten what it was really for. And Anne’s cottage must be rather the same – only I can’t help feeling she will come back one day.
Meanwhile I don’t know who the Bayleys are. I’m sure that wasn’t the name of the people with the boat-house and the gardens? Bayley?
Valpy seems settled down at Oxford – except that he has to keep going to Mexico, Madrid and the Hague to make ends meet, and nothing, not even the Forest Bark, will keep the ground-elder down – and he is pruning the apple trees, I think, rather too wildly and Laurence (his 2nd son, who now tells us we must call him Larry) is working at a nightclub at the other end of Oxford and not persevering with any form of secondary education, except becoming a waiter – Greg has managed to pass his exams so far at the Oxford Polytechnic (now called Brookes College) after failing to do so at Imperial College and Durham – he is now 22, pig-tailed and quite delightful, – his girl-friend is a dental technician in Cordoba, at least she has a respectable job. Little (9 years old) Camilo has gone to St. Frideswide’s Junior School and may well turn out to be the least trouble of the 3.
Tina and family have just left, after a visit largely occupied with a Star Trek game, played with a video of Klingon, whose brain, composed of electric circuits, is outside his skull. He kept pointing and laughing fiendishly and I thought Jemima was rather frightened. Poor Tina and Terry still haven’t managed to sell their cottage, although plenty of people have been to see it, and it’s in a nice village on the edge of the moor, and has roses and honeysuckle round the door. But I do have trust that the right purchaser will come along.
So I Have Thought of You Page 23
