2 A novel by farmer and author Adrian Bell (1901–80), published in 1930. It was followed by Silver Ley (1931) and The Cherry Tree (1932), the three books forming a Corduroy trilogy.
3 Donald Davie was in favour of the Dolmen Press publishing twelve of Larkin’s poems, but his co-editors, Thomas Kinsella and Liam Miller, outvoted him.
4 Eva had mentioned (22 January 1951) that Dr Folwell’s son Denis, who played Jack Archer in The Archers radio serial, was very ill.
5 Eva replied on 12 October: ‘Oh, I did love your sketch of the old Creature in those marble halls. I expect, like the sketch, I should look a bit uneasy and afraid to put my paws down.’
17 October 1954
30 Elmwood Avenue, Belfast
My dear old creature,
I am not in the best of shape this morning, as I went out last night to a “routine” party, & had for the previous three nights been occupied in some way or other in a social fashion. The weather is wet & warm, & I haven’t even the consolation of thinking I can spend the day in relaxation, since this evening I must draft my application for this Hull job. No doubt I shall be letting myself in for much trouble and embarrassment for nothing. Really I can’t envisage myself as a university librarian! I said this to Graneek & his reply, in effect, was that good university librarians were very rare, but that he had no doubt that I should make a university librarian of some sort, more so than some people who were university librarians …1 So we shall see. I rang up Dr Marshall2 on Saturday to ask if he would support my application, & he readily agreed. He asked after you, & I said you were “not too bad”.
I had your card (postmarked Ambergate) and was relieved to know you were not stranded in the wilds of Derbyshire. Are you surrounded, I wonder, by rather queer people? I despatched Impassioned clay3 to you on Friday, after glancing into it and thinking how very good and thrilling it seemed: I hope you enjoy it.
Do you remember Alec Dalgarno?4 The two of us seem to be bracketed together in the public mind, as I hear there is a proposal to put us both on the Common Room Committee. We have also been “taken up” by a pair of well off Australians called Egerton (they drove me to Dublin & back), and they give us food and drink and play bridge with us.5 (This is what I was up to on Thursday.) I put them down as people who find their ordinary life rather boring, but I’m not sure I want to be bracketed with Alec, agreeable fellow though he is.6
How I liked your self-portrait at the end of your letter!7 I’m afraid there are no marble halls this week either. It’s not a very hopeful prospect. However, I shall persevere for a time, in the hope of landing a shower of gold.
Monica is not very happy at present, though I haven’t heard from her for a few days: she has not had any leads in the matter of flats, and finds living with the Evanses a little oppressive, not because she doesn’t like them, but because living with anyone that way can hardly help being oppressive.
It’s now a quarter to three: I must dash off a letter to Miss Bennett in time to catch the post and inform her that I am taking her name in vain as a reference.8 Hope she doesn’t turn nasty. Oh dear, it seems queer to be thinking about moving. One goes on and on in life, from place to place and salary to salary, getting no nearer to any sense of having “arrived” or of being contented, though of course I am comfortable enough here …
My very dearest love Philip
1 Eva commented on 19 October: ‘You have decided to apply, then, for Hull. I’m sorry you cannot feel more enthusiastic about it, Creature. I really cannot think what else you could do, if you went out of the Librarian business. Of course, if you won a shower of gold you wouldn’t need to have a job at all!’
2 Arthur Hedley Marshall had succeeded Sydney Larkin as Treasurer of Coventry.
3 Impassioned Clay: An Essay, by Llewelyn Powys (1884–1939), published in 1931.
4 Colleague in the maths department at Queens University.
5 Larkin remained friends with Judy Egerton (1928–2012) for the rest of his life. She moved to London with her husband Ansell, who wrote a business column in the Times. Judy was an art historian and in 1974 was appointed Assistant Keeper of the British Collection at the Tate Gallery.
6 A photograph of Alec Dalgarno, taken by Larkin, miscaptioned ‘Robert Conquest’, is included in Bradford The Importance of Elsewhere: Philip Larkin’s Photographs, 160. See James Booth, ‘Belfast Friends: Alec Dalgarno’, About Larkin 43 (April 2017), 18.
7 Eva had ended her letter of 12 October with a self-portrait, carefully sketched first in pencil. She added diffidently: ‘What a funny creature.’
8 Rhoda Bennett, Librarian at Leicester University College.
24 October 1954
30 Elmwood Ave, Belfast
My very dear thrifty old creature,
[…] I have sent off my Hull application & can only sit back and wait now. It is not very probable that I shall be successful, but I feel I might get an interview – free trip to England. I am rather uneasy because during the summer I published three poems in a Hull magazine of a nature calculated to repel all but the jolliest and most advanced of Library-Committee members – one begins
“Why do I let the toad work
Squat on my life?”
– not the best kind of testimonial! It may be that no one will have read them, of course, but they leave the reader in no doubt about what I think of salaried employment (“Six days of the week it soils, With its sickening poison”). It will take an awful lot of explaining away.1 […]
It is nearly three now, & I must get this to post, & perhaps I might go a ride round. The weather is still fine & clear. My best love to you, dear old creature. What a rich creature!
Philip
1 In her reply of 26 October Eva was reassuring: ‘Possibly no one on the committee will have read them. If they have, I expect they will put you on the short list out of curiosity to see the author.’
23 November 1954
Postcard
Hull, Tuesday 10 a.m.
Arrived safely after very dull journey – train broke down at one point! We didn’t change at Doncaster. Hull has its Christmas decorations up, for what that’s worth. I’ve paid my hotel bill & bought my ticket to L’pool & put my bag in the station – wd that I were safely rolling away! All that remains is this 4½ hrs in between. It’s a bit chilly here & smells of fish. I am going to put down the alternatives & then cross off which doesn’t apply, so that I can post this quickly later in the day.
Appointed Not appointed
Don’t know 1
Very much love!
Philip
1 ‘Appointed’ ringed in pencil; crossings out in pencil
26 November 1954
Postcard
[30 Elmwood Avenue, Belfast]
Friday
Horrid wet here: and has been all the week. Many thanks for your letter & congratulations! I feel commiserations are more what I want! Glad Mrs Lowe is on the mend. & hope you are keeping warm indoors.
I wonder if you wd tell Kitty that I’m sorry to have been awkward about Xmas – I felt v. bad on Monday morning: but I did appreciate seeing her new suit. Hope she doesn’t think handkerchiefs dull – I certainly need them. Further news on Sunday. Have been correcting some proofs for Bruce.
Very best love P.
1955
1 January 1955
My dear old creature,
What a surprise to find my scarf for breakfast this morning!1 In truth I knew I had left it, but I was very glad of it today because the weather is so frightfully cold, really arctic, so your most kind thought was appreciated after all.
This hotel is quite comfortable but the food is no great shakes. This morning we traipsed about & looked into the cathedral (where Jane Austen is buried): this afternoon we went to a nearby village & walked in the country – but it was bitterly cold & the way was strewn with dead rabbits, so that we came back feeling unhappy.2 This evening we have stayed in. Tomorrow
we are thinking of taking a look at the New Forest – Lyndhurst & Brockenhurst. I hope it isn’t similarly disfigured. […]
I do not remember my general demeanour at home with much pleasure! but I remember all the things you did to make me comfortable & happy.3 Have you got the cheese disposed of yet? And how about the chicken carcase?
I hope Walter will be more amenable about the door this weekend, and that you have not had any more surprise visits from Effie.4
Best new year wishes to you, dear old creature, and very much love:
Philip
1 Eva wrote on 30 December 1954: ‘Have posted your scarf and nail file which you left behind.’
2 Larkin’s poem ‘Myxomatosis’ had been published in the Spectator, 26 November 1954.
3 On 3 January Eva replied: ‘I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the visit to Bruce, for, as you know I should have been happy to have you here longer. / I appreciate all the little things you did whilst here – mending my coal gloves, putting a new plug on the radiator, and tidying and dusting the sideboard cupboard. Also cracking the great lumps of coal! / I am sorry to hear about the poor rabbits. Hope you don’t see any more.’
4 Effie McNichol.
6 January 1955
Postcard
[30 Elmwood Avenue, Belfast]
Arrived safely after good crossing, to find no signs of snow here – good. I gave my last card to a porteress on Crewe station, so I hope she posted it. Have had breakfast & changed clothes, so feel fit for another term’s work – brr. No interesting letters waiting for me, except a man pressing me to let him publish a book of my poems. Only he lives in Hull! It’s entirely a coincidence. If there is a rail strike, yr birthday present may be late, Very much love. P.
9 January 1955
Postcard
30 Elmwood Avenue, Belfast
My dear old creature,
First of all, many happy returns of the day! and may I ring you up at 10 p.m. on Monday to say so personally? […]
How are you finding Lucky Jim? Does it make you laugh? Perhaps not so much as the Archers. I think Mrs. P. is terribly good;1 Dr Folwell said she knew her quite well. Isn’t Grace a nasty girl? If I were Philip (sounds odd) you “wouldn’t see my arse for dust” getting away from her, if you’ll pardon the expression.2
Well, I must see about my lunch now: two chops, & a small cabbage. It will probably be put on the table around 3.15 p.m.! Are you having a birthday tea? Anyway, I shall think about you, and ring you up in the evening.
All my very best love, dear old creature:
Philip
1 Mrs Perkins, unsuccessfully wooed by the Ambridge character Walter Gabriel.
2 Denis Folwell, Dr Folwell’s son, played Jack Archer in the radio serial. In the story the glamorous, wealthy Grace Fairbrother married Philip Archer in 1955, only to die in a stable fire in September.
3 The pink die-stamped 2½d franking on the pre-paid envelope has elaborately florid lettering.
3 February 1955
30 Elmwood Avenue, Belfast
My dear old creature,
Quite better now, thanks! and I hope you are, too. I felt “very poorly” when I went back to work, but have picked up marvellously, & am back to normal. The news of the week is that “Arthur” – this is a friend of mine who lectures in Spanish, name of Terry – has got engaged to Molly!1 This has been in the air for some time, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise, except that such things are always something of a shock. This is the third engagement in about a month! Graneek is rolling his eyes philosophically.
I’m arranging to send my things home by removers, if they are not too costly, & come home myself on Saturday 12 March, flying as far as Manchester & catching the 1.50 train, with as little luggage as possible. The thing I shall try to work is to get my belongings home before me so that I can unpack during my week. You won’t want all my stuff standing not unpacked till I don’t know when, will you? The bicycle will be the biggest problem.
I don’t really know why I applied for Hull – I think Graneek made me! Anyway, he is very pleased with his new acquisition, who will no doubt put me in the shade.2
In the paper yesterday I noticed that your Mr Follick is to introduce his bill advocating the decimal coinage.3
It was very nice of you to send me an extra letter for Monday – I was feeling a bit low & it cheered me up. I heard from my Hull publisher(!) saying that the poems would make a nice volume – I shall be interested to meet him. Bet he’s a horrible little squirt! Wonder if he has money? It’s a curious hobby. More on Sunday, dear old mob-capped one.
Love from Philip
1 Molly Sellar was an assistant in the library. See Larkin’s photograph, Plate 9B.
2 On 27 January he told Eva that a Hungarian had been appointed as his successor: ‘He seems quite a decent bloke – better at the books than me.’ However, sixteen months later, on 17 June 1956, he heard from a former Belfast colleague passing through Hull that his successor was ‘ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD AT ALL, which is comforting.’
3 Montefiore Follick, Labour MP for Loughborough, moved a bill for the introduction of a decimal currency on 2 February 1955.
6 February 1955
30 Elmwood Ave, Belfast
My dear old creature,
I can’t help feeling rather regretful and cast down on Sundays just at present, because I think how few of them are left to me in this room. After today I shall write to you only four more times in the peace of my top floor, able to breakfast & lunch when I please and lapped in perfect silence! In five weeks I shall be loafing in your dining-room: in six I shall be where? – well, travelling, I suppose: in seven I shall be I know not where. Oh dear! I don’t like the prospect. I have a premonition of dreary dullness, of nasty people, nasty living conditions.1 […]
I really shouldn’t worry about your investments: as long as they are producing something that is enough for unworldly creatures like ourselves.
I’m glad you occasionally do a bit at my pullover! Did I tell you Molly finished a very smart grey & white one, copied from Vanity Fair, with a giraffe neck, & now has gone and singed it by sitting in front of the fire? This is a coincidence as the old Molly, at Leicester, singed herself in the same way. I hope to take a photograph or two of her in it before I go: it really looks very nice.2
The Egertons are proposing a visit to Dublin to attend a première (? odd word) of a new play by Sean O’Casey – Alec & I react identically, neither of us wanting to go much, but not seeing how we can decently refuse. It means getting home about 2 in the morning & having to go to work the next day.
Now, I do hope you are fully restored to health and able to appreciate this keen season of snow-drops and lambs. I have strewn a few of the former in your Wedgewood egg cup, but they are rather droopy & I suspect I was “had”! If I ever get round to my meal today it will be tinned steak & kidney pudding & real mushrooms, raspberries & real cream. What are you having? I expect you have withdrawn something from your cellar!
Well, I hope you enjoy it. My most affectionate greetings & much love, Philip
1 With some prescience Eva replied on 8 February: ‘I don’t suppose you will like the living conditions, at first in Hull. Perhaps in time you could get a flat and live in much the same way as you have been doing in Belfast.’
2 See Plate 9B for a photograph by Larkin of the library assistant Molly Sellar, who later married his colleague Arthur Terry. Further photographs of Molly are reproduced in Richard Bradford’s The Importance of Elsewhere, 103, where she is described as a ‘still-unidentified woman’. She is named in the paperback (2017).
13 February 1955
30 Elmwood Ave, Belfast
My very dear old creature,
[
…] “My plans” came on Friday: that is, the plans of the proposed University library at Hull. It’s intended to house a million books & seat 500 readers, and as the expense will be considerable they intend to build it in 2 stages. I expect in the end they will never get beyond the first stage! It’s quite a good design, but lots of the details are not to my liking – the main staircase is a spiral one, for instance! and, I should imagine, entirely unsuitable for rush hour traffic. In the final stage I have a lavatory all to myself! It looks so funny. I wonder if I shall ever use it. There is also a room next door for my secretary. […]
People now say “I thought you’d gone” in quite an aggrieved way, till I feel quite ashamed of lingering on for four more weeks – less, now …
With all love from
17 April 1955
Holtby House, Cottingham
My dear old creature,
This will be the first time I’ve written to you from Hull on a Sunday, won’t it? Imagine a grey cheerless day, & me sitting in my first-floor room looking out of my open sash-window. There are a pair of tits I think are mates on the gutter nearby: on Friday they were flying about with grass and straw, as if nesting, but today they seem content to sit and look at the garden. Perhaps they know it is Sunday. […]
Oh dear, the future now seems very bleak and difficult – I really don’t know what I’m doing in this job at all! Still. I shall try to bear in mind the words of Ll. Powys: “Nothing matters but physical pain and death: all else is experience, enviable enough to those lying under the churchyard sod.”1 With all best love, Philip
Philip Larkin Page 31
