32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I had your letter this morning, & was much relieved to hear that K. & W. had invited you along to their house for more than Christmas tea. That is very good of them, and I hope you will have a good time. I don’t like to think of you sitting alone with your “Christmas globe”!
[…]
I got £125 for the Monitor film.1 Betty had a letter yesterday saying she would get something too!
Well, dear old creature, I shall be thinking of you – I’ll send word of my safety, somehow. The weather seems all right at present.
Much love Philip
1 In her letter of 20 December Eva recounts her friends’ positive reactions to the Monitor programme, adding: ‘By the way, would you be paid for doing it, I wonder.’
29 December 1964
Hull
My dear old creature,
Last letter this year! and only a short one, I’m afraid, but I was so pleased to get your letter when I returned (it had arrived – I just hadn’t looked properly).
I think it sounds nice of K & W to have made such an effort on Boxing Day. Alas, people don’t go to the cinema nowadays! Why didn’t Effie drink? When I mentioned her to Monica she said ‘The one they got drunk with?’! (You & Auntie Nelly!) I’m sure K & W will have earned their holiday in Switzerland.1
I expect your present is really a housecoat, if it says so, though I asked for a dressing-gown – I do hope you can wear it anyway. It is supposed to be very light and warm. […]
Much love Philip
1 The final arrangement saw Philip spending Christmas with Monica, and Eva staying with him after the New Year in Hull. Eva declined Kitty’s invitation to Christmas lunch and cooked a chicken for herself, going on to her daughter’s for afternoon tea. On Boxing Day they drank champagne, and then Walter drove Kitty, Eva and their friend Effie McNicol, through the snow to the Victory Cinema to watch an Agatha Christie film (‘Margaret Rutherford in it’).
1965
24 January 1965
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
Life here resumes its normal pattern – rising at 10, now 2.25 and still no lunch. That is, if you can call it a pattern! I felt I had to concentrate on the car first, then the papers, and then you. Lunch will come next.
I thought I heard on the wireless a “flash” that Churchill had died – anyway, I put a black tie on: no doubt I shall hear at 6 p.m. I expect he has. I had respect for him, in a way, but not liking – most people wd put it the other way round, I suppose. He seemed to me to be second rate in quality, but full of energy & respect for the right things. In a war you want second-rate energy, and he was clearly the best man.
The other news of the week was my old pal Du Cann getting made chairman of the Conservative Party! Truly surprising. And of course the Conservative victory at Leyton – jolly fine.
Well, I don’t suppose you’ll be very interested in Old Larkin’s political reflections – on the personal front, I felt a bit dithery when I got back, but have recovered now. […]
Virginia wonders where that nice old lady has gone who stayed in and had tea about 4 o’clock and kept the place warm!1 She doesn’t seem to move about as she used, but is now sitting on a low table watching me. I wonder how Kitty’s “mountain throat” is?2 I reckon it’s “kitchen throat”, coming of working in an unheated kitchen in January.
Much love
Philip
1 On 21 January Eva wrote: ‘Well, dear Creature, I must thank you very much for all your kindness during the past three weeks and also for the lovely warm dressing gown, the electric iron and the chocolates. I really did enjoy my stay at Pearson Park. Hope you have caught up with yourself.’
2 Kitty had picked up a sore throat in Switzerland.
13 February 1965
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] Really, I’m much too late – I spent too long in the bath, & then I made a macaroni cheese, & a salad of raw cress, chicory, carrot, leek & cabbage. Awgh. Anyway, what with washing up it was 9 o’clock before I got out. I mean out of the kitchen. This afternoon I drove out into the country after shopping, just for half an hour. It’s quite mild here, but all the trees are still quite bare – I’d hoped to see some lambs, or some birds building, but didn’t. Still, I did see some snowdrops, and some tiny new ivy leaves on the ground. I felt the spring wasn’t far off – a lovely time of year.
It’s been a curious week, blighted by the awful cold in the middle of it – now gone. I’m glad to say – I had a very tough Senate meeting in the middle of it, too: a long argument which I won 22–9, but the 9 were rather narked. I don’t know how they will take it.
Your letter was very nice and kind – please, old creature, don’t get worried about Daddy’s war diary. It upsets me to think of you puzzling over these old affairs. I think Pop used to let off steam in this way after a day’s work – he was always “agin the government” and it must have cheered him up no end to rail against them. I shouldn’t want to be living under the Nazis, would you? Better a bad English govt than any foreign one.1 So don’t worry. It gives me great joy to know you are liking the new iron! Nothing I can give you will equal all you have done for me. I only wish I had achieved a more satisfactory position in life. And of course I ought to find some solution for you. […]
Sunday […] I had a Valentine yesterday postmarked Wirral in Cheshire!2 […]
Much love, dear old creature. Philip
1 Eva had been re-reading Sydney’s twenty-volume war diary, ‘The Fool’s War’. ‘It puts me in a peculiar state of mind, rather miserable and very astonished at all the hypocrisy of our Government’ (9 February 1965).
2 From Nellie.
28 February 1965
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] I expect you got Time. In their next issue they included The W. W. in their list of best selling books – no, best reading (subtle difference) – and called me “the best living English poet”. That’ll make me popular with all the other living English poets. I wish I could do something to justify it. I’m sorry to hear you had such a traipse looking for it – I hope one of my assistants wd have “looked on the pink list” for you!1 Lazy swine. On Friday A Girl in Winter was republished in paperback, just eighteen years (February 1947) after its first appearance.
This all seems very self centred. I hope your sciatica has gone. I hope to come home either this weekend or next – I’ll see.
Be comfortable, dear old creature!
Much love
Philip
1 On 22 February Eva related that, after failing to buy Time in Smith’s, she had gone to the library where an assistant had told her to ‘look on the pink list, which would say which magazines they had’. But ‘It wasn’t on the list.’
1 March 1965
[32 Pearson Park]
Dearest old creature,
Snow here today! Not very deep though.
Yesterday I drove to Spurn Head, wch is a very odd promontory at the mouth of the Humber. It was quite nice, not lonely enough for my liking. […]
Much love P
13 March 1965
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] Today started with a terrible fright – a letter from a Chest Consultant saying he had sent a report on my mass x-ray to Dr Raines, who wd “tell me about it”! You can imagine the fright this threw me into, as in the case of this x-ray “no news is good news”, & probably the opposite is true also. I had a very unpleasant hour, & then saw Raines who quickly put me out of my misery by saying it was just my old oesophagus again, not lungs at all.1 I’d been x-rayed after lunch & it was distended as usual I suppose. Needless to say I had been dead & buried several times by then, & my grave well grassed. Betty was very sympathetic, but she must have thought I was making a fearful fuss. How relieved I fel
t afterwards, how sweet the world seemed, how marvellous the prospect of seeing another spring! […]
With much love from undead creature
1 Larkin died of cancer of the oesophagus twenty years later, in 1985.
21 March 1965
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] London was all right but tiring: when I got back I found my feet were quite sore with tramping the pavements. I saw the architects, & saw the Editress of Vogue, & had drinks with the Features Editress who is a fat Belfast girl who won one of their competitions two years ago & is far less glamorous than, for instance, Kitty … Then on Friday I ordered another suit from Simpson’s this time, playing safe on a kind I’d had before, & went and sat on a board for giving money to young poets to encourage them (what encouragement do middle aged ones get?): we handed out about £1000. May they get fat on it. When I got back I found a letter from a 21 year old girl in Istanbul begging me to go there & sending love! Such is my life.
I don’t feel too bad this morning, but I have a kind of phobia about London – I feel great West Indian & Pakistani germs hopping on me in the tubes, wch are then artificially incubated in the stifling hot Pullman1 on the way back, so that when I arrive I am ¾s ill already. It doesn’t seem to have happened this time, but still. It may.
[…] You must stop putting the apostrophe in the wrong place in words like “isn’t”. It indicates that the “o” of “not” has been left out, & should go in its place. You are writing “is’nt”.
How nice that your azalea is still flowering. There are a few green shoots in the garden here. I don’t expect I shall get out today, but if I did I expect I should see plenty of signs of life. […]
Much love Philip
1 See note to the letter of 10 March 1963.
5 April 1965
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] Kitty makes me angry with her “wouldn’t have made any difference” – can’t the fool see that if she, by her actions, decides when someone else must go away, it’s mere courtesy to let them know even before she decides it?1 She hasn’t the manners of a hog. In fact I feel very low all round. The Indians went today. Oh dear, this isn’t a very nice letter – & it’s after 11. Much love, dear old creature.
1 Most unusually Larkin has messily corrected and recorrected his text at this point:
On 30 March Eva had written: ‘About the holiday date, Kitty says that it would not have made any difference if she had told me earlier for they hadn’t much choice on account of Rosemary’s examn. They expect the results in August and don’t want to be away then. I think it must be due about the end of August, I’m not very clear about this.’
25 April 1965
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] The week has been a busy one – I went down to London & back on Friday, which is always a testing experience. My throat seems a bit odd, so I hope I haven’t picked up any London germs. I can almost imagine them when I go down, waiting at King’s Cross like porters. When in London I looked at a number of manuscripts that had come before the committee, and there was one belonging to Edmund Blunden wch was quite a small notebook with “For Eddy’s poetry” written in the front, presumably by his mother, and dated 1921, I think it was. Blunden, who is still alive, wrote that it would have seemed strange then to think of anyone paying money for it – especially the £750 we offered – “but think of the price a tin of salmon was in those days!” I can’t imagine what it was. Can you remember?1 It’s a strange business, pursuing manuscripts among the mothers & widows & girl friends & women generally of dead poets. Hope you’ll never be approached. […]
Glad to hear you are contemplating the telephone. I wonder if there is any special attachment for hard of hearing old creatures? There might be.
Much love as ever Philip
1 Eva replied (26 April 1965): ‘I cannot for the life of me remember what a tin of salmon cost in 1921.’
28 April 1965
[Hull]
My very dear old creature,
Just a rapid note to say that I had a letter from the Poet Laureate (Masefield) this morning to say that the Queen had approved the recommendation that I should get her Gold Medal for Poetry this year! This will mean going to Buckingham P., I expect!1
I fancy someone gets it every year, but I’m pleased.
Much love xx
Philip
1 Eva wrote on 3 May: ‘I shouldn’t be surprised if there were tickets to admit friends or relatives. You are adding to the honour of the Larkin family and keeping the name before the public as Daddy did before you. It is all very wonderful.’
3 June 19651
[32 Pearson Park, Hull]
This is the last of these cards. This morning my medal came in the post! I was surprised. I suppose this means I shan’t have to worry about going to the Palace, not for this anyway – am both relieved and disappointed. It’s 9 carat gold & rather quaint: has my name on the edge! It is in a red case, & clearly isn’t the wearing type of medal.
My record is of me reading the whole of The W. W. – the whole book. It costs 35/9d. Kitty has a leaflet about it. I can send you more if you like ogh ogh ogh.2
I was very glad to have your letter this evening. I can imagine you living on Guinness & being quite sorry when your teeth come back!3
It’s very steady weather here, fine but not warm. Have felt rather sluggish all day – think I want exercise or something. Shall be thinking of you at the weekend, & will ring up sometime – don’t know when yet.
Much love xxx Philip
1 Double-sided plain card in envelope.
2 Philip Larkin Reads and Comments on ‘The Whitsun Weddings’ (Hessle: Listen Records, Marvell Press, 1965).
3 On 1 June Eva wrote that she was without teeth while her dentist prepared a new set of dentures, and was reduced to bread and milk and mashed banana. ‘Don’t know what to do about supper – perhaps a bottle of stout would provide the most nourishment.’
27 June 1965
My very dear old creature,
No, I didn’t thank the Queen for the medal. I remembered Dr Johnson’s remark “It was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign”, and simply acknowledged its receipt: I expect she is now thinking “That’s the last time I do anything for that man.”
It’s a cloudy, warm but not unpleasant day. […]
Reverting to the medal, well, it is of its period (about 1930) & the designer Dulac was very typical of the day. He used to illustrate Yeats’s books. But I agree it’s not much to our taste today.1 […]
Driving back from York last night I narrowly avoided a hedgehog that was travelling across the road (at least I hope I avoided it), & later on I saw a young hare behaving rather indecisively at the roadside. It’s lovely seeing the wild creatures, but I wish they’d keep off the roads. They are so silly.
I still treasure the memory of coming home last Sunday into the cool and calm of your house, with a welcoming old creature & a delicious cold chicken – and flowers, & all so neat & peaceful.
Very much love Philip
1 On 22 June 1965 Eva had written: ‘I have brought the medal back and put it away in what I hope is a safe place. [The Hewetts and friends] all thought it lovely, especially the Queen’s Head on the one side and the letter from The Keeper of the Privy Purse. They weren’t so impressed with the design on the other side. Kitty said she could have done better herself.’
11 July 1965
My very dear old creature,
What a dismal weekend, so far anyway! It’s hardly done anything but rain, or look like raining: the leaves of the chestnut trees hang down & look very resigned. Further, I’ve just weighed myself & I am certainly no lighter – I might even be a bit heavier. This is a great disappointment, as I had drunk less this week
(no beer at lunch) and tried to use the car less. But the needle on the scales still flickers uncompromisingly beyond 13st 7lbs – 13st 8lbs, 13st 9lbs, I don’t know. Very disappointing. I shall just have to try eating less, not that I feel I eat a lot as it is. According to the fellow in the S. Times last week I ought to be 12st 12lbs in clothes. I eat very little bread, I never buy sugar, what can I give up?1
I wonder if the ebb & flow of life extends to weight! I could do with a spell of ebb.2 Yesterday I noticed outside a church the Hull Samaritan telephone number – do you remember how you thought you wd ring up the L’boro’ one? I do hope you haven’t felt like it since you had your yellow telephone installed. Really, I don’t think I’d know what to say, if I rang them up, not that I want to. I’ve felt fairly depressed recently for no very good reason. I think one is stamped with a particular kind of character, like a butter-pat having a cow or leaves stamped on it, and just has to struggle away with it. I can see that having other Circle members ring you up could be awfully interrupting, but surely it is comforting too. […]
Very best love, Philip
1 On 13 July Eva replied: ‘I must say that you don’t eat a lot, in my way of thinking. Perhaps it is your big frame (bones) which weigh heavily. You don’t eat nearly so much bread as I do.’
2 On 6 July Eva had written: ‘At the C.S.M. [Circle of Silent Ministry] Miss Unwin spoke about the Ebb and Flow of Life. By this she meant that everyone has periods of elation and depression, and made the suggestion that the best way to deal with the last-named was to try to keep peaceful and “let go” and rest – if possible. I ventured to say how lonely I found it at times, and when they knew I was on the telephone each one put down my number, so now I am rather fearing that the ’phone will be always ringing and that I shall get less jobs done than ever. Still, as Walter remarked, when I told him last night, “You can’t have it both ways”. This is a queer letter, Creature, but it isn’t often I moan in a letter. Don’t take it too seriously.’
Philip Larkin Page 47
