185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
12 April [1975]
Dearest Ria,
It looks to me as though you must have had a lovely weekend at the mill, and we all thought of you very much on your Birthday.
Yesterday T. and T. and I went to Ightham Mote – you remember John and you went, and I think hitch-hiked back, and I’ve still got the booklet you brought back, and always wanted to go – we walked there from Sevenoaks, but the fields were deep in mud and the farmers had ploughed everything up and it was very hard going, however we staggered on gallantly, and thought the house was lovely – but you won’t be surprised to hear that we got a bus back to Sevenoaks in order to be in time for scones and tea at the Copper Kettle.
I could not think what was wrong with me this holidays, but I finally realised that this was the first time for I daren’t think how many years that I haven’t had some one home for a holiday (please don’t think this is a criticism, how could it be? – and it’s lovely to have you back for 2 weekends anyway) – and of course I must and shall get used to this, but I suppose it needs adjusting to like other things.
Tina has no more trouble from her eyes now, so I needn’t have fussed about this! I’m afraid Miss Freeston’s has been rather dull, and of course ill-paid, but I hope it has been a rest for her, after MacEntees.
They say The Gambler is very good (though not the Dostoevsky story, it seems) but I don’t think I could bear to watch him dribble away the money like that.
Mary is being wonderfully energetic going round bookshops selling In My Old Days. It was well received in the Times Lit. Supp: this week. She says she doesn’t want a job now, she is too busy, which is a good thing really, because after grandpa died she told me she couldn’t face life without some dull, hard, everyday work – and now it’s clear that she can manage without this, which means that the feeling of loss has healed to some extent, as it ought to do.
I’ve started at Miss Freeston’s now of course, but I mustn’t complain, after all I’m earning on those days instead of spending, and one or 2 of my pupils are paying for themselves, and are keen and quite interesting.
I am sorting out the Black Bag, and putting all your certificates &c into an envelope of your own. Such a lot of rubbish there is – going back to the Earls Court days.
I am so glad you got a break, dear – I don’t forget how hard you are working, looking forward to seeing you. Love, Ma X
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
10 May [1975]
Dearest Ria,
Just a bit of a letter, as I want you to know we’re all thinking of you as you bend over your automatic reflexes. I know the work seems endless, and I hope you have arranged breaks for yourself, and cups of tea at frequent intervals.
Yesterday we went down to Hampton Court to see the Mantegnas – they’ve been cleaning them for 16 years, and I never remember seeing them properly, but now they’re hung by themselves in an old coachhouse painted pink, and they are lovely I think. The flowers in the garden were lovely – there was such a scent of yellow wallflowers that I felt quite drunk. Daddy went into the cafeteria and had coffee as he always feels cold, being thin, and I sat on a bench and finished my last nightie for Baby Flora. Daddy is a little bit better, I think, since he had another 2 teeth out, but I’m still worried about his health. He is going to get his cards away from the dreaded Dr Magonet (not so easy as he’s never in) and go to Dr Blair, at the top of Balham Hill – you know, the ones who built their own house.
Today we had lunch at Mary’s and Tina wore her new almondgreen over-dress, which suits her so well, and the Usbornes were there, who are looking after Fenton House, I can’t help feeling envious as they get such a lovely flat, but it must be a nuisance opening it every day and taking the money for the tickets. They were playing the harpsichords and spinets in the various rooms, and I always think it sounds lovely, going from room to room, but Tina said it gave her a headache.
I am very pleased because I got a letter from Jonathan Cape’s saying that I was a finalist (though NOT a winner, like Neil) in the Times ghost story competition,* so it will come out in their Ghost book in November. They say they’ll send me £50, which is better than a slap in the face with a wet fish! But I haven’t got a publisher, yet for my book about my uncles &c. – please keep your fingers crossed.
Tina tells me that you have more or less definitely decided to work at London Univ: on the mechanism of pain next year, I was very interested, naturally, and when you have time I hope you’ll tell us all about it. I expect you feel it’s enough to get through the next few weeks.
Well, I suppose I must get down to my indexing, reports &c. It’s very slow work. And no cups of tea in the evening, because my ankles have started swelling again. (complain, complain)
Bless you darling and don’t get too thin –
much love Ma
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
18 May [1975]
Dearest Ria,
No! No! I was not squashing about your holiday, or if it seemed that
I was then I must have said things wrong as I so often do – you’ve often told me that I’m an old bag, who says nothing will turn out well (viz: the moulded Anglo-Saxon chess set, which came out beautifully) but I certainly didn’t mean to do it this time, I was only afraid to disappoint you about Ian Price’s magic carpet as he only does very commonplace trips, the Costas and Majorca, but I have sent off the Darmead envelope which I hope has reached you, and don’t forget that you can book through Daddy and get 10% reduction.
Of course you’re thinking about your holiday, it’s an absolute necessity after a very hard spell of work, and rest assured that I am all on your side and I like Malaga – I liked it when we were there, and even if a car was too expensive to have all the time, there are those
2 stations, the big marble one with trains to Ronda (and Cordoba, 108 grados) and the little one to Fuengirola and Torremolinos, and buses to Nerja &c the other way, and the harbour, and the archaeological walk with the peacocks – if I really seemed to think it was a bad idea, I must have been raving, but that is quite possible, as I have felt a bit overworked too, though you may permit yourself a quiet smile at that.
I have just finished the proof-reading and indexing, or as much as I can do – I think I had better send it away, as every time I look at it I see further errors, and it has to be in by the 19th: it was a terrible job, and I really need weeks more to do it properly. – Daddy has had another tooth out and is a little better, but still very rotten inside, and I have persuaded him to try a new doctor, so he went to get his cards, but Dr Magonet was very angry, and shouted at him that he didn’t want him as a patient anyway as he was always complaining, though Daddy has only seen him 3 times in 10 years. But Daddy told him he was unfit for general practice, and I’m glad someone has told him so at last. He hasn’t hardly any patients left anyway.
We have just had a letter from the G.L.C. offering a 3-room flat in Battersea, they say I must come and see it on Tuesday morning, but I can’t go in the middle of the week just before the exams, when all are revising and working furiously. We must ask to see it later, but I won’t let it go, of course it is smaller and still on an estate and I fear will have bathroom and loo together which is so difficult with Daddy but I suppose I’ll have to face this sometime. Anyway I will let you know what it’s like. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a little house and garden, and an attic to put things in. But they are a great luxury nowadays.
Tina and Terry off to Bristol for the weekend, with the almondgreen dress back from the cleaners, and then to the caravan next week, as they have a week off, and the forecast is for good weather. But Daddy hasn’t got next Saturday off, so I’m not sure that we can go away.
Well, here I am rambling on about my affairs. Really I am thinking of you darling, I promise you, and your enormous work-load – I wish I could learn it for you, but I should never be able.
much love always dear bless you Ma X
185 Poynders Gardens
London, sw4
Friday [30 May 1975]
Dearest Ria –
Another wretched letter written in a hurry, early in the morning just before I get up to get the tea. (If I get up before 5 a.m. I allow myself an extra bit of bread-and-butter; if later, not).
It’s just that Daddy has to go into St George’s, Tooting, on Sunday June 8th for an operation for a nasty ulcer in the back passage – you remember Dr Magonet said there was nothing wrong – he said this in a letter – but the new doctor discovered it at once and said he must be hospitalised as soon as possible. Thank God we are clear of Dr Magonet.
If they have to cut through his sphincter muscle poor old Da: will have to manage with a plastic bottle for the rest of his days, but this may be avoidable. Pray it won’t happen, won’t you darling, and if it does, well this is just one more difficulty to face and we have already faced many.
He really has been rather ill and has not booked for Malaga yet, but I have written to John about this and am sure we can fix all and you can still get 10% reduction – also I shall have to ask John to look after the MOT test for the car – I am sure you understand.
I am telling you all this NOT TO WORRY YOU – No reason to worry – but because you are Ria and I tell you everything –
all my love Ma
Not a good week – poor Tina lost her bag with £30, her cheque book, key, Barclay card, theatre tickets, everything – you know the feeling! You have to build up everything again, like a limpet losing its shell.
Miss Freeston’s
3 June [1975]
Dearest Ria,
Lovely to see you on Sunday, and Daddy much cheered up. John called round on Monday and will take the little car away on Thurs: morning. It is very good of him. As Rail strikes are threatened for the summer it will be absolutely necessary to keep the car going, even if it costs more than the original £130 to repair it! Then I’ll get the insurance and licence. It’s a great relief that he’ll take charge, as everything is getting too much for Daddy. But Daddy will see to the Darmead booking, that will be quite all right. I am very enthusiastic about the Malaga scheme and remember the peacocks’ tails streaming over the Roman ruins at this very moment.
Have had to spend a long time with the police this morning about Tina’s bag – but they won’t find anything, he interviewed the caretaker (who is deaf) and the caretaker’s wife (who is simple) and suggested that one of the girls might have taken it ‘for a prank’ – at that moment an elegant pupil aged 36 came in – he said ‘oh, I see you have more mature pupils’. However it’s as well that the caretaker should know we’ve had the police in.
I am thinking of telling Miss Freeston I shall have to have a bit more money as the fares make it hardly worth coming down here, but I know I am lucky to have a job at all.
Tina is coming to have tea at 4.15 as our Lyons is shutting down, as indeed they are all over London, and we thought we ought to consecrate it with a last cup of watery tea. If she has any houses nearby on her list we might go and see them. She has found a very nice one in St John’s Hill, she says, rather like Valpy’s, but it backs on the railway, and you do hear the trains go by. Or there is a flat in Grafton Square, which Terry fancies, but that might be too small – that is £10,000.
Daddy goes in to have his x-rays on Friday (no liquids) and I am taking him to the theatre on Thursday night (preview of the Gay Lord Quex) as I thought it might cheer him up. I have got seats at the end of the row, I thought this very tactful, as he can slip out, but the man was very surprised and kept saying, I can do you two nice ones in the middle of the row, dearie, you’d see much better.
Otherwise it is just a question of sticking it out till Sunday, because he is evidently worse but I just don’t know what to do about it, but they will know in St George’s.
My A level candidates know nothing. They are ‘learning quotations’.
Best of love, dear. I think of you all the time. Marvellous how you keep going, because I know what the work is like. I hope you can get out into the garden and sample a lettuce – like the Flopsy Bunnies – X Ma.
185 Poynders Gardens, sw4
12 June [1975]
Dearest Ria,
Just to tell you that Daddy is safe back in Belgrade Ward after the op: I don’t know exactly what had to be done, but he wouldn’t be back in the ward if he wasn’t all right, he’d be in the post-op, so I shall go to bed in peace. I will go round and try and find a doctor or staff sister tomorrow.
I enclose a letter from the Town Hall about your little stall – just put it by, till you have time to write.
I have the cheque for the car now, but could not get through to the Poly all day – at last they answered at 4.30 in the Maths dept but John of course wasn’t there – I should be so grateful if he could fetch the car – I know I keep asking him to do things but he is most kind –
T and T have many offers (at £8950) for their flat so will get their deposit for the house quite soon I do believe – it will be very exciting when they can go in, and Tina says I may prune the roses, which I should love to do. Everything seems to move so quickly, and all you children are suddenly householders.
This is not my good-luck card – I shall send that in a day or two. Back to my foul correcting now, and 1000 good wishes to you and your revision,
much love,
Ma
[Good-luck card]
[June 1975]
And very best wishes for your exams from your loving
Ma
John is fetching the car tomorrow and will be down to get your things, and Daddy is mending slowly: Tina thinking about carpets for her new house, and I’m ticking at my scripts and we’re thinking of you as hard as we can.
X
Maryllis Conder (’Willie’)*
25 Almeric Road
London, sw11
16 October [1976]
Dearest Willie – Excuse this dirty piece of paper and a short letter – I know you will. I did value your letter so much, as you understand these things. I was told a year ago after his op. that Desmond couldn’t live, but didn’t really prepare myself as I should have done, and I do feel it as a dreadful blow, only I really oughtn’t to complain as I’m so lucky being here, with Tina and Terry upstairs, and their bicycles in the hall, and someone to talk to whenever I need to; the truth is I was spoilt, as with all our ups and downs Desmond always thought everything I did was right – I sympathise so much with what you say about your aunt.
I’m so glad we were able to get the move over so that Desmond died at home, and not in hospital; the district nurse was there that morning, such a kindly person, not much of a nurse but a very good woman, and she helped me to see him out of this world and read a Bible chapter, absolutely naturally, as only a West Indian could do, and I have to be glad the suffering is over, but I do miss him.
Everyone (not you) says work will take your mind off it, but I don’t find this at all, I feel much worse at Queen’s Gate with the classes, and very tired at the end of the day: so I think I’ll retire in summer and just do a bit of coaching at the Westminster Tutors, after all I’ll be an O.A.P. and can get reduced bus tickets – so I shall become one of the shabby, talkative, penniless and opinionated Old Friends dreaded by Mike and shall come and see you – I do want to so much. I haven’t been to the Channel Islands since I was 12!
much love –
Mops.
25 Almeric Road
London, sw11
5 January [1977]
Dearest Willie,
Thankyou very much indeed for the headscarf. It’s so pretty – I thought it was myself, and then I knew it was when Maria, who was opening the parcels, said ‘I wouldn’t mind having that’. That was high praise.
When you said you ordered most of your presents (from the National Trust &c.,) I had a mental picture of you sitting in sort of a lighthouse (as I always i
magine the Alderney house with glass on all sides and birds peering in through the windows – waiting for parcels to be rowed across, through spray and storm – but then as you know I still can’t quite make out where you are living, so to speak, permanently – by the way, I remember you told me that the lighthouse was pretty always full up during the summer with family, relations, dependants &c, but if there is any time left in August when I could come and see you there, will you let me know?
Christmas wasn’t as depressing as I expected, as the children made big efforts, & Valpy, Angelines, the 2 little boys and Angie’s brother and his new little wife (no English at all and very worried at the idea of setting fire to the pudding, but later on took to it rather and tried to set fire to the mince pies) all came to stay, and chatting to Gregory (now 3) took my mind off things. I really don’t see how one can do without a family. But why one makes quite so many efforts I don’t know – Jeannie writes to say she had dishes of burning raisins (snapdragon?) &c. which I’m sure were lovely – but I think we middle-class ladies are really driving ourselves mad by doing all the things that were formerly done by a ‘staff’ and keeping up our cultural interests as well, – tho’ there you are, we can’t help it. But when I lived in the council flat I noticed the other ladies seemed to have time to stand on their doorsteps and talk to each other all day, and I thought they managed better than I did.
Valpy is finishing his book on the economy of Peru and I think transferring his field of interest to Mexico, as the regime in Peru has changed and now they have to accept loans from the U.S., which apparently means that their economy won’t be worth studying. Maria has another year to go for her physiology MSC. She had to do electronics as well, to design her own apparatus – she describes this as quite good fun, but then everything seems fun to Maria. And as you know I’m occupying the ground floor of Tina and Terry’s house so I can always consult her about things.
Mary’s father Ernest Shepard died this year (90) and we have been quite busy with various exhibitions – there’s going to be one at The Hague now – as there appears to be a kind of mania about Winnie the Pooh at the moment. He left a quarter of his royalties every year to Mary and this has made her reasonably well off for her lifetime, which is a great relief.
So I Have Thought of You Page 22