24 August 1965
My very dear old creature,
Not a very nice night – a heavy downpour of rain, quite tropical: no thunder, but extremely wet! Actually it has been relatively cool here.
Thank you for your letter of Saturday & lettercard of yesterday. I fancy the easiest thing wd be for me to drive to L’borough on Saturday morning – 28th – arriving about lunchtime. On Tuesday I should go to London for the day as I did before, returning about 9 p.m. Then I wd drive back to Hull on Wednesday morning. Such are my plans at present. If I change my mind I’ll ring up. I must stay on Friday to welcome the laundry back!
So they are moving on Thursday.1 I suppose they meant well in not telling you, but it seems typical. Gibber gibber gibber. I wonder if you will be involved. Don’t find yourself scrubbing floors while Rosemary lounges drinking milo.2
I don’t make much progress with my weight-losing: I stay between 13 & 13½ stone, nearer the latter I’m afraid. Bisks are the thing, plain Bisks. Not Mini-bisks. I should quite like a chicken, but I should be happy with beef. Whichever you like, old creature. Whichever is easier.
I have paid for my spectacles and they seem better! Funny, isn’t it? I do hope your stomach is better.3 Drinkwater’s elder daughter was married today.
Much love old creature
1 On 26 August 1965 the Hewetts, moved from 53 York Road to ‘Oddstones’, 283 Forest Road, Loughborough, a larger house more in keeping with Walter’s salary. The new house was 1½ miles away.
2 A drink made with milk or water and a chocolate and malt powder, produced by Nestlé.
3 Eva had written on 23 August that Kitty had felt she must delay telling her the precise date of the move because of her ‘tummy’.
12 September 1965
My very dear old creature,
As you see from my pen, I’m not in the habit of writing letters!1 In fact I haven’t written any so far. Well, we have certainly not done any better than anyone else for weather on this holiday – the first day was simply shocking, rain & wind, & then there followed some cold days & nights (the temperature went down to 41° one night) and perpetual showers. Add to this the hotel’s 100% refusal to supply any kind of heat anywhere & you’ll readily understand how this holiday has begun to seem like a fortnight under canvas with the Territorials. Bathing has been quite out of the question, and it hasn’t really been warm enough to sit out – & sitting in is a chilly enough experience, as all the chairs are damp & the cold creeps into one’s bones.
However, you can’t expect to enjoy yourself on holiday like you do at home, so let me pass on to pleasanter aspects – after a day or two we got the hang of the place again, & are finding plenty to interest us among our fellow guests. One most obnoxious & loudmouthed young man who left, thank God, this morning tried to make everyone guess what he did, in the bar one night: after many unsuccessful suggestions Monica said “corset manufacturer” more out of rudeness than anything else, & he turned out to be a director of Spirella!2 Thank heavens he has gone, he & his sheepfaced wife. Now I must go too – to church. The day is what you would call “clouding over”. So I must fetch my Regenmantel.3
Sunday p.m. Another cold afternoon: really, it is miserable here! I’ve snoozed on my bed a bit – only place to keep warm.
Thank you for your letter wch got here very quickly – day after, I think! I hope your telephone is working again. You’d not take too kindly to the idea of a Brush student, whatever they are. If you had any kind of student, a library one from the college wd be fairly quiet, but I’m sure you’re right in thinking your catering days are over, except for spongeing creatures who come & eat you out of house & home.4 Talking about eating, the diet has pretty well gone by the board. It’s hard to do otherwise. So I expect I shall have to start all over again when I get back to Hull. The food is quite nice on the whole, usually fruit juice & porridge for breakfast along with the principal dish; soup & salad & cold stuff for lunch, or else hot fish; no tea – actually it’s a fearful long time between lunch & dinner, & we have once been to a café for a light tea; then dinner is four courses & eatable enough as a rule. We had a sort of stewed duck last night, & I think I caught the word “faisan” on the menu tonight.
But will it ever be warm? It’s begun to rain again; half past three on Sunday. I bet you have a good fire & are snoozing on the sofa. I don’t know where all the guests are: there are none in this “lounge”, so perhaps they are all gone to bed in desperation.
I heard from Simpson’s that to reface my jacket on both sides wd cost £12.5 Awgh! I think it wd be best not to risk the jacket looking lopsided, though. I never looked to see if I was covered by insurance, but I don’t suppose I was. […]
Very dear love P.
1 The letter has been written with a ballpoint, and the first two or three lines are markedly scratchy.
2 Spirella manufactured made-to-measure corsets from 1904 until 1989, its ‘corsetiers’ calling at clients’ homes for confidentiality.
3 ‘Raincoat’ (German).
4 On 15 September Eva wrote to Philip on Sark: ‘I have heard of someone who lived at the end of York Road, an elderly lady, now dead, who had several students and with the money received from them, employed a daily help to do all the cooking and work. She just wanted company at night – someone sleeping there. Not a bad idea I think.’ A ‘Brush student’ was presumably a student funded by the Brush Company of Loughborough (see note to letter of 11 February 1951).
5 Larkin had scorched one side of his jacket while ironing it and the tailor (Simpsons, Piccadilly) could not find an exact match of material for the repair.
10 October 1965
My very dear old creature,
I am slowly getting my room straight after the visitors on Thursday. What happened was that John Wain was given a dinner at The University, & then a few of the guests came back to my flat, where Maeve was already entertaining the Hartleys.1 We were eight in all. God, don’t people mop it up! All the cigarettes I put out vanished, all the bread & cheese I put out vanished, and the only reason all the drink didn’t vanish was that I kept it in the kitchen & doled it out myself. One glass & one plate were broken, both belonging to Maeve, wch was a pity. John got very drunk, but was very nice about it. Oh dear, though, how exhausting I find such an occasion! The next day John had to give his lecture, wch I chaired – the ass forgot his notes, whether accidentally or on purpose I don’t know: it was all very embarrassing. Oh, how glad I am it’s all over!
Another burden is an artist called Sillince – to cut a long story short, I met him in the graveyard when Monitor was being filmed: he seemed to be a pal of Betjeman’s. Now he is having an exhibition in the University, & I had to open that. Previously I had to go round and have a look at the stuff, wch resulted in my being given one & buying two (35gns).2 Then after the opening I had to have lunch with him, his wife & two other people in Beverley. A rotten lunch, & rendered worse by the fact that his wife was clearly ill in some unidentifiable way – very fat & slow, & didn’t speak easily, but ate neatly enough & read the menu for herself.
Anyway, after that peace reigned & I could begin Thursday’s washing up. […]
With very best love Philip
1 Philip had invited his friend the novelist and poet John Wain, to give a lecture in Hull. See note to the letter of 16 March 1952.
2 William Augustus Sillince (1906–74) contributed work to Punch between 1936 and 1974, including notable wartime political cartoons (sometimes assisting Leslie Illingworth). At this time he was teaching in the School of Art in Hull. The paintings Larkin bought, including an atmospheric watercolour of Spring Bank Cemetery, are currently in the Larkin Society Collection, Hull History Centre.
21 November 1965
My very dear old creature,<
br />
[…] See the picture of Auden in the S. Times Colour Supplement. A chap from Auden’s American publishers (also mine) said to me that Auden had told him to tell me to “keep writing”. Nice of him. I saw him get an Honorary Degree at Reading but have never spoken to him. He sounds as if he has a comfortable enough life, doesn’t he – but how early he gets up! I reckon I shd get up at 9, bath, breakfast, shave, dress – I shouldn’t be ready for much before 11. Do you think I shall be living like him at 58?1 No, nor do I.
My burnt jacket came back. The new panels aren’t quite the same as the old cloth – how annoying! It means I can never wear the suit (& it’s a new suit) on any occasion that really matters. It looks, if anything, worse in artificial light than daylight. My other new suit & sports jacket came too: they seem fairly all right. […]
Much love,
Philip
1 Larkin had just turned forty-three.
1966
7 February 1966
Hull
My very dear old creature,
I am back at the flat just before going out to dinner with the architects: I’ve made up my laundry, wch is very thin this week. It’s raining outside. I feel rather tired, but not too tired, though I should prefer to stay in by the fire.
Is the rain coming in the bathroom again?1 Remember to get the scullery window unstuck if the men come again.
I’m sorry I was not more sympathetic during my stay. I’m not really unsympathetic, I just get mad with irritation.
I suppose you really want someone who would live in & do most of the work, & organise things, & never go away, but it’s a remote prospect, isn’t it. Failing that, live in fewer rooms.
I do feel rather tired now. Still. The roses would increase the value of the house, I suppose.2
There’s no news here. I hope all the people at Oddstones3 are well. Take care of yourself, & don’t climb on those steps.
Much love,
Philip
1 On 8 February Eva wrote: ‘I ’phoned Hammonds this morning and told Mr Freeman that the rain comes in even more than it did before.’
2 On turning eighty Eva had been considering selling 21 York Road. On 8 February she wrote: ‘I mentioned to Kitty about the bungalow and she seems to be of the same opinion as I am, really. Thinks I should be happier staying here, where I know people. I think too that it is a comfort to hear your next door neighbours moving about – which one wouldn’t have in a detached bungalow. She also said the upheaval would mean an awful lot of work. Perhaps I had better think about it a little more before making a decisive move.’
3 The Hewetts’ new home, 283 Forest Road, Loughborough.
13 February 1966
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] I have bought a Valentine to send to Betty, but I always have such trouble disguising my hand – even my printing seems recognisable. It says “You Make Me Feel So Young!” Rather an overstatement. […]
Love from P.
13 March 1966
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] Weren’t those plums awful. I’m sorry I didn’t buy the tinned ones. But you know, I thought they’d be extra good, home bottled and all that. I had a funny experience on Friday. I had got a copy of Kingsley’s new novel, The Anti-Death League, also a tinned steak & kidney pudding, & when I got home I put the one on to boil & sat down to read the other. Fifty minutes later a strange smell crept to my nose! Yes – boiled & burnt & the whole flat full of smoke. Such is the power of the printed word.1 I picked about in the remnants not very successfully. The smoke took a lot of cleaning.
Maeve is holding an Oxfam party next Saturday. She did this once before, filling the house with about 50 people at 2/- a time. I have promised to give a bottle of sherry as one of the prizes. There is a raffle & a bring & buy stall or stalls. She is on the local Oxfam Committee, & the object is to make money. I expect she will make a certain amount. You see how different she is from Monica – or from me, for that matter!
The ginger cake is very nice. Dear old creature, you make such nice things. I won’t send the pictures this time as I want to consult my photographer about them – no, I will send them. I’ll take more at Stratford. Send them back & say wch you like best. Very best love.
Philip
1 A week later, on 20 March, Larkin wrote: ‘Now the reviews of Kingsley’s book are out I wonder if I really read it carefully enough. I found it pretty boring on the whole. I wish I could write a novel! Sometimes I think I shall never write anything more. Of course, if I am spared I should like to write an autobiography.’
9 May 1966
Hull
My very dear old creature,
I drove back through rain last night, & today it is cool and dull. This is a note to say how sorry I am for upsetting you yesterday. Really I have no excuse. I just come home & belch & grumble.1
I had a letter from some student in Dundee enquiring about the poem “Reference Back” & saying that when she was 12 she refused to go & see her father in hospital because she wanted to go out with her friends, & he died that night! I felt I couldn’t pose as being much better. I do hope you are no longer worried & can view things more calmly. I much enjoyed my visit until the shock!2
Monica provided pheasant paté, cold trout & asparagus, & a queer sweet of egg & cream in half oranges!
This afternoon I shall go to Church for a memorial service for one of our councillors. I’m afraid I shall fall asleep. I hope the holiday brochures come in good time.
Much love
Philip
1 In a letter begun late on 9 May, Eva thanked Philip for telephoning to tell her he had arrived back safely. ‘I […] was sitting in the armchair thinking mournfully of the events of the day. I am ever so sorry that you had the shock from the scullery light and wonder which of us turned it on and why it was left on. I just cannot think. Anyway I am glad it did no serious damage to you.’ She goes on to tell him that she has called Murcotts, the electricians, and will ‘ask their man to look at all the lights and alter the two switches which are put in the wrong way’.
2 On 10 May Eva wrote: ‘After reading your notelet I found the poem of yours “Reference Back” and read it. The Dundee Student must feel pretty awful. I know how I felt when I didn’t go to see my father, Still, he didn’t ask me to go. Of course you are not like the student. You have been a very kind and unselfish creature in visiting me always, as well as Monica, and Daddy. Remember how you came every weekend when I was in hospital, and in all the worst weather!’
5 June 1966
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My dear old creature,
A dark morning, no doubt cooler outside: the chestnut trees with their candles are shifting ceaselessly. I am rather late starting this letter, for no very good reason – I arose about 10.15, having slept till then. Then at breakfast I was much interested by reviews of this new Hardy book – I expect you read the one in the Sunday Times.1 I shall have to get the book. I always thought his poem to Tryphena one of his most memorable (it is in Wessex Poems, one of the little red ones). I am in the middle of choosing poems by him for the O.B. There are so many! […]
I dreamed about Kitty the other night, but have forgotten what. Fancy her saying we were utterly unlike each other! Only as one red is utterly unlike another red, I shd have thought. I’m glad she liked the poem.2 Remember me to her. Monica thought she looked very smart.
Maeve looked at your photographs & opined that you look younger than her mother (a waddling old toad), though you’re about 15 yrs older. Well, much love – wd you please send the photos back – say if you want a copy of one?
Love as always P
1 Lois Deacon and Terry Coleman, Providence and Mr. Hardy (1966). The authors examine Hardy’s early relationship with Tryphena Sparks, concluding that she bore him a son.
2 The poem is unidentified. Philip must be responding to a missing letter from Eva.
/>
19 August 1966
Picture postcard1
Tuesday
Many thanks for letter received this morning. I’m glad you got safely there: were the bags all right?2 I am on a paddle steamer at the moment heading for Loch Lomond – weather not too bad but far from warm. Our hotel is beautifully done up & we are v. comfortable, but food cd be more imaginative. I’m sorry I have not written a letter, but I hadn’t any paper on Sunday; I will write. Glad you liked P. Strong.3
Much love to both Philip
1 Loch Lomond, Dunbartonshire.
2 Addressed to Strathmore Hotel, East Parade, Morecambe, Lancs., where Eva and Nellie were on holiday.
3 On 16 August Philip had written to Eva at Morecambe: ‘I enclose a piece from Patience Strong – I thought it rather good advice for me & perhaps you too!’ This cutting is lost, but see letter of 1 February 1953. Eva wrote on 21 August: ‘How kind of you to send a letter to welcome us, and the beautifully expressed advice on the Patience Strong cutting which I shall read every morning.’
18 September 1966
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] Many thanks for your two letters. The bookshop in Hull has bought endless copies of The North Ship,1 silly trusting creatures: they won’t sell. It looks odd to see my three books side by side in a shop – The NS, The LD, The Whitsun W. Funny they all begin with The. I wonder if there’ll ever be a fourth. Not at the rate I’m going now. No one has reviewed The NS yet. […]
Philip Larkin Page 48