Philip Larkin
Page 54
4 January 1970
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
It’s bright here, but cold and frosty: plenty of ice on the bedroom window! My bedroom faces south, so ought to be reasonably mild, but in fact the window fits so badly it’s chilly in winter.
I wonder how you have been since I left? You sounded in better spirits on Tuesday, but I’m sure it would be wise to stay in as much as possible. Thank heaven for the storage heaters! I hope they never let you down.
You probably gathered I went up to Haydon Bridge on Wednesday: I sent you a letter from there, but it may not have reached you by Saturday. Of course we didn’t go to the New Year’s Eve celebrations at Allendale, just sat in & ate cold goose. The hotel was quieter than usual: I think some of the staff were off with flu. Monica had a bad cough & had lost her voice: I felt sorry for her, she must have had a wretched Christmas, & no one to get coal in or buy bread.
It certainly seems awful, term starting tomorrow – almost no holiday at all! Not even twelfth night reached! There were more cards waiting when I got back, but I doubt if I have as many as last year. I’m slowly choking people off.
I didn’t much care for the drive up to Hexham – the road over the dales goes up to 2000 ft, and was covered with snow. I dreaded I shouldn’t be able to hold the car with the brakes, & that in consequence it would slither off the road – still, I managed it, and it was nice to arrive at the hotel about 6.15 & have a pint of beer, well earned. […]
I remember the sad mistake of your breakfast on Tuesday with much remorse. However, you did get breakfasts the other mornings, after a fashion! How is your foot? That was very strange. We must remember to get you a rubber end for your stick – or even a stouter stick.
Have you learnt how to manipulate the pedal bin? I’m afraid it’s rather a silly present: it might be better if it stood on a mat of some sort. I long to rearrange your house & get rid of half the things in it, so that it would be easier for you, but I expect you like it as it is.
I shan’t know what to buy for your birthday! Have you been sleeping under the rug?
Much love. Philip
5 April 1970
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I expect most of what I have to say will emerge from our telephone conversation tonight, if we have one. Since we last spoke I have become convinced I have another polyp in my nose, wch is annoying and presumably will mean another operation. I can breathe in but not out! Of course, the surgeon said that he had only half done the job, but as usual I hoped for a year or two’s respite.
I haven’t felt really well since returning, as if I had ’flu or something in a very mild form, but not bad enough to stay in. Can’t taste anything.
Anyway, my cold has not been as bad as yours – what a streamer it was. I hope you are recovered, and that the weather is getting milder – I can’t say it is here, really. It seemed warmer when I got back on Friday, but by now it just seems chilly & windy, although the sun is shining. I’m afraid I was not a very nice creature when at home. I wish I could explain the very real rage & irritation I feel: probably only a psychiatrist could do so. It may be something to do with never having got away from home. Or it may be my concern for you & blame for not doing more for you cloaking itself in anger. I do appreciate your courageous struggle to keep going in the old way, and am aware of your kindnesses – I did enjoy the duck, and all the other things – but I am worried about how long you can carry on without help.1 Maeve’s idea proved to be the Old Folks’ Home in Pearson Park, wch she had heard praised. I don’t know whether you’d like it! Perhaps I ought to go & talk to the manager. I always feel you’re happier among your own things, if only they could be reduced by half, & if someone could do the shopping & keep an eye on you.2
I wonder how the hydrangea is faring. Keep an eye on it, too.
I am sitting in my bedroom in dressing gown & rug: it is nearly 2 p.m. I moved slowly today. Perhaps when I get out the air may clear my head. Perhaps!
I am due to go to London on Tuesday for a conference, returning on Friday, but do write here as usual. I enclose a few stamps. Have you managed to get any more drink yet? Maeve asked for the pic! Of course, I hadn’t got one. Perhaps next time. If I don’t feel better by Tuesday than I do now I may well not go to London anyway.
I do badly need some slippers here. I must make a serious effort.
Am drinking sherry now but can’t taste it. Curses!
Much love,
Philip (Polyp)
1 On 6 April Eva wrote: ‘Dear Creature, I don’t blame you in the least for being angry and irritated when you were here, for you are on a higher plane (if that is the correct expression) than I am, and I must seem a childish and foolish old creature to you. I was sorry over the duck, and I don’t think I shall ever have another, but you did warn me.’
2 In her letter of 6 April Eva also wrote: ‘What you say is quite true about my being happier amongst my own things, but I feel terribly lonely, and the un-certain weather gets on my nerves. / If I went into a home I shouldn’t want to say, play cards every evening or have to keep up a conversation with anyone about things I know nothing about!! / Some of them might be very clever!’
26 April 1970
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] Next Thursday I shall be at Fabers (6–8 p.m.) to ‘meet Robert Lowell’, an American poet for whom I have no admiration at all.
I’m sorry the hydrangea isn’t doing well: they are rather delicate, aren’t they. Perhaps repotting would do it good. A pity we can’t all be repotted!1
Much Love, P.
1 On 20 April Eva reported: ‘The blooms have faded and the green buds are not opening out. Mrs Slater said the dining room was too warm for it so I have put it on the hall stand but it still remains the same. I think the pot is too small for it.’
22 May 1970
Hull
My very dear old creature,
How nice to hear from you. Yes, you won’t have had a letter from me for some time – me in person instead.
Don’t worry about the Degree Day1 – I’ll take you & bring you back. We shall have to have lunch before we go. And I will take you to Abbeyfields on July 12.2 I wonder if you’ve had a reply from Mrs Hammond yet?
Life goes on here. I sleep very erratically at night: I think I have too much on the bed.
The architect rang up to say that our new Library has won a gold medal – it isn’t official till July, but I’m very happy. I do wish you could see it one day!
Very much love,
Philip
1 Larkin received a Leicester University honorary D.Litt. in De Montfort Hall. He drove Eva to the ceremony.
2 Kitty and Philip had persuaded Eva to stay in one of the Abbeyfield houses in Loughborough for two weeks.
24 May 1970
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
It looks a fine day outside, & the glass is high,1 so I dare say people will be going out in their hundreds and thousands. I’m glad I’m not travelling!
This has been a week of minor irritations – my laundry has taken to not replying to my letters, so I am taking it elsewhere. My garage does things wrong, & seems to have stolen the little purse of money I keep for parking meters. The replacing of the bedroom curtain rail will take some doing: it’s rusty and clogged with paint. Very awkward thing to handle, too! on the top of a pair of steps.
However, they are minor irritations, so there’s no need to dwell on them unduly. But it’s been a dismal week altogether: I regret the banning of cricket as a giving-in to forces of disruption more baleful than any apartheid could ever be.2 We shan’t go to Lords this year. The prospect of another five years of Harold Wilson is enough to depress anyone. It’s a gloomy spring.
The back garden looks very nice at present, full of white lilac. I ought to pick some & bring it in. Perhaps after
lunch I may drive out into the country & see how it is looking. There’s a special bit along the Humber to the west of Hull I like to visit, a group of villages such as Yokefleet, Laxton, and so on – very lonely & peaceful.3 Then of course tomorrow is Bank Holiday: I shall try to work as usual. The Library will be open. I shall sit in my office – no Betty! – dictating into a tape-recorder, so that she can type it on Tuesday.4
Yes, it’s very nice that our architects are to get an RIBA gold medal for the building. I look forward to its announcement (on July 1st) with a great deal of pleasure. This university hasn’t been particularly appreciative of their work, & the award may vindicate them in the eyes of the Building Committee.
I hope you manage to write to Mrs Hammond:5 I thought the letter you drafted was all right. I should add ‘Perhaps you would also kindly let me know the terms I shall be paying, and also wch of the two rooms you showed me will be available.’ It will be a bit like going to school. Had you thought of post? I suppose you could go up to York Road once or twice to see what bills had arrived – but otherwise it will be as if you were away on holiday. I hope it will be a holiday for you, old creature – I’m sure it will be!
Much love Philip
1 Larkin refers to the barometer indication of high atmospheric pressure.
2 The 1968–9 MCC tour of South Africa had been called off because of South African objections to the selection by the MCC of the mixed-race player Basil d’Oliveira. Subsequent years saw further sporting boycotts of apartheid South Africa, which did not regain international respectability until 1991.
3 Larkin dedicated a separate album to eighteen of these Humber village photographs (DLV/2/3). Richard Bradford reproduces four of them in The Importance of Elsewhere, 143.
4 Larkin had been set against acquiring a dictaphone for his office; but Betty insisted and he was won over.
5 At Abbeyfield House, Loughborough, where she was to stay in July.
31 May 1970
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] One good thing. I found my purse of money – it was on the floor of the car, so it hadn’t been stolen. Last Sunday afternoon, I pressed a switch that is supposed to squirt water over the windscreen to wash it (on the outside), & to my horror found a jet of water playing on my feet! There’s always something going wrong. I took it to the garage, & when I was there a rabbit trotted by! They say there are several round there: it’s in a residential district, near the nursing home I was in.
Well, we don’t have to have Mr Wilson for another five years if enough of us vote for Mr Heath, but I don’t know if enough will. I don’t know who our member is. Some useless layabout, I expect. I see Mr Powell is still saying we must keep out the immigrants – a pity he isn’t leading the Conservatives.1 What with the election & football, we shall be properly bored in the next few weeks. I really am not much interested in the World Cup.
I’m sorry I didn’t hear the poems read last Sunday that you mentioned, though on investigation I find that I had been asked permission for it. I’d like to have heard the audience reaction – did they laugh? At the funny bits, I mean.
I have still to write many more letters about this Scotch holiday: it’s like organising a campaign of war, and I seem to have less & less time. Perhaps I am slowing down! We are going to Lochmaddy, on North Uist, in the Outer Hebrides – at least, if fates are kind.
It’s very warm in this bedroom.
My dearest love, old creature, I think of you daily,
Philip
1 The election, held on 18 June 1970, resulted in a surprise victory for the Conservatives under Edward Heath. Labour, under Harold Wilson, lost power. Enoch Powell was a prominent Conservative MP with strong anti-immigration views.
13 July 1970
Picture postcard1
Hull
Not quite so warm up here – I hope you are enjoying your leisure2 & finding plenty to do. I expect it’ll seem lonely at first. Read that Monica Dickens book I saw on the shelf – can you find it again?
Much love P
1 The University, Kingston on Hull.
2 The card is addressed to Abbeyfield House, 17 Victoria St, Loughborough. Eva spent 12–24 July there. Philip set out for Scotland on 17 July.
2 August 1970
Invergarry Hotel, Invergarry
My very dear old creature,
[…] Well, our stay on Skye coincided with really rotten weather. So I don’t remember it with much delight: the hotel was quite good, though, a large comfortable country house – somewhat on the cold side, though! Only about three rooms were at all warm, & that didn’t include the bar. On Friday we left & had to wait 2½ hours for a car ferry at Kylerhea, wch was tiresome, and eventually got here about 5 p.m. We didn’t like it at first – no real bar, public rooms too small, too much food – but we have become more reconciled. What we have been doing all the time is go out for the day with a packed lunch, & find some pleasant spot to eat it in. Not much exercise I suppose, but just occasionally we have walked a bit. M. keeps telling me that this is Ben this or Loch that, but it all looks much the same to me. When on Skye we went to Dunvegan Castle, the seat of the MacLeods, and were shown round, along with about 98 other people. Today we ate our lunch beside Loch Ness, but saw nothing untoward.
There is no postal collection today (Sunday), but there is one tomorrow, although it’s Bank Holiday in Scotland, so I hope you’ll get this some time in the week – it’ll be stale news by then, I’m afraid. We move tomorrow to Aberfoyle for one night, then Hexham one night, then I suppose I go home on Wednesday, Aug 5 is it? When I get home I’ll ring you up, to report safe arrival. It does seem a long time since I left you in the front room at Abbeyfield with the peach Monica had sent!
It sounds almost too good to be true that the gas has been successfully converted! Does it really work well? I am so glad. I know what a worry it was for you. I think I should eat meat if you can – protein is good for old creatures.
The flowers are beautiful up here, especially the wild ones. They don’t seem to have been killed off by sprays as in England. M. collects them and presses them in her guide book.
With very much love, old creature – M. sends love,
Philip
4 October 1970
Set 3, Beechwood House, Iffley Turn, Oxford1
My very dear old creature,
It’s a quiet dull Sunday morning, and I’m sitting in my sitting room at Iffley. I have no plans for today (rather a change) except to have lunch and dinner in college, so I shall have to get in either by car or bus. The other Sunday I was here I walked! Very hot it was, too.
The pictures I showed you were photographs taken by me & still in my possession. I’ll bring them the next time I come (end of the month, or perhaps sooner). I’ve also taken some black & white ones wch I’ll also bring. There is someone else living here now, a Danish professor. He seems very pleasant. Another professor is coming on Tuesday – a man from Belfast whom I know, called Connell. I’m afraid my morning baths will soon be a thing of the past. So far, I’ve managed to have my half-hour soak every day.
I don’t know whether I have much news. Yesterday Charles Monteith and I motored out to a village called Steeple Aston and had lunch with Iris Murdoch and her husband. J. B. Priestley was going to be there but had a bad cold & didn’t come (I thought of you). His wife was there.2 It was a very nice outing. Next Sunday I have been conscripted to drive out the Dane to have lunch with Sir Max Mallowan & his wife Agatha Christie!3 Forgive all these famous names. For six months I shall be among them fairly constantly, I think. I feel very small and ignorant among them. John Wain turned up on Friday & we had a drink: he lives near here. […]
Much love, dear old creature,
Philip
1 Larkin had taken sabbatical leave in Oxford to work on the Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse.
2 Iris Murdoch (1919–99), novelist; married to John Bayley (1925–2015), writer and
literary scholar; J. B. Priestley (1894–1984), novelist; his third wife Jacquetta Hawkes (née Hopkins, 1910–96) was an archaelogist.
3 Max Mallowan (1904–78), archaelogist, second husband of the crime writer Agatha Christie (née Miller, 1890–1976).
21 October 1970
Beechwood House, Set 3, Iffley Turn, Oxford
My very dear old creature,
I’m sitting in my room at All Souls to write to you: tomorrow (my usual night) I am dining out, so shall probably not have much time. Last night I dined at New College, wch was very convivial! Also lunched at St John’s, my old college, so I had quite a social day – left me feeling not very good.
I give frequent thought of your future, though I don’t know whether this is the right letter to expatiate on it. It seems to me that you either give up having a home of any sort, and live with either Kitty or myself, or in someone else’s house, or in Abbeyfield or somewhere comparable, or in a nursing home or hospital, OR you don’t give up your home, keeping the present house or moving into a smaller house or flat, and either have someone to live with you or have someone to be a kind of part-time general daily housekeeper. Or, of course, you can just go on as you are!
Sell home Keep home
1. Live with Kitty
1. Move somewhere smaller
2. Live with Philip
2. Have living-in companion
3. Live with ANOther
3. Have daily housekeeper
4. Live in Abbeyfield or some other institution
4. Go on as at present!
These are the eight alternatives as I see them – I’ve missed out marriage, or having a lodger, as impracticable. I think there’s a good deal to be said for keeping the home in some form or other, unless you felt, for instance, that Abbeyfield suited you very well & that you’d like it as a permanency. On the other hand, I think you are reaching a time – have reached it – when for quite long periods you don’t want to go shopping, & when it would be safer & more helpful to have someone looking in daily to see if you are all right & if you want anything. It may be that Kitty & the neighbours are kindly doing this already, but it seems to me that you don’t see many people.