My opinion is that it wd be prudent to put it about among your friends that you are looking for someone to be a kind of part-time general daily housekeeper, who wd come in some days to clean and others just to see what you wanted from the shops. Do you think this is feasible? I’ve no idea what kind of wage they’d expect, but this is something that might be discussed. This, of course, assumes that poor Mrs Slater has to give up.1
I’ll leave a little space to add anything that turns up.
Friday. Convivial night in Brasenose last night with Librarian of Bodley. Invitations seem to be pouring in. I shall be coming to see you next weekend – either Friday or Sat 30/31, probably Friday. Thanks for letter received today.
Much love,
Philip
1 Eva replied on 26 October: ‘Like you, Creature, I am pondering about my future, although I’m sure I shan’t live to be a hundred! Neither do I want to be. One thing I am sure about is that I ought not to live alone. / It wouldn’t do either to live with you because of all those stairs, and also you would be out a good deal, and I should feel lonely. Neither do I think I could move myself, and sort out and throw away all the things that I no longer wanted. […] I shouldn’t mind living at Abbeyfield but unfortunately I think they do not want anyone that is not exactly fit and able to make their own bed and dust their room. It is a problem, and worries me now more than it used to. […] I don’t think I really want a stranger to live with me, and shouldn’t want to do more cooking. I expect they wouldn’t be satisfied with cold meat two or more times a week as I am!’
25 October 1970
Beechwood House, Set 3, Iffley Turn, Oxford
My very dear old creature,
It’s a nice mild day here, with promise of sun, even. The trees are all very yellowy & fading, but still with plenty of leaves on. The squirrels that live in the grounds are always busy in the mornings, hunting for food I suppose, I expect when the weather gets cold they’ll hibernate.
I’m sorry you felt rather low when I telephoned last night. No doubt the absence of Colemans makes you feel worse.1 Despite your worries, you might take comfort from thinking that (a) you have a nice warm house no one can take from you (b) you’ve plenty of money (c) you can listen to the wireless and read books (d) there won’t be any more storms for another eight months. Don’t you think these are minor consolations? Perhaps we can think of some more at the weekend.
I’m afraid that All Souls is ceasing to be a haven of rest because I get so many invitations out, sometimes outside Oxford, & these take up a great deal of time and energy. I am going to London tomorrow to stay the night with the Day Lewises (Poet Laureate), and on Wednesday I am bidden to dinner in Reading, wch will be a tiresome drive. Last week I had a nice dinner in Brasenose College with the Librarian of the Bodleian. All these clever people make me feel rather small. […]
– 4.15 p.m., and just back from lunch, with an Indian from Canada who has a wife from Hull! Very pleasant people. Of course they have a squalling little girl, but it was a delightful lunch. Preceded by drinks in College with none other than W. H. Auden, produced by Charles Monteith who is a fellow. He is I suppose the best-known English poet since Eliot died.
I must hurry and get this into the post. I do hope you feel better now than when we talked. I wonder why you fell? Had you been doing too much work, to make your legs wobbly? It perturbs me. As long as you didn’t pass out, it may not be too serious. You didn’t say what the doctor said.
Anyway, dear old creature, I shall see you on Friday evening – don’t trouble about the bed, I’ll do that, and I’ll eat any odds & ends. Just to see you is all I want.
Much love – take care – Philip
1 Next door neighbours. Rosemary remembers that Eva ‘found it comforting to hear Mrs Coleman clearing out her grate first thing in the morning and lighting the fire in the room on the other side of the party wall’.
5 November 1970
Beechwood House, Set 3, Iffley Turn, Oxford
My very dear old creature,
[…] Yesterday (Wednesday) I went to London in order to visit a picture dealer whom friends have been urging me to visit.1 I looked at all his pictures & bought two, dating from Victorian days, but certainly at substantial prices. They both had sheep on, and I suspect the dealer thought I was a Yorkshire wool merchant.2 […]
Yours with much love,
Philip
1 Probably Abbott and Holder in Bloomsbury, where Judy Egerton bought watercolours.
2 On 8 November he wrote: ‘This act of folly has been urged by Judy Egerton for a long time now, & I suppose it was interesting though expensive. I bought two 19th century oil paintings: not anyone special: hope I like them when they arrive.’ One of these paintings seems to have been Figure with Sheep, by Peter Le Cave (Philip Larkin Society: Larkinalia Inventory 1, Hull History Centre).
15 November 1970
Beechwood House, Set 3, Iffley Turn, Oxford
My very dear old creature,
[…] The week has been quite interesting, though plagued with social engagements. Kingsley & his wife Elizabeth Jane Howard1 came to Oxford on Wednesday, & we lunched with his son Martin who is at the University, & is rather an awe-inspiring spectacle with long fair hair & a velvet suit. In the evening Kingsley gave a reading of his poems in Balliol Hall, & we sat up rather late. On Thursday evening I had another rather late night at the house of one of the fellows. […]
Very best love,
Philip
1 English novelist (1923–2014). Married to Kingsley Amis 1965–83.
17 December 1970
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
Well. I am in my own nook again, my draughty dingy book-filled flat. I don’t suppose you’ll get this on Saturday as post is beginning to silt up: however, I’ll write it. I got back safely on Monday, as I said, and went to the Common room dinner, wch was fair, but a bit of a change from All Souls. The Vice Chancellor struck me as a terribly silly and vulgar fool.
Then yesterday we had the opening: speeches from Garnett Rees,1 the new Chancellor Lord Cohen,2 and yours truly: it was all over mercifully quickly, and there was a lunch of poached salmon. But alas there wasn’t the magic of the day in June in 1960 when the Q Mother & you & Monica were there!3
Then last night there was the Library Christmas Party, in the Library, fairly quiet & decent though some of the responsible girls still amaze me by their abandoned behaviour.
I wonder if you managed to get to the chiropodist. I do hope so. And did you remember to send your letter to/ me to the Library? I don’t seem to be getting any post. What a foul time of year it is. Chiefly I find it cold here, compared with All Souls. But it’s nice to have my bed again.
I shall be seeing you next week – Wednesday, I expect.
Much love,
Philip
1 Professor of French at Hull from 1957 to 1978.
2 Henry Cohen, Baron Cohen of Birkenhead (1900–77), British physician.
3 Larkin inserted a cutting from the Hull Daily Mail: ‘LIBRARY EXTENSION OPENED’: photograph: ‘Lord Cohen of Birkenhead (left) with Prof. Garnet Rees and Dr Philip Larkin at the opening of the western extension to Hull University’s vast library complex.’
1971
10 January 1971
Beechwood House, Set 3, Iffley Turn, Oxford
My very very dear old creature,
I am wondering this morning whether I shouldn’t have arranged to visit you today: the sun is shining so nicely, & I should only have to jump into my car. But perhaps it would ‘worry’ you, and I haven’t done my jazz article, wch I must put in the post tomorrow. All the same, my thoughts are very much with you on this your 85th birthday, and I hope the day is as mild and peaceful with you as it is here. May you have a good day & useful and decorative presents, & a good sleep at the end to round it off. I wonder if you’ll be able to open the salmon!1
I suppose I have settled down a bit since arriving, thou
gh at first I felt rather sickish & unable to sleep. It’s nice at All Souls in the vacation when there aren’t many fellows in residence and social life is fairly quiet. Term starts next Sunday. Before then this house will fill up even fuller than before. In addition to the Irishman, the Italian, & the Dane who were here last term, then will be a Frenchman, a German & another Englishman. Since we all have breakfast together, and compete for bathrooms, life will be less peaceful! I must say I like to lie in a bath for half an hour before breakfast. It’s when I get my reading done. […]
Next week I hope to restart work on my anthology. I wish I knew how near finishing it I was! It still seems largely incomplete to me. When I have a kind of gross text, I shall take it up to Hull & get it copied (cheaper there) and then hand it in to the O.U.P. They’ll then say it’s much too long, & I shall have to cut it down. But that won’t be hard. And by then it will be time for me to go back to Hull for another 15 years, like a beetle crawling back into the woodwork.
Once again, many happy returns, old creature – very dear & lovable one that you are!! & all love
Philip
1 On 13 January Eva wrote: ‘What a nice sketch of me using the new tin opener. When I first used it I found it rather hard to turn, but suddenly the lid came off and I realized it was “opened”!’ She mentions birthday cards from Maeve Brennan and Betty Mackereth.
14 January 1971
Beechwood House, Set 3, Iffley Turn, Oxford
My very dear old creature,
Your letter came second post today, & so I didn’t get it till I came in after dinner about 9 p.m. How beautifully written it is for an old creature of 85! Your writing is smaller than mine. Truly you are a marvel.
I went to London today for a committee, coming back by the 5.15. Very misty! We had oxtail for dinner, and roes on toast to follow. I’m now back in Beechwood.
Well I suppose I ought to have come for your birthday, but I thought it would worry you, & also I had an article to write.1 But it was such a beautiful day I thought it would have been nice to come. How nice to get cards from all the circle.2 It makes me wonder whether you are not really happier in Loughborough, at least for the present, rather than, say, in Hull, or out at that village near Loughborough. I do worry about your future, of course, but I think your present set up is a fairly comfortable one. Much depends on Kitty of course.
If there is a postal strike you won’t hear from me on Monday, but I’ll write, of course. Aren’t all the workers a nuisance! I bet they make special arrangements for their football coupons. To hell with them.
Good luck with the storeroom!
Much love Philip
1 On 13 January Eva wrote: ‘Yes, my birthday was a very happy day. I did wonder whether you would surprise me with an un-expected visit, which wouldn’t have worried me at all, and we should all have been pleased to see you.’
2 The Circle of Silent Ministry.
28 March 1971
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] Did I say they had a little sherry party for me on Thursday evening? Brenda1 did one of her iced cakes with ‘Welcome Back to the Library’ on it.2 I tried to be nice to everyone, though it was quite an effort. That too was followed by deep depression. It made me want to hide away in a corner and never be seen again.3
When Doris Archer was talking about birds on The Archers it made me think of you and your little flock! I hope they are still faithful & that you are still finding something to give them. Is your garden coming out? There’s nothing in sight here, except buds on the bushes.
Perhaps I’ll ring again this evening.
Much love – Philip
1 Brenda Moon.
2 Larkin returned to Hull on Monday 22 March 1971.
3 On 30 March Eva wrote: ‘I am so sorry to hear that you have felt so fearfully depressed since getting back to Hull and hope you have cheered up by this. I don’t feel too sprightly either and don’t like the thought of the lonely weekend – still, I suppose it is only the same as usual.’
25 April 1971
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] This morning I weighed exactly 15 stone, wch is less than for a long time. I wonder if the non-gin routine is taking effect? Gin & tonic is very fattening. I had a little one at the Espinasses,1 but nothing to speak of. It was quite a pleasant evening, but I couldn’t hear what anybody said. I’m afraid my hearing is deteriorating. When I came back here after Easter I found a circular from the man who’d sold me my hearing aid saying he’d got some new lines and inviting me to come and see them. I think I shall, when I have time. No doubt they’ll cost the earth.
It was nice to have your letter and to get the cutting. You are marvellous to write such long and lucid letters, & in such a good hand. Say what you like, you have lived a good life & are ten or fifteen years younger than your actual age! I wish you’d tell me how it’s done – working all day & never enjoying yourself, I suppose.
[…] Today I have to go & see the celebrated George Hartley who is going to ‘settle my accounts’ up to Oct. 1970 for The Less Deceived. I believe he is finally going to leave Hull: Jean is making him sell their house, wch is half in her name, so he will no longer have a pied à terre here. I don’t know how he will go on selling the book, if he moves! No one will know his address.
Slowly I have been easing my way back into work. It’s rather delicate, coming back into an organisation that’s been running itself for 6 months: one feels rather selfconscious about starting to tell them what to do. However, Brenda (who was Acting Librarian) is very welcoming. I feel sorry for her. She spent some time at Easter nursing a close friend who is seriously ill & who is in fact going to die. […]
Fancy your not taking the sleeping tablets, when you make such a fuss about them! Well, it didn’t do much harm. I shall have the remains of a shepherd’s pie for lunch, & some broad beans (frozen).
Froggy is well, though he misses being ‘put to bed’ at night.2 You spoilt him a bit! Much love
Philip
1 Professor Paul ’Espinasse (1900–75) was Professor of Zoology at Hull. His wife Margaret taught in the English Department.
2 ‘Froggy’ was a soft toy filled with dried beans.
20 May 1971
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
Fancy Kitty making you a froggy! Do tell her that one of its chief characteristics is a certain floppiness, caused by being only 2 ⁄3rds full of beans or whatever it is. That is what enables it to sit up, & hang over your shoulder. It hasn’t got a mouth, or any features except eyes. I think the material shd be fairly strong or stiff. […]
A long day tomorrow, to London. Will write on Sunday as usual, dear old creature. Much love.
Philip.
20 June 1971
Durrants Hotel, George Street, London W1H 6BJ
My very dear old creature,
This has been the most disappointing visit ever! No play on Thursday until 3.30 p.m., no play on Friday after 11.50 a.m. (starting at 11.30), and no play on Saturday at all! Sheer waste of time & money, the money being £1.75 each every day, paid in advance & irrecoverable.1 So you can imagine I feel pretty fed up. It was cold at Lords too, sitting in the bleak windswept stands: wonder I haven’t caught my death.
However, hey ho for Hull again at 4.45, so all things come to an end.
I don’t know that there’s much news. Our rooms here are very tiny but have television sets: we saw part of The Woodlanders on Friday night, and lots of cowboy films and so on. I wonder if you’d enjoy it! But you’ll have a good dose of it at Abbeyfield before too long, I expect.
What a hideous spell of weather! For the 3rd or 4th time, a dark drab morning, threatening rain. There are lots of Americans here. They eat toast and marmalade all through breakfast, along with egg & bacon & everything. One of them talked, too, like a machine left running by
accident.
Hope you got my loyal cards.2 TV showed us the Queen at Ascot, holding her own umbrella in pouring rain.
Keep warm & dry, old creature. Much love P
1 ‘irrecoverable’ doubly underlined.
2 He had sent two colour postcards showing the Queen.
31 July 1971
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
[…] I hope your feet are not troubling you as much. My neck is about the same. Awgh!
Portrait of creature with bad neck.
My froggy is sitting in the window looking at the park: he greatly enjoyed his jaunt to King’s Lynn with your froggy.1 What well-travelled froggies they are! How they enjoyed sitting in the lounge when we had our tea on the afternoon when we arrived! Will you take yours to Abbeyfield? I think you should, unless you mean to go back and visit him often. […]
I’ve started to work hard at the Library – don’t know how long it will last! Brenda went off yesterday on the first stage of a tour of Finnish libraries. She is due to go to Leningrad in the course of it. I could have gone, but as you know I don’t like abroad.
I suppose I’ll be coming home at the end of the week. When would suit you best? I don’t expect you’ll want to get many big meals. But I’ll ring up before long.
Philip Larkin Page 55