I enjoyed coming to see you, and [was] relieved to find you not too bad, but I didn’t like leaving you all alone, and don’t think it is a good thing. I shall ring up Walter tonight for news: to see if any step was taken regarding a visiting nurse. If she were the right person it might be a very good thing. Anyway, do keep yourself warm and don’t try to do anything strenuous. Remember ’flu is very debilitating and depressing. Just keep snug in your bedroom (not necessarily bed) until you feel better –
MUCH LOVE Philip
25 January 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I’m very sorry to hear that you fell over in the kitchen on Monday and hurt your leg.1 I hoped you were getting on well & were on the road to recovery – perhaps you were being too bold. I’m sure it was a nasty shock and will have left a bruise. What a worry! I shan’t rest till I hear you are feeling better. I think it’s quite a good idea to move when you can, but don’t go rampaging over the house in the cold. Just potter about the warm bedroom in your dressing gown, or sit with the rug over you.
I haven’t much news. The car is in for a few days being repaired after its slight accident before Christmas, and I am having to walk to work and back – at least, I don’t have to, but the buses seem few and far between. I suppose it’s a mile & a bit, but a dull walk really. The poem I am trying to write for a government report, of all things, is sticking and isn’t very good anyway.2 Tonight I had an omelette & some curious tinned vegetable-mixture of tomatoes & peppers & little cucumbers. I hope you are still managing to eat!
With much love, from a worried Creature.
1 The fall, which broke Eva’s leg, occurred on Monday 24 January.
2 ‘Going, Going’, commissioned by a government working party on ‘The Human Habitat’.
27 January 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I was sorry to learn that you had hurt yourself more seriously than was thought at first, and that they have/ taken you off to Leicester1 – though I’m sure that if this is the case then a hospital is the best place. Kitty says it seemed a nice hospital and that the nurses were kind. I think when one is actually there one feels a certain lightness of heart, as if one was no longer responsible for things – let them get on with it! Daddy used to say that everyone ought to go to hospital, once.
I shall be coming to see you on Saturday & Sunday, all being well, but I ring up Kitty at night to hear what news there is. In the meantime it’s a horrible wet & windy day, & you are probably better where you are. My neck feels a bit better, not that that is any comfort to you! Our wretched students are ‘sitting-in’ – I hope they don’t come near the Library.
Much, much love,
Philip
1 The letter is addressed to Fielding Johnson Ward, Leicester Royal Infirmary. For Eva’s last lettercard from 21 York Road (26 January) see Appendix.
27 January 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
This is my usual letter for Saturday – I wrote you a note this morning,1 wch I hope you’ll get on Friday. I talked to Kitty on the telephone, & she said they had visited you: I hope to see you myself on the day you get this. What a trying time you are having! I do feel sorry for you: I know from experience that hospitals aren’t very cheerful places, but there is some wry humour to be found in observing the people – types one wd never see otherwise, I expect. I know I saw some extraordinary old men in Hull hospital who cheered me up in a way.
It’s been a really horrible day, wet and windy, and at least you are out of it from that point of view. I had to entertain some visitors from Sheffield who came to see the Library, but I am so deaf, it’s really awful. Even with my hearing aid I can’t catch half what they say. I’m sure it’s getting worse.
I have written to Eva2 tonight to tell them that you’ve had a little accident, so I hope you’ll get a letter. It’s a change to tell them about illness! Didn’t Auntie Nellie hurt herself in this way once? I hope they haven’t gone off to Anglesey to their new home.
Poor creature, I feel so sorry for you, but you mustn’t worry, just concentrate on getting well. Lie quiet and have the rest you must need. I’m sure they’ll take good care of you. Do you remember our week at King’s Lynn? What a sunny week it was! We both took our froggies, & they sat up for tea on the first afternoon in the lounge. I often think of it, and smile at the meals we had – do you remember how uneatable the chops were one night, but when the chef asked you if you’d enjoyed your dinner you said yes! Craven old creature!
I don’t suppose you can sit up and read yet. Can you listen to the wireless through headphones? I expect it’s all rubbishy stuff. Is there any television to be seen?
Well, I expect I shall see you soon after you read this, so I’ll finish, but with all my love, dear creature,3
from Philip
1 Addressed to Fielding Johnson Ward, Leicester Royal Infirmary. See previous letter.
2 Nellie’s daughter.
3 The envelope is addressed but not stamped. Perhaps Larkin failed to finish it in time to catch the post; he may have taken it with him and delivered it in person.
31 January 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I expect you are finding the days rather muddling. Monica & I came to see you in hospital on Sunday/ (getting muddled myself now!). I am writing this on Monday night after getting back to Hull, and you will be reading it on Wednesday (I hope), in a new place, the Berrystead Home. Kitty & I spent the best part of two hours there this morning looking at the rooms and talking to the Director, and thought you wd be more comfortable there, & that it wd be quieter & the nurses might be more considerate. As you have got to rest & get well, we thought you might as well do it in comfort. I hope it is comfortable. When you begin to perk up & the weather gets warmer, you’ll see what a nice place it is. It’s at Syston, outside Leicester on the Loughborough side.1
Oh, isn’t it cold! For the first time for years I am wearing long pants. I drove back very slowly tonight, for fear of frosty roads. I left 21 York Road quite all right – Mrs Holmes (Sheila) will come in once a week to keep it in shape.
My neck is a little better – still hurts slightly, but not as much as it did.
There was a nice letter from Eva2 when I got in – she says she has sent you a card. I hope it reaches you.
I hope you are in a softer bed now, and feel more in tune with your surroundings.
Much love old creature from your loving son Philip.
1 Eva was moved on 1 February 1972 into Berrystead Nursing Home, 1001 Melton Road, Syston, Leicestershire. It is here that her son’s letters were sent for the remainder of her life: nearly six years.
2 Nellie’s daughter.
1 February 1972
GPO Greetings Telegram
Hull
HOPE YOU ARE SAFELY INSTALLED AT BERRYSTEAD AND WILL BE WARM AND COMFORTABLE MUCH LOVE
PHILLIP [sic]
6 February 1972
21 York Road, Loughborough
My very dear old creature,
I’ve had my breakfast & washed up and put things straight, and thought I would write a note to you to get on Monday, even though I shall be seeing you this afternoon. On The Archers Tom Forest said that the trees were already starting to bud and spring is on the way! I can’t say I see many signs of it myself. But of course it will come.
I have also rung up Mrs Stubbs and she sends her love. The Circle1 will be meeting tomorrow (the day you read this) and they will all be thinking of you.
Monica gave me some roast lamb wch was very nice. You would have thought it rather underdone, but it will keep life in.
I do sympathise with you at present, dear old creature: days must be very long. But you are getting better slowly. One can’t hurry nature. Just be patient.
Very much love,
1 The Circle
of Silent Ministry.
7 February 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I returned home safely to Hull on Sunday night, though it was after midnight before I got in. A long drive! and I didn’t go very fast.
I hope the weather is a bit brighter now than when I visited you – it is here, the sun shining and the weather quite mild. What a pity you can’t see more of it! I’m afraid you will have to stay in bed until the x ray shows that the bone has healed satisfactorily: that will be at the beginning of March. Then you will have to learn to walk again, so make the most of your present rest.
I should try to cut your nails – I’ve asked Kitty to bring nail scissors.
I’m a little lighter still this morning – perhaps 13 st. 10 lbs! I shall vanish soon.
Much love,
Philip
10 February 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I hope you are not getting any power cuts. The miners are on strike, and this is threatening the power stations – it would be tedious to lie in the dark. We haven’t had any yet, but I expect we shall. Lucky it isn’t too cold at the moment.
Is the Home seeming any more like home? The thought of breakfast at 6 a.m. is very depressing: I wonder why they have to have it so early. Still, it is nice to have the longer days coming – I expect it will be light by 6 soon, even if it isn’t now.
Mrs Oates hasn’t come this week: I hope she isn’t going to let me down. She does drive herself very hard.
All being well, I’ll see you on Saturday afternoon, and we can have a chat.
Much love,
Philip
16 February 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I hope you are still snug in your room, as it [is] certainly very bleak to be up and out. I have got out my very thickest wool underwear (including long pants) to counter it, and so look rather fatter than I have done recently.
So far I haven’t suffered much from power cuts. The most inconvenient time is 8–midnight. It just ruins the evening: there’s nothing to do but listen to a battery radio. Of course the gas fire keeps me warm.
Today is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, isn’t it? I don’t suppose you have had any pancakes. I didn’t. Do you remember how you used to make them at Coventry?
My meals are drastically simple now – I have eggs one night, bacon the next. Of course, when I stop ‘reducing’ I can be more indulgent.
Much love.
Philip
23 February 1972
Picture postcard1
Hull
Would you like a picture for a change? This is rather a funny one. The grey skies and powercuts continue here as I expect they do with you. Have just found out that Arnold Bennett wrote to his mother every day! Betty has ordered a new car, having been told that her present one is about to collapse. She asks after you regularly.
Much love,
Philip
1 The Lady of the Manor, a stylised painting by Eden Box (1919–88) depicting a lady in a hat in a horsedrawn carriage with chestnut trees in flower around her, a country house in the distance and a children’s picnic (with dog) in the foreground. ‘Private Collection, London.’
24 April 1972
Dear Kitty,1
I had a talk with my Lloyds man on the telephone this morning, & he said that while both groups of shares were all right he thought the second set (Industrial shares) had the edge insofar as if we bought from the first set we should be buying ‘above par’ & so if Mother lives until their redemption dates we shouldn’t get back what we paid for them. This is Greek to me, but no doubt true. Any of the second set he thought all right, so should we go for those? He favoured Barclays, but I always like brewery shares. Presumably to invest in more than one increases ‘charges’, but perhaps this isn’t significant: to do so spreads one’s risks. It seems that any or all of the second set would do.
I found Mother rather less cheerful than on Saturday, but you will have seen her by now. She seemed cold – I do think she should wear more – and not very enthusiastic about the food. She confirmed the no-egg-for-breakfast story. She said she weighed 6 stone, wch doesn’t seem much. I wish all aspects of the place were as pleasant as the building, etc! She walked along the passage with me when I left.
May I make clear my reasons for not wanting to pay the gas bill?2 I think whereas there are charges wch definitely are my responsibility (e.g. telephone calls as distinct from t. rent), and charges wch definitely aren’t (e.g. the garden), the middle area of charges (e.g. the cost of my being there at all) could be regarded as Mother’s responsibility, since it is largely in her interest that I’m there, but not to be too scrupulous, might as well be split, me paying petrol & bringing her things like stamps and papers, & she paying house charges such as gas & electricity. You may say, & I quite agree, that it would be best for her not to spend money, but this seems a different argument to me, implying that we should divide the charges between us, as ultimately (as her heirs) we shall divide the money so saved. If I pay £100 to save Mother’s £100, & this £100 is then divided between us by her will, I am £50 out of pocket. This is a great fuss about a 30/- gas bill, but the principle may become important, if mother’s expenditure exceeds her income, as it well may.
I am fatter after the weekend wch I ascribe to your excellent roast pork. Very nice lunch, & thank you. Don’t have too many late nights, or early mornings.
Much love,
Philip
1 Apart from the formal letter to Kitty and Walter which Philip copied to Eva on 20 April 1969 this is the first letter from Philip to Kitty to survive since that congratulating her on the birth of Rosemary in 1947. This letter is preserved, along with nine further letters and two picture postcards sent between 1972 and 1982, in U DLN/3/8, a file mainly devoted to formal correspondence concerned with Eva’s stay in Berrystead and the sale of 21 York Road in 1978. Intriguingly the file also contains the 1947 letter to Kitty.
2 These calculations relate to 21 York Road, where Philip stayed when he visited his mother in Berrystead.
10 May 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My dear Kitty,
I thought you had better see this exchange before going on Friday.1
Stomatitis is simply ‘diseases of the mouth’, & a lot of these, according to Black’s Medical Dictionary, are caused by, or symptomatic of, ‘grave constitutional weakness’. Such weakness will only be aggravated by underfeeding. Hence my enquiry about special food, wch Bird studiously ignores. Tests won’t feed her.
I am not answering this letter, at least for the moment, but I have written to Wynn-Williams2 asking if I could see him this weekend. I do want to make sure that all is being done that can be done. This seems to me the plain duty of near relatives, let these sharks say what they will. No offence meant.
I’ll ring on Friday at 9.30. as planned.
Much love,
Philip
1 Larkin enclosed a typed letter to Stanley Bird, the manager of the home, in which he asked that Eva be ‘put on a diet designed to meet her problems’. ‘Nourishing, easily assimilable foods such as milk puddings, egg custards and so on suggest themselves, but you will know what is appropriate better than I.’ Bird replied that the doctor had recommended tests, of which ‘the results should be known in 7 to 10 days’.
2 Eva’s doctor at this time.
11 May 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull
My very dear old creature,
I often wonder when you get my letters – whether you are up and dressed and having your morning coffee, or whether you are still in bed & waiting to be ‘got up’. It must be nice to lie watching the birds and the sun on the trees, now that they are so beautiful. I remember Mr Bird telling me that he had the dressing tables made specially low so that people in
bed could see out of the windows.
When I come to see you on Saturday I have to go out to dinner in the evening to some friend of Monica – dinner jacket required!! Isn’t that a curse! I shall have to bring it all this way, & change somewhere. Perhaps I could wear it when I come to see you!
Don’t be afraid!
I’ve been reading the letters of Llewelyn Powys again – one of Daddy’s books, though my name seems to be in it. He had a very ill life, yet thought it was worth it as long as you could see the sun and feel the air.
Much dear love, Philip.
6 June 1972
32 Pearson Park, Hull1
My very dear old creature,
I am a rather fatter creature after Oxford – up to 13 st. again. I certainly didn’t refuse anything, such as good thick soups, sausages for breakfast, even a pint of beer! That means I have had 3 pints THIS YEAR. Of course I drink other things.
Here is Little Women: I do hope you enjoy it. I have put your name in.
I feel very harassed these days, too many things to do and too many annoyances! Mrs Oates returns today – she was away last week – and will find plenty to occupy her.
I was so pleased to have letters from you this morning – I quite thought you had ‘hung up your pen’, or whatever the appropriate phrase would be. I wish you could join in with the others more – you need company. Dr Johnson said ‘If you are idle, be not solitary: if you are solitary, be not idle.’
Must rush – much love – P
1 At the top of the first page opposite the address Eva has written ‘P.S. I don’t know whether this is the right sheet to write on next. / Have got all muddled up owing to the weather (sorry dear Creature.)’ In a letter dated ‘2nd (a guess) June’ she had written: ‘O dear, forgive this awful letter – but this morning I was asked by Mr Bird to go downstairs and see how I thought I should like to be there permanent this. [sic] I won’t try to write another copy. Anyway, apart from being with a lot of elderly ladies, and having Mrs Carter sitting next to me, there weren’t many people there. I expect a lot of them were out, perhaps, shopping. I suppose I should get used to writing letters in a crowd of people, in time.’
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