I hope you plan to come over here in 1988. I go to South Africa for 6 weeks to avoid the worst of the winter here & will be back on February 26th.
Very much love to you all from Woman
Darling Debo
Fancy you phoning about the telly,1 I never dreamed you’d look at it let alone react. THANK you. Can’t remember anything about it, years ago. Sorry about the old skirt, ought one to dress up for them, I suppose one ought.
County sounds a little bit happier, he’s back at the dungeon. Thyra2 persuaded him to go to church & he has for a year, ‘no result so far’ he says (like me he can’t ‘believe’, I only wish I could).
Well darling I shall telephone tomorrow though I don’t care for the way we all grow old as we who are left grow old.
Tonnes of love, Honks
How goes the book? I die for more bits.
P.S. Jim says Woo told them: ‘I never allow my daily to clean the bath because she wastes so much water. And another thing I strongly urge is, if you must run the hot water tap waiting for the water to get hot, always run it into a bucket or two, to be kept handy. Then you can take the buckets of tepid water downstairs & out into the vegetable garden, where it will always be welcome.’
‘How we laughed. Isn’t she a scream about money?’ (That’s Jim, but what I want to know is, why water? It’s as though she lived in Greece & dreaded the well giving out. She ees wondair. She was the last word in generosity in S. Africa wanting to pay more than her share.)
Darling Debo
I think the long & short of aidy is: not very pleasant for one but a relief for everyone else, so I’m delighted. I do know how wonderful you’ve all been shouting away for years. And I do remember how tiring it was being with Muv. But aidy is tiring too in its horrid little way & now I’ve got two whole days when I can leave it & its mate in their boxes & live in the delightful silent world that I love, when every prospect pleases as it does at this time of year.
I’ve been asked to be on telly for the Hitler centenary next year & refused. If I were an old spinster I would rush to voice my uniquely unpopular views but it’s not fair to my many descendants. Not that I would ever condone the crimes but I should have to describe the charm & the brilliant intelligence. So now nobody need worry. Perhaps it’s cowardly but I don’t think one has got any right to be ‘brave’ at other people’s expense.
All love, Honks
Darling Debo
Did you see a review in S. Times about Betj,1 it made me so cross I wrote, but much too late I’m afraid so not much point. It said he was vindictive, snobbish & disloyal. A more loyal friend never breathed, & as to vindictive I think it’s because of mild teases of the old Chetwodes,2 far less than they deserved. Betj was my friend from 1929, or even 1928, so it’s sixty years. Can’t remember which year he died. The review was vile so I imagine the book must be. What are we coming to, the world is upside down. The more wonderful you are the more you are attacked when you die seems to be the new rule.
Love darling, Honks
Hen-
Here’s one for Believe it or Not (I do believe it having found the teller of it to be fairly truthful & reliable over the years): Friends of ours, Sophy Bernal aged 25 (dau. of Martin1 & Judy who I think you’ve met) got married so I promised them a BOGGLE SET2-not to be had in this neighbourhood. Bob swore he’d find one. He was strolling past Hamley’s, thought of going in but it was v. crowded so he didn’t. Suddenly an OBJECT fell at his feet – a Boggle set. He looked up at the shop windows, three storeys of them, none were open & provenance of Bog. was unknowable. He picked it up – it is, by the way, dented on one corner which he claims is proof, though I doiter [doubt] a jury wld think so. A passer-by said ‘Why don’t you stay here, you cld do all yr Christmas shopping the same way’. Our acquaintance is divided about equally between believers & non-believers. What say you???
Darling Debo
Do you remember our three mallard drakes, one of whom had his foot hanging by a thread, & I told Jerry to wring his neck but he couldn’t catch him? Well, all was perfect, his good body mended it. I was quite fond of them because of their Chinese blue & green heads. About a month ago they disappeared & Jerry said ‘they’ll be back’. Back they are, & they’ve brought eleven friends, fourteen in all, both sexes. Horrors! This sort of nature note is more for Woo than for you. She sits on that stone seat for hours & has improbable tales of doings on the pond.
I got a classic from Woo about how they collected rubbish too weighty for the usual collection. Enormous list, ending up ‘ancient old metal feeding troughs, rusted and holy’.
Sorry no news but as a post strike is threatened I thought I’d better nip in.
Love darling, Honks
Hen
I’m starting on a new book, motivated largely I must confess by HUGE advance, more than 10 times what I’ve ever got before (which was max. about $35,000). $500,000 or half a million, said to be closer to $1 mill, with paperback. I suppose you get twice that for the Devonshire chutney sales, but to me it’s an amazing FORTUNE. Can’t wait to take YOU to the White Tower of blissful memory next time in London.
Book is the American Way of Birth. Point of it, the cruelty & avarice of drs. here – 25 per cent of all births are caesarean, for convenience & profit of drs. Counterpoint is growing vogue for home birth attended by midwives (who, I hasten to add, do shove the patient to hosp. at any sign of real trouble). So obviously mine’s pro-midwife – but oh Hen the awful drivel one has to choke down from that sisterly group. Titles like Spiritual Midwifery, and Hearts and Hands. These go into orbit describing the ineffable pleasure & glorious feeling of last stages of labour. Muv, asked by Nancy what it feels like, answered ‘like an orange being stuffed up yr nostril’ – more like it? Anyway, I’m madly at it.
Am off to Dink’s in Atlanta for the Southern way of birth; being a nurse, she’s utterly au fait of what happens when/why/under what circs. Back here 27 April.
Much love, Henderson
Darling Debo
The D.I. Disc1 research girl came, so nice. Just a try-out, I’ve asked if I might do it in Paris. If I must go to London I shall go by train. Every aeroplane now gets hours of delay & I hate that so much. Of course the D.I. Discs girl went on about the Mitford girls, ‘It must have been quite something when you were all together’. I pointed out that when you were three Naunce was eighteen. All such nonsense as though we were the same age. The difference between a grown up & a child, really. I also said the whole phenomenon was invented by the newspapers. Of course Birdie really was original to the last degree but the rest of us weren’t a bit.
I never thought I’d live to be eighty! Well perhaps I won’t.
All the Tories (the few I see or hear from) are saying Mrs Thatcher ought to go. She’s done a wonderful job etc but the time has come. I bet she won’t. It will be like old Winston over again, she’ll cling like a limpet.2
Love darling, Honks
Dearest Hen,
Copy eds. are mostly an awful bane although once in a very blue moon you get a good one. A friend of mine just sent me the following: She had written ‘By 1971, Consumer Affairs was one of the few city agencies in the black’. Copy ed: ‘This term has unfoertunate connotations’. (‘Unfoertunate’ was her spelling.)
Words in my book: You won’t be finding ‘birthing’ or ‘parenting’ or above all ‘bonding’, means mother must BOND with newborn if they are going to be fond of each other in later life. You’ve NO IDEA the amount of bosh one has to sort through. Oh dear.
Accdg to Mabel, you never bonded or were bonded: ‘His Lordship’s face was like thunder. I don’t think anyone looked at Miss Debo for the first three months, but she came up trumps in the end, didn’t she.’
Tup up, Henny
Love, Henderson
Dearest Hen
What have I been doing since our hop1- not writing to you is the answer. Sorry. Well … I WISH you’d been here. They (the flower lady, the caterer – Searcy’s of yest
er year do you remember the name? & the tent & lighting man) turned this place into fairyland. Can’t think how they did it, but it happened.
The courtyard was tented in for dancing & a vast tent covered the two flights of steps from the drawing room into the garden, more sprang up either side of the main one till you didn’t know where the house ended & the tents began. It was a major feat in itself because the ups & downs & measurements were so peculiar, all had to be specially made. Then the lining of the tents was black roof & little lights like stars, there were endless swags & garlands of box with lilies & a chandelier made of moss & lilies, all huge because of the ghoulish scale of this place. The main tent sticking out over the lawn was for dinner & breakfast & that had rocks (Paxton-like2 but I’m sorry to say made of plastic – what yr countrymen call feather rocks, do admit) foxgloves, white delphiniums & more lilies so the smell was o’erwhelming. The other tents were games, things like a dread machine called a bucking bronco, a ‘simulator’ which made you think you were on the Cresta Run, a crashing aeroplane & the like, NOT for the ancients. The Prince of Wales lent us an Arab tent, given him by one of those who are being a nuisance just now, & the inevitable disco. The outside flood lighting was done by a magician & the whole thing was a wave of wand type miracle.
It was agony re who to ask, we all had a list, William (grandson, whose 21st birthday it was for) had the lion’s share & the other five grandchildren had their friends, Em, Sto & Sophy a list each, & then some for us, so 1,000 people were asked. Dinner for 250 in the flowery tent, breakfast for all later. In the middle I consciously longed for everyone I like in the world to be there, just for the spectacle, it was extraordinary. Our drawing rooms were lined with lilies, nothing else in the flower line.
Amazingly, the grandchildren said white tie or black tie & heaps of the young people did white tie. I thought it had gone out with the flood & only happened at v. old fashioned civic & City things, wrong as usual, it’s creeping back. Too odd.
We were promised that people would be drunk, sick, drugged, thieves & that our beds would have piles of humans in them. Not at all, the behaviour all night, till 7.30 A.M. when it finally stopped, was impeccable. Why? I wish I knew. The women wore everything that shone. Those amazing jewels, which come out every 10 years or so & look so cheerful, amazed the Frogs present who don’t seem to have anything of that kind. I wore that big crown of a tiara & felt like Mrs Toad of Toad Hall. Only about 10 bathing-gown dresses on the v. young, the sort that JUST cover the telling bits of body & show vast thighs, as if anyone wants to see them. They made a big effort, most of them, & wore long dresses.
We had buses coming from London with dinner on & the hotels round here were bunged to the gills & the stoodents’ rooms in Sheffield University too. All very jolly. I think William loved it. He is v. nice indeed, his hair is Strewwelpeter style, or a tiny bit shorter, dead straight straw-coloured stuff but clean. I’ll send some snaps when we’ve sorted them, to give the flavour. Bother you not being there, & Dink & Benj.
Lots of old folk, Billa Harrod, Coote Lygon; Paddy [Leigh Fermor] faithfully came from Greece; the only gate crasher was one Jerry Hall,3 a nice Texan whom I was pleased to see because she is a sort of beautiful, goat-like, tall creature.
The fireworks were over the canal & were made miraculous by Beethoven’s 5th symphony belted out as loud as you can belt music in the open air in time to the rockets. Quite extraordinary. Made you cry. I can say it was all wonderful because I had nothing whatever to do with it, Searcy’s thought of & arranged the lot, we just weakly said yes to all their ideas.
The day before we had 2,400 people to a sort of evening garden party, FREEZING cold, but no one seemed to notice. And the day after was a huge charity day when all the things A & I have been to do with for 40 years had stalls in the tents. So it was a three-day-event. So sad to see the fairyland dismantled. All signs gone now.
Much love, Yr Hen
Darling Honks
Isn’t it odd, re N’s letter about Sir O, Farve & Ld Moyne,1 that she & Decca were (& are) equally economical with truth or whatever the expression for malicious imaginings is. She liked to think he had knuckle-dusters & there they were.
Equally odd that Muv & Farve, the 2 most honest people ever born, could have produced 2 such fancifiers.
N & D as good as believe what they say, I think. Anyway it’s what they decided to believe, even if in the very depths they know it’s not true, a monster lie in fact. Very odd indeed. Of course it’s also done to impress.
I’ve only done 2,000 (very poor) words of the 10,000 I’m supposed to have finished by the end of this month for the intro to the Constable picture book of THINGS from here.2 Oh Honks & the last 10 days of this month is wireless etc for my rotten Farm Animals book.
So I must get back to grindstone.
Much love, Debo
Darling Woo
Just this second heard the exciting news about your operation. I know it’s terrifying & you are wonderful with your courage & bravery, but one hears such amazing stories about knées now. Last night I dined with Margaret Hudson1 & she asked about you & when I told her of the lameness she said she had a friend who has had both knées done & he is completely a new person. I was going to write & tell you this when Debo telephoned. Oh how I hope & pray that it will go well! And like with my operation, it’s so lovely that you’ve got Chatsworth to go to & get strong again. Chatsworth cured me as nothing else could have done, the pure air & the kindness of everyone, and above all Debo.
All love Woo, Nard
Darling Debo
Such a bumper post from you today including your small grumble which has made me feel I might inflict some of my (compared I mean) miniature grumbles which last week loomed so large I got nearly ill with them. One was a letter from Naunce to you saying I didn’t love Birdie but was just jealous of her.1 Knowing Naunce I do see it’s mad to mind, & I don’t, for example, her hates against Kit plus extravagant lies, because I expect she’d have loved to plant a dart in him & never had the pleasure of that, because she knew the riposte would be painful as he was much cleverer than she & if he was attacked in private life even wouldn’t hesitate with a riposte. All the same, my feelings & love & sympathy for Bobo were probably one of the things in my life about which (I thought) there could never be any question. We loved each other & there was never any hint of jealousy though I often wished (before the bullet) she could marry & have children as she so loved children. Anyway I’ve put N’s wild lie behind me now & simply won’t allow my life to be ruined (what’s left of it) by her absurdities and cruelties. She had a thin time, & hoped everyone else did too.
The other grumbles are hardly worth telling: 4 b & b letters including snaps so that one’s got to write back. The ceiling of your room here pouring with leaks & the plumber coming & simply making it WORSE; none of my beans bothering to germinate, Jerry thinks it’s the cold but after all they’re hardly orchids; painful twinges in a knée so that I could hardly get in the bath (this has completely disappeared oh how inter-esting).
We’ve got a woman P.M.2 Jerry says in the shops the men are all outraged. I think France is very sexist, is that the right word. In fact the President is dictator & it doesn’t matter who is P.M. so all great nonsense.
Love darling, Honks
Darling Honks
N’s letters. Nothing more revealing. The one you mention is her sad character, always wanting to be what she wasn’t, like lots of people I suppose. An unhappy nature plus a lot of real unhappiness, much of it self-inflicted via the unhappy nature, I reckon. Isn’t it strange to think how 99 out a 100 probably envied her, v. pretty, an immensely successful writer, wonderful clothes, flat in Paris, beautiful unchanging figure – what more could you ask. Yet very few things went right, only the books I suppose & that is hollow compared to the real stuff.
What I find hard to stomach is the double facery. And when I look back on the extreme difficulty you had in the almost daily drive to Versailles with S
ir O not too keen & so on & on. Very wearing it was. I suppose she had no idea.
You being jealous of Birdie is THE strangest notion yet. I wonder what else is to come.
Woman. She’s being so good. I will be able to take her to the hosp. perhaps with Ce,1 perhaps without. She has to be there at midday on 6th. Rather long, all that P.M. & all the next day to wait.
Much love, Debo
Dearest Hen
So glad to get yr letter of 19 July to say Bob had come out of the op OK.1 DO ENLARGE on how he is now?
Hen, something lovely. I was in the garden talking to a friend (too loud I expect, in what Ann Fleming used to call Confident Upper Class Accent) when a man stopped me & said ‘I’ve read about a 1930s voice but I’ve never heard one, do go on talking’. So go on I did & trotted out the things that make my grandchildren scream like lost & gone2 forever. He was doubled up, so was I of course. In the end he said ‘well I’ll say this for you, you haven’t got a stiff upper lip’. Do admit.
This is interim, haste as always. I’m meant to do a piece for the Independent about a villain (they’ve had too many heroes). Can’t think of one. Do help.
Love to Bob and DO WRITE re progress. I suppose Dink has gorn – not lost & gorn forever I hope.
Much love, Yr Hen
Darling Woman,
Thanks for excellent report of 31 July – I see that both you & Bob have done wonders. His op. was 3 weeks ago (17 July) and he’s now not only totally up & about but drives to his office every day, plus does all the shopping & cooking.
The Mitfords Page 69