Dearest Tina, so many thanks for lovely Easter visit – Mary said on the way back in the train that she realised she’d overdone things with the envelopes and this holiday had made all the difference and I’m sure it has, and you know what it means to me to see you all, and I think it’s gallant in the extreme of you and Terry to manage outings and expeditions to the beach as well as even more than the usual list of other things to do – but I think this has got beyond the stage of lists.
I hope dear Luke will change his mind about being tired of the human race, as he told me on the beach, or at least he’ll kindly make a few exceptions.
I have been brushing my best black coat with a damp brush, and it looks all right, but then the hairs come back again, they appear to be growing out of the coat while my back is turned – (now hanging in the lower basement while some fanciful alterations are going on)
much love to all from Ma
[postcard of Paul Klee image]
[1988]
Dearest Tina – I’m sending you this although it’s been up on the wall, because I thought you might like it – do you remember your knobblyhead?
I was so happy at Watchet, and loved the Vikings even in the adverse weather conditions. Thankyou for listening to my probably imaginary and certainly small and dull difficulties (I could feel how dull they were even while I was describing them) while you were at such a point of exhaustion and hateful headache and I can’t tell whether it’s gone away even now but I do hope and pray so, as it looked only just about bearable. Note that I’m not giving advice or talking about Nurofen or feverfew.
I got the train with 2 minutes to spare – wonderful, just like Round the World in 80 days – a train too grand to stop at Newbury, though they always do at Westbury, perhaps because there are so many Nobs there. The castors on my bed work very well – without them I know I should never have dusted behind it and perhaps I shan’t now – but I know I could. Joan asks to know why I left my ironing-board behind? When it’s hers and I only left it after a severe struggle of conscience. Too late now!
All my love to all the family and best wishes for
[incomplete]
29 November [1988]
– distraught –
Dearest Tina – Just off to dreaded all-day Commonwealth Fiction judging, followed by Kipper* exhibition (manias), still feel dreadful, but Ria much better and Sophie singing and chirruping. I’m in a terrible state because I wanted to ask you whether the weekend of 8 Dec would be any good, as there are various things (not important) I shd. be doing on 16th and 17th, but if Luke has part in play it’s different and MY TELEPHONE HAS GONE DEAD.
Sad because Francis** has had horrid operation and can’t get over David dying. much love Ma
27 Bishop’s Road, N6
Tuesday [August 1989]
Dearest Tina,
I could hardly believe that you’d taken the time to write me a letter and such a nice long one. I loved hearing about the house – I still have your letters describing Milène’s family, and Uncle Georges in the cellars, and this one is even better. I’m so glad you went to Brittany as the weather is so wonderful you’ve got every possible advantage, and a proper garden and fruit and grass instead of a square of paving and 2 geraniums in pots and an unclimbable carob tree. I, too, wondered if P.* might be thrown out, and am so glad he isn’t, I can imagine him climbing and singing and Jemima running – how she ran on the beach at St Audries – and Luke, I can see, quite invaluable, bless him, fancy producing his French at 2 o’clock in the morning. No-one will ever have grandchildren like mine, you know.
It is lovely here having all my meals in the garden if only it wasn’t for these dreary reviews and this pesky novel, but I must try and finish it now, I daresay Collins (soon to move to Hammersmith as part of Murdoch’s economies) would let me put it off but I can’t bear it dragging on, though I feel myself getting stupider all the time. I felt quite grand flying to Edinburgh** and eating the executive breakfast – orange juice, fruit salad, bacon and egg and hash-brown potatoes, roll butter and marmalade and a bran and raisin scone. Presumably to prevent constipation. Hermione Lee was very kind, although she clearly thinks I am hopeless about feminism, and says this is the generation gap – and Marina Warner not bad, she admits I taught her at the Westminster Tutors but says I made up her mind for her to give up her faith and she went straight to Westm: Cath. to make her last confession – I’m sure I didn’t. B.P. (patrons) gave us all a vast lunch at some hotel. The festival was in gaily striped tents and marquees which took up the whole of Charlotte Sq. – and Edinburgh did look nice in the sun and wind because they’ve had rain up there. I made the P.R. girl come on a bus trip round the city afterwards so we had to get quite a late flight. And now all the shuttle services are on strike because one of the hostesses has been accused of selling the free executive champagne to the tourist-class, of course they do! – Thursday I go down to the BBC to start these recordings but I don’t have to interview Anne Thwaite till next week.
All this must sound more than dull when you are on the plage (do you remember the dear old French O-level papers with pictures?). Meanwhile I want to wish you a happy homecoming but won’t send you a YOUR NEW HOME card as the bungalow isn’t exactly that, but 10000 welcomes back, all my love to all of you –
xxxxx Ma.
You’re quite right about Sarah. You always make nice friends – the wild craftswoman-hairdresser at Weston was nice – but Sarah was someone in particular, and my word how she’ll miss you. I wonder what will happen to the Methodist Hall playgroup? But new times now and new places.
Mary had an X-ray because of her constipation but as far as I can make out there is nothing to worry about. Must keep her off diets. There’s a new one, Bio-lite, which you take for a week and feel much lighter, – it’s been shown to consist of 95 per cent tapwater.
[postcard: Millais’ ‘The Boyhood of Raleigh’]
9 November [1989]
Thought Lukey might like this, though Raleigh of course inferior to Drake. Went yesterday to help unveil plaque to Burne-Jones on grim flats built on site of his gracious home. Fish-paste sandwiches and white wine in local library, where mayor asks us to drink toast to Pre-Raphaelites remembering that they were all good socialists. Kind lady gets me cup of tea, but John Christian sportingly drinks toast. Off to Kirkby L. tomorrow, back Tuesday, Wednesday Iris arrives in London. Longing to see you all but M. tells me you’ve started teaching again, how can you manage and what would you like for Xmas
will ring all my love Ma
27a Bishop’s Road
London, N6
Sunday [1990]
Dearest Tina,
I was so cheered up when you rang, but felt furious with myself afterwards because (as always) I kept talking about all these unimportant problems of mine which aren’t really even problems, as they will solve themselves – but I didn’t like to ring back – however I really wanted to know about Kelly, and about your classes, and Luke’s (not Lukey’s, he was quite definite about that) school – as you left it, you were saying to me that it was most certainly something to remember all his life – a playground with the moors stretching away to the horizon in every direction – and he was getting on fine, but