Poor old X; I am sorry that she is so unable to do things for herself, which she must hate. As for sitting round in a big room with everyone else, while the radio plays bright music, I can just imagine it, as we went to see an old lady in a home near here a year or two ago, who had to spend all her time doing just that. Ghastly, and as you say, it was a great mercy that Y did not have to suffer it, or Aunt Z either.
We had a pretty dreadful evening on Saturday when we were asked to go and play bridge with two of the more elderly bridge club members in one of the ‘rest homes’ in the village. To begin with, when we got there we were shown into a little lounge with a bridge table, two chairs, and two two-seater sofas. We managed to arrange those, but it wasn’t a good idea. I had one of the sofas and could barely see over the table. One of the OL [?=old ladies] had all my spare cushions under her, which gave her a commanding position, but a considerable instability. She was obviously going to slide at any moment to the floor. However there were two more chairs in the garden outside the window, and they were quite dry, so we solved that problem. That only left her habit of chattering the whole time. It didn’t seem to affect her play, which is very good, but it ruined my already feeble memory of what had been played. Add to that, that the other OL is well known as an awkward cuss, who can turn a remark into an insult as soon as look at it; eventually after about an hour’s play my partner said to her, ‘I wish you would stop accusing me of cheating!’ I don’t think she realised that that was what her conversation had been sounding like. I hope we shan’t be asked again – and on the whole it seems unlikely.
THank you for The birtHbay PreSEht. I got a gLibEr to Make, a FiLm for my view-MaSter and Mr. Snow: A book. THey Are ALL LoveLy.
Thank you for the nice Mr. Bouncy. I like Bouncing on Him. one of my top teeth Hasz come out. and I Have another woBly one. I wish you a happy Christmas. Love form …
Thank-you very much for the weights fishing scissors and strap for my goggles I went snorkeling at the sea today and had lots of fun the weights will be useful for fishing here because I will be doing quite alot of warf fishing and the weight will sink my hooks to the bottom and the scissors will be useful to cut my line instead of having to bit it of. I got lots of other lovely things for my birthday like a chain a bow and arrow two Peter Devlin books a revolving earoplane and lots lots more. [Does the revolving earoplane clean wax out?!]
I do greatly appreciate the weekly Guardian: I won’t say I read every word – for some reason the extracts from Le Monde attract me less than the rest – perhaps I have a deep prejudice against the rationality of the French or something. But the English and American bits contain so much good writing that it’s a joy apart from safeguarding us from insularity! Not to mention the crossword and the bridge articles which weekly confound us with the brilliance of other people’s memories and powers of deduction.
thank-you for the crystal garden it looks most interesting. Sorry I am writing so late but I had to go to camp. At camp Mr X our teaCher fell out of his canoe twice. I was able to do archery and canoeing. I got a lot of nice things for my birthday I got a army tank for my action man. Hope you are well.? Last night we got our new table with the money that Y left it is an oak table. I am in std four this year
Thun you for the whoonsy thinG and I will wear my jersey at school.
The magnifying glass and book ware interesting. I injoyde looking at it. and thank you vrey much. We are going to a ci5rcus in three weekes I am looking forwards to seeing the trapeze. christmas day was fun
Thank you very much for ‘Nobody Nowhere’ which sounds an interesting book to get stuck into, and for the nice photo and your card. … We have just had the morning post, which included a small square parcel for me, which proved to be a piece of Turkish Delight, rather squashed and not really my favourite thing anyway – sent me by X for my birthday. So that is another letter to write before lunch, besides the one I planned for Y.
Did I tell you X’s remark when Y went on looking for a good place to picnic for rather a long time? ‘This road is just like God, it goes on and on.’
We were challenged to croquet within half an hour of arrival on a very ‘sporting’ course. About my third turn I aimed at his ball, missed and went into the border. ‘You twit,’ said he in exactly the tone he would have used if addressing his brother. I said, ‘I question whether that is an appropriate way to address a great-uncle, even though I agree with your opinion.’ (You can talk to him like that if you want to; he has a remarkable vocabulary and turn of phrase for his age.) ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘I do apologise’ as it might be someone who has trodden on your toe in the underground by mistake.
I hope the kids don’t remember Christmas, by their comments! X at 8 p.m., ‘I hope I get more presents next year. A bike’s not much’, and Y on opening the wheels and axles I got him to make a go-cart,’ Thank you daddy, did you get these at the dump? Little buggers!
‘Mummy can I have some soil to make goblins for my dolls’ picnic. You know – like the ones daddy made?’ Shades of cannibalism? Not a bit … after much deciphering we worked out that the key words were foil and goblets.
I felt quite flattened after 9 days of dear little X and Y and her American friend for 5 of them. X is really delicious but totally time-consuming – so good and very intelligent tho’ he only has a few words. I think he enjoyed being king of the castle for once and not having to fight his brother for everything. I took him to the family service one Sunday. For half the time he sat in angelic silence but once he felt at home he walked up and down the pew and took a great liking to one of the young fathers who he clutched affectionately round the neck.
We had the family to lunch yesterday which was a trifle exhausting, though taken one by one they are all delightful small boys. I can’t think how she survives them all the time. Three Labrador puppies would be easier to cope with.
We went down to the X’s of course for lunch, passing at least 2 parks in which fathers were sitting with hordes of screaming children round them.
I’d be ashamed to leave the house: the children have wrecked their walls – I don’t remember you all being so destructive – apart from X who drew on all the hall walls when we were at Y, and X had to repaint them. (It was she who scratched her new wallpaper – aged 13 or 14 too – as I reminded her when her oldest tore a strip off his new wallpaper in the first week!) However perhaps I’ve given you all awful inhibitions with fierceness.
X is bumptious, rude, too clever by half and rather adorable!
X was trying to work a little helicopter thing his grandfather gave him (you know those things you pull a string and they take off). He wasn’t being very successful so GF decided to show him how, only to have the thing sail over the house, accompanied by X’s bitter comment ‘Now you’ve done it’! Luckily it landed the other side.
I told you about X’s black eye and the dr’s comment of being a ‘bloody stupid thing to do’ and her rejoinder that ‘very’ would do – and anyway it wasn’t bleeding!
I had X for the inside or a week, and he very earnestly told us at lunch one day that he thought Mummy was going to get a new baby soon, ‘I think she’s going to buy it at a shop’, I suppose it’s because he’s the youngest he doesn’t know better, the other two are very up in the subject!
She’s still as embarrassingly loving as ever, she attacked the vicar when he came to see me about something t’other day. I’m WAITING for her to grow out out of it – I can’t think of any way to stop her without giving her hang-ups. She’s also taken to having some terrific paddies, every toy was thrown out of the dolls’ cot the other day, the smack helped me but had absolutely no effect on her. However after about 10 minutes screaming, she came out of her room, pleasant as ever, gave me a big hug and said sorry for the noise and carried on as though nothing had happened.
Yes, I do feel X is around – specially some days when I need a bit of help, and send up a cry – it always seems to work, but I feel a bit mean asking for him to RIP one minute and then calling him back! I do keep reminding myself to tell X that and even look across the room to his chair to remark on something.
Isn’t it sad: the old dear who had the Gallery in her house at X has died of a stroke – lovely for her to have had the pleasure of its success tho.
I heard from X that she has taken her sister-in-law’s death very badly – rather surprisingly, as she always disliked her – but evidently she hadn’t reckoned on outliving anyone – she’s been so ill for so long. It’s incredible she had her first cancer op. some 40 years ago – Poor dear, evidently she has this ??decalcifying business with her spine now and is v. bent.
Thank you for your letter, the day you heard of X’s death. Poor Y will feel very lost I expect, even though she wasn’t the world’s best and busiest about the house, from what I ever saw.
Dear X managed to escape her problems last week, and the funeral was on Friday, with the church nearly full of people.
My neighbour with her husband with awful effects from a stroke – must be 5 years ago now – remarked how much I got out and I felt quite guilty but I remember you telling me not to keep refusing invitations or people would stop asking me.
There were two funerals – yesterday was X who was wife of our former Archdeacon, now retired, most notable for her laugh which was capable of felling pine trees, or turning over double decker buses. She was 93. She used say recently, if you asked after her health, ‘Dying slowly’. She was a very loud lady indeed, but a heart of gold and undoubtedly did a great deal of good to judge at least by her funeral which must have had about five hundred people at it, and lasted an hour and three quarters. She had three parsons taking the service, and three eulogies.
Felling pine trees
I was able to explain to him the changes in our Wills which we made recently, and tell him about the arrangement we have made with the local undertaker, whereby we have paid in advance for whichever of us dies first, including money to buy you a return ticket to come out for the funeral, assuming you would like to, and can organise it. Not that we either of us have any reason to suppose we are about to decline in health, but we feel it is desirable to have arrangements in place at our age.
Sad news first, I had a cable saying X died on Wednesday 29th. I’m glad for her but it’s a wrench thinking I’m the only one of my family left, no one to say ‘do you remember’ to.
We went to her funeral yesterday morning. That was almost entirely non-religious, though there was a prayer said at the beginning by one of the family, after which it was just a series of people reminiscing about her for about half an hour, after which they carried out the coffin to an Irish jig on a fiddle. Singularly unfitting I thought, and rather depressing without any commendation or anything to round it off.
The garden at X (of happy memory) sounded delightful, and especially the owner ‘finding herself’ a widow.
And daily I expect to hear X has died, the last letter from her daughter said her condition was deteriorating and she spent all her time in bed now. I’ve since had a very shaky letter from her, you never know with X. She has such fantastic stamina if she’s set her heart to still be with them for Xmas she jolly well will be.
I had X yesterday – you can’t take your eyes off him for a minute – even when he’s ‘asleep’! His father put him to bed when they came the other day – after 1/2 hour I said I could still hear him talking so Y decided to get him up. He’d turned on my bedside light and I suddenly saw what looked like strips torn off the wallpaper – then we smelt my new large pot of hand cream. He’d put the lot all over his face and hands and a square yard of the wall, 3 pillow cases, sheet and my candlewick bedspread. We scraped it off with a knife – fortunately it was a washable paint on the wall and it doesn’t show!!
The infants v. good – X is a really delightful and responsible little boy and Y is much improved though I gather a constant source of worry to the parents as to what she’ll say or do next! She was cut off sharply once or twice before I could gather what she’d said – maddening!!! Z is a nice cuddly little thing and ties her mother round her little finger.
There’s a constant whirl going on from 5.30 a.m. on. One morning at this time X crept into the family room where I slept and excused himself in a penetrating whisper, as he wanted his song book. He crept back to the room they all three share now and they quietly shut the door and went to it, the lot, but the lot, from Yellow Submarine to Lily the Pink in a really wall shattering chorus.
We had X to stay over the weekend a week or so ago, which was interesting. We hadn’t seen her apart from one or two hours since before she went to Canada, and she has grown up a lot; in fact she is a very different person from the rather whinging schoolgirl she was ten years ago. Now she knows it all (with admittedly more justification than most nineteen year olds, for she has got herself around a great deal). She is planning to go to Vietnam, on some sort of biological research team, to work in the forests next January, together with her boyfriend. I would be heartily glad if the whole plan falls through, for it seems to offer a variety of dangers: but I suppose one can only just express an opinion and leave it at that. She is a nice affectionate child (young woman).
She is the oddest baby. Her mother said she wasn’t at all what she expected – and she looked just like her g’mother! I think she looks like a cross between Grumpy of the 7 Dwarfs and Queen Victoria. Enormous dark eyes she turns on you in a very critical way, dark brown curly hair – lots – and she ruminates all the time with her mouth well turned down and pokes her tongue out and licks her lips. She has a little round bullet head and long fingers and lovely nails.
[Outing with young grandsons] The lunch was super and we all ate hard for 2 hours! … We played racing demon until it was time for tea – ‘We’re really not hungry – just a small piece of pizza please’ all the boys said – but it was remarkable how hungry they felt once more after all – and went on happily to drop scones, flapjacks and burnt house cake most in the plural: an outstanding performance after the lunch they ate!
Praise be X is now really friendly and very sweet and actually knows me – I couldn’t cope with Y – we just don’t ‘take tea’. I laughed and laughed last week – he came for 2 hours whilst his mother went to the hairdressers. He seemed v. chatty and was in fact being quite pleasant and friendly – and all in the same chatty voice said to me, ‘mummy says I mustn’t say I don’t like granny’!!
We had X up here for a couple of days this week. She is most exhausting, and delightful, though with a frightful accent and not very usual table manners, which she has acquired from her flatmates, I suppose – they both work in the builders trade, so eating becomes rather like feeding a concrete mixing machine. But X is determined to find some sort of vocation in life: and it obviously ought to be concerned with people, as she seems to have a way with her.
We’ve had X here from Thursday evening until this evening. He is a great giggler (in a raucous way reminiscent of his mother at his age) and very quickwitted – with quite a facility for making Limericks, for instance, which I thought surprising for his age. He has also got much more agile in recent months – runs quite fast and far. We did a few jobs, like planting out the strawberry bed and visiting the water supply and went a long walk up a new track the neighbour has had bulldozed right up to the far end of his hill, on which he was setting the pace most of the way. He got himself soaked 3 times (in the stream, filling the watering can and finally slipping and sitting down on the walk in a very wet patch of grass which he said very indignantly was ‘camouflaged’!!!). I think he enjoyed it all.
The puddle was camouflaged
X wanted to tell us his news! And of course, I couldn’t get a word of what he was saying! However Y then suggested he tell me what he had done at the play centre this morning. I was duly surprised to hear he had played with some gold dice, but Y enlightened me when she came back to close down. It was cold ice they had been playing with! But when I think that I was quite frightened of the telephone until the age of about fifteen, I marvel.
Talking of the way professional families are turned out, do you remember the photo of my family on holiday circa 1920 – scruffy wasn’t the word for us. And come to think of it, X tends to appear in jeans which are more hole than cloth, and all the boys wear terrible gym shoes all the time.
I think we shall have to give up offering meals to her brood. They all came in to tea yesterday on the way back from their parish weekend, although to begin with X just stayed in the car apparently asleep. Y came in and managed two or three ham sandwiches (very ladylike – no crusts) before we eventually produced the biscuits, and then he did quite well on them. Later X wandered in, and of course got the choice straightaway: he managed two nibbles out of a cream cheese and pineapple sandwich, and deserted it for a chocolate biscuit. We had all the crusts for supper!
He gave X a big polystyrene surfboard and Y a recorder – Y burst into tears and said, ‘I want a BIG present too’! All was saved when a swimming ring was in Y’s parcel too and his mother quickly blew it up – BIG!!
I note you are going to X for a lunch – did you know I spent most of my childhood there? It was a lovely, sleepy little place in those days, but when I last went back, it had become all touristy and horrible – and, apart from the fact that both my parents are buried there, and I still have friends there, I wouldn’t mind if I never saw the place again – it has changed beyond all recognition! I’ve always said that one can’t go back in life, only forwards, but I sometimes wonder if I’m even doing that!
It is a big gap and suddenly one realises – at least my sister and I did – that with both our parents gone horror of horrors we are now the ‘older generation’!!
One person from our section resigned recently, and that is allowed to be filled, but it has to be by someone redeployed from another area. This is a bit of a worry, as I expect we’ll get someone who someone else is pleased to see go.
getting rid
Am I nuts? I’ve really stopped being able to see any more whether this really is what I’ve wanted for years or I’m off my rocker. Maybe I’ll be able to think more clearly at my own place.
I asked after the ‘little boy’ born whilst we were there only to find he’d topped 6 foot and had finished a philosophy degree but sadly like so many of them had got a dead end job.
To begin with, I called it ‘Aphorisms and Illustrations’ but on the whole that seems bit pretentious, so it is now called ‘Pointers and Pictures’!
I could have wept over your would-be purchaser opting out – I hope it means there’s a better offer coming your way – any offer coming our way would be something, but so far we’re just 1,200 down the drain in advertising. What is particularly maddening is the first estate agent has a man WITH MONEY looking for something like this, but we’re tied for a month to the auctioneers. He poohpoohed the idea of sharing the commission in spite of my suggestion that ‘half a loaf was better than no bread’ – stiff necked, I call it.
Early in the morning and after 5 p.m. it’s getting nippy. Tho’ many plants have got really muddled up and are flowering for the second time, it’s been a mad season, no really settled weather. I’ve worn a summer dress about 4 times, and my new white sandals the same, and now out must come the old drearies.
I really need to keep a diary: the days get all mixed up in one’s mind, and most of their contents disappears into the rubbish bin of Forgetfulness, more or less without trace! I really don’t recommend the 80s!
I gathered he did his faint in the course of trying to pull up a bush he was transplanting, having dug all round it. It sounded as though X had left him inert in the hole while she went for the doctor, but perhaps it wasn’t quite like that.
pulling up the rose bush
Poor old X – when we came here [14 years before] he and his wife used to make themselves responsible for the little church, mowing, cleaning down the walls and windows, etc. – and only two years ago he was still mowing a quarter acre of grass around his house, and walking every day to his son’s house, about a mile each way for his evening meal. Now he’s just about blind, and progressively slower on his feet and finding great difficulty with his vocabulary (aren’t we all?). He was very worried today when we got into church because he had lost his collection envelope, and kept feeling for it. Eventually when we got him home we went and searched high and low but it was nowhere to be found, in drawers or pockets, though everybody said that his son would have got it ready for him last night. After lunch the son rang up to thank us and it appeared that two months ago, to save the problem of losing the envelope, they started a bank order transfer – but X had forgotten that.
Poor dear seems to have completely lost his marbles, it’s very putting offing hearing the queer things people here do and say as they get beyond their years.
I don’t mind how long I live, I’ve lots I want to do, so long as I’m not beholden to someone else for decisions and have to be looked after (and I’m sure the family feel the same!!)
I’ve just been to wake him up – 2.45 – when he eventually came to he said, ‘What day is it?’ I said Monday but he decided we had Monday yesterday!
I shall be able to take my daily walk – which is already having a remarkable effect on the evening size of my ankles!
Our next door neighbour was brought home for Christmas, and we popped in to see him. He looks better than I expected physically, but just can’t get his words together, poor dear – even when she gives him half a chance, and she can talk the back leg off a donkey.
X as awkward as ever. I fear he dreads coming into our house, and there’s a free fight even getting him out of the car – really most shaming for us. I don’t know what started it all off – no, I haven’t spanked him or even shouted at him once!!!
unwilling visitor
I’d love to know about all the other misdoings at her school her daughter got up to, do tell me more.
X is a real delight – gets handed round like a parcel and beams on everyone. She could only go backwards then – and was trying to pull her leg up by holding her clothes – but a few days after she was off – so now the gate has to be locked by the stairs.
X has been elected form captain which was v. good for her morale – I have a suspicion that she’ll be unbearable – in the nicest possible way!!
She’s having a rough ride at work. I don’t think she’d realised how completely unstructured the school is. If her little dears (8 year olds) get bored or cross they go walk-about and come back when they feel like it. Also several of them can’t read…
I asked X (re that couple) about babies a while ago and she made it sound not to be mentioned.
The children fell upon her as though they had suffered tortures during the fortnight (when grandmother and great-aunt were in charge), but needless to say they had been well and truly spoilt really and got away with a lot of minor sins without reprimand – and with a great deal of demanding favourite food and more ice-cream etc. that no doubt mum would have dealt with much more severely than grandmother did – although even she rebelled when the youngest tried to get away with putting golden syrup on a chocolate wheaten biscuit! Ladling it on to a scone was one thing and licking the spoon with a ladleful of treacle in it just passable, but the idea of it on expensive choc bics was too much!!
At last I have found a good class to go to. My 85 yr old tutor finally gave up, so this was a relief, as none of us liked to stop going. The teacher I now have is full of enthusiasm and telling us to try every type of medium and painting with cloth, sticks, fingers etc., gouache, that I’d never tried before. Quite a change from my ‘primp-sy’ watercolours.
I have not been to many dancing classes very much at all this year. It has been too much what with everything else. I think I have been rather stressed. The last class for the year should be tomorrow night, so I will go to that, and give myself the idea that this is what I am to do next year. I do enjoy going really, and it is nice to see the others who go, so I must make the effort.
I’ve managed to find time to do a wild flower course one evening a week, mainly because a friend wanted to do it and I went to keep her company. Most of it was far too technical for me (memories of school biology lessons flooded back!) but I enjoyed seeing all the slides the lecturer showed us, and the field trips were good. One beautiful summer’s evening, we went to see a preserved wild flower meadow. After about an hour of being told all the Latin names of everything we were seeing, my brain just seized up! So while all these really enthusiastic botanists were crawling around on their hands and knees examining every last petal and leaf, I just sat and admired the wonderful views.
Filed words 