Diary Of A Provincial Lady, Chapter 1

It's always exciting to start a new book! Diary of a Provincial Lady, by E M Delafield, first published nearly a hundred years ago, has been described as a direct ancestor of Bridget Jones' Diary. This timeless tale of the daily inanities of domestic life has also been compared with George Grossmith's Diary of a Nobody.

In tonight's episode, the indoor bulbs are planted, the insufferable Lady Boxe pays a visit, and when the family makes their annual trip to Bournemouth, history seems to be repeating itself.

Transcript

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Welcome to a new book,

The Diary of a Provincial Lady by E.

M.

Delafield.

Now this book has been described as a direct ancestor of Bridget Jones' diary.

Behind the rather prim and proper title lies the hilarious diary of a long-suffering and disaster-prone Devon lady of the 1930s.

Anyway,

I do hope you're going to enjoy it.

We're starting with the first diary entry on November the 7th in an unspecified year.

But before I go ahead,

Please make yourself really comfortable,

Whether that's sitting in a chair or lying on your bed.

Relax your hands,

Soften your shoulders and maybe just release your jaw a little.

That's great.

So if you're ready,

Then I shall begin.

November the 7th.

Plant the indoor bulbs.

Just as I am in the middle of them,

Lady Box calls.

I say,

Untruthfully,

How nice to see her and beg her to sit down while I just finish the bulbs.

Lady B makes a determined attempt to sit down in the armchair where I've already placed two bulb bowls and the bag of charcoal,

Is headed off just in time and takes the sofa.

Do I know,

She asks,

How very late it is for indoor bulbs?

September,

Really,

Or even October is the time.

Do I know that the only really reliable firm for Hyacinths is somebody of Harlem?

Cannot catch the name of the firm,

Which is Dutch,

But reply,

Yes,

I do know,

But think it my duty to buy English products.

Feel at the time and still think that this is an excellent reply.

Unfortunately,

Vicky comes into the drawing room later and says,

Oh mummy,

Are those the bulbs we got at Woolworths?

Lady B stays to tea.

Memo,

Bread and butter too thick,

Speak to Ethel.

We talk some more about bulbs,

The Dutch school of painting,

Our vicar's wife,

Sciatica,

And all quiet on the Western Front.

Query,

Is it possible to cultivate the art of conversation when living in the country all year round?

Lady B inquires after the children.

I tell her that Robin,

Whom I refer to in a detached way as the boy,

So that she shan't think I'm foolish about him,

Is getting on fairly well at school and that Mademoiselle says Vicky is starting a cold.

Do I realise,

Says Lady B,

That the cold habit is entirely unnecessary and can be avoided by giving the child a nasal douche of salt and water every morning before breakfast?

Think of several rather tart and witty rejoinders to this,

But unfortunately not until Lady B's Bentley has taken her away.

Finish the bulbs and put them in the cellar.

Feel that after all the cellar is probably drafty.

Change my mind and take them all up to the attic.

Cook says something is wrong with the range.

November the 8th,

Robert has looked at the range and says nothing is wrong with it whatsoever.

Makes unoriginal suggestion about pulling out the dampers.

Cook,

Very angry and will probably give notice.

Try to soothe her by saying we're going to Bournemouth for Robin's half term and that will give the household a rest.

Cook replies austerely that they will take the opportunity to do some extra cleaning.

Wish I could believe that that was true.

Preparations for Bournemouth are rather marred by discovering that Robert,

In bringing down the suitcases from the attic,

Has broken three of the bulb bowls.

Says he understood I'd put them in the cellar and so wasn't expecting them.

November 11th,

Bournemouth.

Find that history,

As usual,

Repeats itself.

Same hotel,

Same frenzied scurry around the school to find Robin.

Same collection of parents,

Most of them also staying at the hotel.

Discover strong tendency to exchange with fellow parents exactly the same remarks as last year and the year before that.

Speak of this to Robert.

Who returns no answer.

Perhaps he is afraid of repeating himself.

This suggests a query.

Does Robert perhaps take in what I say even when he makes no reply?

Find Robin looking thin and speak to Matron who says brightly,

Oh no,

She thinks on the whole he's put on weight this term and then begins to talk about the new buildings.

Query,

Why do all schools have to run up new buildings about once every six months?

Take Robin out.

He eats several meals and a good many sweets.

He produces a friend and we take both of them to Corfe Castle.

The boys climb,

Robert smokes in silence and I sit about on stones.

Over here a woman remark as she gazes up at half a tower that has withstood several centuries that this looks fragile.

Which strikes me as a singular choice of adjective.

Same woman climbing over a block of solid masonry points out that this has evidently fallen off somewhere.

Take the boys back to the hotel for dinner.

Robin says while the friend is out of hearing,

It's been nice for us taking out Williams hasn't it?

Hastily express appreciation of this privilege.

Robert takes the boys back after dinner and I sit in the hotel lounge with several other mothers and we all talk about our boys in tones of disparagement and about one another's boys with great enthusiasm.

I'm asked what I think of Harriet Hume but I'm unable to say as I haven't read it.

Have a depressed feeling that this is going to be another case of Orlando about which was perfectly able to talk most intelligently until I read it and found myself unfortunately unable to understand any of it.

Robert comes up very late and says he must have dropped to sleep over the times.

Query why come to Bournemouth to do this?

Postcard by the last post from Lady B to ask if I've remembered that there is a committee meeting of the Women's Institute on the 14th.

Should not dream of answering this.

November the 12th,

Home yesterday and I'm struck as so often before by immense accumulation of domestic disasters that always await one after any absence.

Trouble with kitchen range has resulted in no hot water.

Also cook says the mutton has gone and will I speak to the butcher?

There being no excuse with weather like this.

Vic is cold unlike the mutton hasn't gone.

Mademoiselle says.

Hope this is only her Latin way of dramatizing the situation.

Robert reads the Times after dinner and goes to sleep.

November the 13th,

Interesting but disconcerting train of thought started by prolonged discussion with Vicky as to the existence or otherwise of a locality which she refers to throughout as H.

E.

L.

I'm determined to be a modern parent and assure her that there is not,

Never has been and never could be such a place.

Vicky maintains that there is and refers me to the Bible.

I become more modern than ever and tell her that theories of eternal punishment were invented to frighten people.

Vicky replies indignantly that they don't frighten her in the least.

She likes to think about H.

E.

L.

I feel that deadlock has been reached and can only leave her to her singular method of enjoying herself.

Query,

Are modern children going to revolt against being modern and if so,

What form will reaction of modern parents take?

Much worried by letter from the bank to say that my account is overdrawn to the extent of eight pounds,

Four shillings and four pence.

Cannot understand this as was convinced that I still had credit balance of two pounds,

Seven shillings and six pence.

Annoyed to find that my accounts,

Contents of cash box and counterfoils in checkbook do not tally.

Memo,

Find envelope on which I jotted down Bournemouth expenses.

Also,

The little piece of paper,

Probably last leaf of the grocer's book,

With note about cash payment to sweep.

This may clear things up.

Take a look at bulb bowls on returning suitcase to attic and I'm inclined to think it looks as though the cat had been up here.

If so,

This will be the last straw.

Shall tell Lady Box that I sent all my bulbs to a sick friend in a nursing home.

To be continued.

Reviews

How nice to enjoy a new book with my favorite reader! 🌺🌸🌷

Fabulous xx read the books ages ago and you bring her to joyous life thank you 🙏

This had me smiling and I am looking forward to more. Thank you.

I do hope it brings you joy knowing your importance to so many people with your exposure to many different shares. A most delightful story. Thanks ever so much.💐

Oh Mandy I’m so excited for another diary!! Great choice. I’ve listened for a week already but the app wouldn’t let me leave a review. This is going to be a great series! X

Excited to be starting a new book with you Mandy. Query…what inspired you to begin reading these old books with us on Insight Timer?

Delightful, charming and hilarious. Beautiful writing l and wonderful narration. Can’t wait for the next one!. Thank you Mandy.🙏

Sounds like this will be a fun story, Mandy. Thank you for continuing to post readings on Insight Timer. 🙏🏻😊💖

Oh Mandy, you pick the best stories! Though I already miss your old dad, I can tell that I'm going to enjoy this new book. ❤

So delighted to be starting a new book with you Mandy! Thanks 🙏🏻