Hello there,
It's Mandy here.
Thanks so much for joining me tonight.
Welcome back to Diary of a Provincial Lady by E.
M.
Dallifield.
We've reached chapter 10.
Some of you have mentioned in your comments and reviews that you're already familiar with Diary of a Provincial Lady and it's made me wonder whether anybody has read any other of E.
M.
Dallifield's novels.
She was a really prolific writer in her day and I recently read Humbug which I have to say I really enjoyed even though its tone is much darker than Diary of a Provincial Lady.
So if you have read any of her other novels,
Please do let me know in the review.
I'd be really interested.
So before we go ahead,
Please feel free to make yourself really comfortable.
Settle down into your chair or your bed.
Relax your hands.
Soften your shoulders.
Loosen your jaw.
That's great.
So if you're ready,
Then I'll begin.
Chapter 10.
January the 25th.
Attend a committee meeting in the village to discuss how to raise funds for Village Hall.
I'm asked to take the chair.
Begin by saying that I know how much we all have this excellent object at heart and that I feel sure there will be no lack of suggestions as to best method of obtaining requisite sum of money.
Pause for suggestions which is met with death-like silence.
I say there are so many to choose from.
Implication being that I attribute silence to plethora of ideas rather than to absence of them.
Note curious and rather depressing to see how frequently the pursuit of good works leads to apparently unavoidable duplicity.
Silence continues and I say well twice and come come once.
Sudden impulse to exclaim.
I lift up my finger and I say tweet tweet is fortunately overcome.
At last extract a suggestion of a concert from Mrs L whose son plays the violin and a whist drive from Miss P who won ladies first prize at the last one.
Flory P suggests a dance and is at once reminded that it will be lent.
She says that lent isn't what it was.
Her mother says the vicar is one that holds with lent and always has been.
Someone else says that reminds her has anyone heard that old Mr Small passed away last night.
We all agree that 86 is a great age.
Mrs L says that on her mother's side of the family there is an aunt of 98 still with us she adds.
The aunt's husband on the other hand was gathered just before his 60th birthday.
Everyone says you can't ever tell not really.
There is a suitable pause before we go back to lent and the vicar.
General opinion that a concert isn't like a dance and needn't says Mrs L interfere.
On this understanding we proceed.
Various familiar items piano solo recitation duet and violin solo from Master L are all agreed upon.
Someone says that Mrs F and Miss H might do a dialogue and has to be reminded that they are no longer on speaking terms owing to strange behaviour of Miss H about her bantams.
Ah says Mrs S it wasn't only bantams was at the bottom of it there's two sides to every question.
There are at least 20 to this one by the time we've done with it.
Sudden appearance of our vicar's wife who says apologetically that she made a mistake in the time.
I beg her to take the chair.
She refuses.
I insist.
She says no no positively not and takes it.
We begin all over again but general attitude towards lent is much less elastic.
Meeting ends at about five o'clock.
Our vicar's wife walks home with me and tells me that I look tired.
I ask her to come in and have tea.
No she says no it's too kind of me but she must go on to the far end of the parish.
She remains standing at the gate telling me about old small 86 a great age till quarter to six when she departs saying she cannot think why I'm looking so tired.
February 11th.
Robin writes again about cigarette cards.
I send him all those I have collected and Vicky produces two which she has obtained from the garden boy.
Find that this quest grows upon me and I'm apt now when in Plymouth or any other town to scan gutters pavements and tram floors in search of curious beaks famous football players and the like have even gone so far as to implore perfect stranger sitting opposite me and train not to throw cigarette card out of the window but give it to me instead.
Perfect stranger does so with an hour of courteous astonishment and as he asks for no explanation I'm obliged to leave him under the impression that I've merely been trying to force him into conversation with me.
Note could not short article suitable for time and tide be worked up on some such lines as lengths to which mother love may legitimately go.
On second thoughts abandon the idea as being faintly reminiscent of Demoday inquiry do shrimps make good mothers.
Hear that lady box has returned from south of France and is entertaining house party.
She sends telephone message by the butler asking me to tea tomorrow.
I accept.
Why?
February the 12th insufferable behavior of lady B find large party all of whom are directed at front door to go to the hard courts where under inadequate shelter in arctic temperature all are compelled to watch young men in white flannels keeping themselves warm by banging a little ball against the wall.
Lady B wears an emerald green leather coat with fur collar and cuffs.
I having walked down have on ordinary coat and skirt and freeze rapidly.
Find myself next to unknown lady who talks wistfully about the tropics can well understand this.
On other side elderly gentleman who says conversationally that this naval disarmament is all his eye.
This contribution made to contemporary thought he says no more past five o'clock before we're allowed to go into tea by which time I'm only too well aware that my face is blue and my hands purple.
Lady B asks me at tea how the children are and adds to the table at large that I am a perfect mother and naturally avoided conversationally after this by everybody at the tea table.
Later on lady B tells us about south of France.
She quotes repartees made by herself in French and then translates them.
Unavoidable query presents itself here.
Would a verdict of justifiable homicide delivered against their mother affect future careers of children unfavorably?
Discuss foreign travel with unknown but charming lady in black.
We are delighted with one another or so I confidently imagine and she begs me to go and see her if I'm ever in her neighborhood.
I say that I will but I'm well aware that courage will fail me when it comes to the point.
Pleasant sense of mutual sympathy suddenly and painfully shattered by my admitting in reply to direct inquiry that I am not a gardener which the lady in black is to an extent that apparently amounts to monomania.
She remains charming but quite ceases to be delighted with me and I feel discouraged.
NB must try to remember that social success is seldom the portion of those who habitually live in the provinces.
No doubt they serve some other purpose in the vast field of creation but have not yet discovered what.
Lady B asks if I've seen the new play at the royalty.
I say no.
She says have I been to the Italian art exhibition?
I have not.
She inquires what I think of her private suite which I haven't yet read and I at once give her a long and spirited account of my reactions to it.
Feel after this that I'd better go before I'm driven to further excesses.
Shall she,
Says Lady B,
Ring for my car?
Refrain from replying that no amount of ringing will bring my car to the door all by itself and say instead that I walked.
Lady B exclaims that this is impossible and that I am too marvellous altogether.
Take my leave before she can add that I am such a perfect country woman which I feel is coming next.
Get home still chilled to the bone owing to enforced detention at hard court and tell Robert what I think of Lady B.
He makes no answer but I feel he agrees.
Say goodnight to Vicky looking angelic in bed and ask what she's thinking about lying there.
She disconcertingly replies with briskness oh kangaroos and things.
Note the workings of the infant mind very very difficult to follow sometimes.
Mothers by no means infallible.
To be continued.
