Diary Of A Provincial Lady, Chapter 19

Diary of a Provincial Lady, published nearly a hundred years ago by E M Delafield, is a direct ancestor of Bridget Jones' Diary. In tonight's episode, the children, and in turn our narrator, go down with various illnesses. Luckily our narrator's sense of humor doesn't entirely desert her.

This gentle story of the daily ups and downs of domestic life has been compared with George Grossmith's Diary of a Nobody, also available narrated by me in Free Tracks.

If you would like to listen to the tracks seamlessly, please download the playlist, to which tracks are added as they are published here.

For more diary-style humor, do also try Ted the Shed, narrated by me in Free Tracks.

Transcript

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Welcome back to Diary of a Provincial Lady by E.

M.

Delafield.

Delafield's status in Britain was such that in the early days of World War II,

The BBC asked her to broadcast a reassuring series called Home Is Like That,

And the future Prime Minister,

Harold Macmillan,

Persuaded her to bring her beloved diarist out of retirement for a series that was later published as The Provincial Lady in Wartime.

So we've reached Chapter 19,

And before I go ahead,

Please feel free to make yourself really comfortable.

Settle down into your chair or your bed,

Relax your hands,

Soften your shoulders,

And release any tension in your jaw.

That's great.

So if you're comfortable,

Then I shall begin.

Chapter 19.

Both children simultaneously develop incredibly low complaint known as pink eye that everyone unites in telling me is peculiar to the more saliently neglected and underfed section of the juvenile population in the East End of London.

Vicky has a high temperature and is put to bed while Robin remains on his feet but is not allowed out of doors until present cold winds are over.

I leave Vicky to Mademoiselle and Les Memoires d'Anne in the night nursery and undertake to amuse Robin myself downstairs.

He says that he has a splendid idea.

This turns out to be that I should play the piano while he simultaneously sets off the gramophone,

The musical box and the chiming clock.

I protest.

Robin implores and says it will be just like an orchestra.

Shade of Dame Ethel Smythe,

Whose reminiscences I have just been reading.

I weakly yield and attack conspirito,

The Broadway melody in the key of C major.

Robin,

In great excitement,

Starts the clock,

Puts mucking about the garden on the gramophone and winds up the musical box,

Which tinkles out the waltz from Floridora in a tinny sort of way and no recognisable key.

Robin springs about and cheers.

I watch him sympathetically and keep down,

At his request,

The loud pedal.

The door is flung open by Howard Fitzsimmons and Lady B enters wearing brand new green casher with squirrel collar and hat to match and accompanied by military-looking friend.

Have no wish to record subsequent few minutes in which I endeavour to combine graceful greetings to Lady B and the military friend with simple and yet dignified explanation of singular state of affairs presented to them and unobtrusive directions to Robin to switch off musical box and gramophone and betake himself and pink eye upstairs.

Clock has mercifully ceased to chime and Robin struggles gallantly with musical box,

But mucking about the garden continues to ring brazenly through the room for what seems about an hour and a half.

Should not have minded quite so much if it had been classical memories which I also possess or even a Leighton and Johnstone duet.

Robin goes upstairs but not until after Lady B has closely scrutinised him and observed that he looks like measles to her.

Military friend tactfully pretends absorption in the nearest bookcase until this is over when he emerges with breezy observation concerning Bulldog Drummond.

Lady B at once informs him that he must not say that kind of thing to me as I am so very literary.

After this the military friend looks at me with unconcealed horror and doesn't attempt to speak to me again.

On the whole I'm much relieved when the visit is over.

Go upstairs and see Vicky who seems worse and telephone for the doctor.

Mademoiselle begins lugubrious story which is evidently designed to end disastrously about a family in her native town mysteriously afflicted by smallpox of which all the preliminary symptoms were identical with those of Vicky's present disorder.

Afterwards traced to unconsidered purchase by Le Papa of eastern rugs sold by itinerant vendor on the quay at Marseilles.

Cut her short after the death of the six-month-old baby as I perceive that all the other five children are going to follow suit as slowly and as agonizingly as possible.

April the 20th Vicky develops unmistakable measles and doctor says that Robin may follow suit any day.

Infection must have been picked up at Aunt Gertrude's and I shall write and tell her so.

Extraordinary and nightmare-like state of affairs sets in and I alternate between making lemonade for Vicky and telling her the story of Frederick and the picnic upstairs and bathing Robin's pink eye with boracic lotion and reading the Coral Island to him downstairs.

Mademoiselle is devoted in the extreme and utterly refuses to let anyone but herself sleep in Vicky's room but find it difficult to understand exactly on what principle it is that she persists in wearing a peignoir and pantoufles day and night alike.

She is also unwearied in recommending very strange tisanes which she proposes to brew herself from herbs fortunately unobtainable in the garden.

Robert in this crisis is less helpful than I could wish and takes up characteristically masculine attitude that we are all making a great fuss about very little and the whole thing has been got up for the express purpose of putting him to inconvenience which however it does not do as he stays out all day and insists on having dinner exactly the same as usual every evening.

Vicky incredibly and alarmingly good,

Robin almost equally so in patches but renders himself unpopular with Fitzsimmons by leaving smears of plasticine,

Pools of paint water and even blots of ink on much of the furniture.

I find it very difficult to combine daily close inspection of him with a view to discovering the beginning of measles with light-hearted optimism that I feel to be right and rational attitude of mind.

Weather very cold and rainy and none of the fires will burn up.

Cannot say why this is but it adds considerably to condition of gloom and exhaustion which I feel to be gaining upon me hourly.

April the 25th.

Vicky recovering slowly,

Robin showing no sign of measles and myself victim of curious and unpleasant form of chill,

No doubt due to over fatigue.

Howard Fitzsimmons gives notice to the relief of everyone and I obtain service of superior temporary house parlor maid at cost of enormous weekly sum.

April 27th.

Persistence of chill compels me to retire to bed for half a day and Robert suggests gloomily that I have caught the measles.

I demonstrate that this is impossible and after lunch get up and play cricket with Robin on the lawn.

After tea keep Vicky company.

She insists upon playing at the labors of Hercules and we give energetic representations of slaughtering the hydra,

Cleaning out the Augean stables and so on.

I'm divided between gratification at Vicky's classical turn of mind and strong disinclination for so much exertion.

May the 7th.

Resume diary after long and deplorable interlude.

Vanquish chill having suddenly reappeared with immense force and fury and revealed itself as measles.

Robin on same day begins to cough and expensive hospital nurse materializes and takes complete charge.

She proves kind and efficient and brings me messages from the children and realistic drawing from Robin entitled ill person being eaten up by germs.

Query is dear Robin perhaps future Heath Robinson or Arthur Watts.

Soon after this all becomes incoherent and muddled.

Chief recollection is hearing the doctor say that of course my age is against me which hurts my feelings and makes me feel like old Mrs.

Blankensop.

After a few days however I get the better of my age and am given champagne,

Grapes and Valentine's meat juice.

Should like to ask what all this is going to cost but feel it would be ungracious.

The children to my astonishment are up and about again and allowed to come and see me.

They play at panthers on the bed until removed by nurse.

Robin reads aloud to me article on Lord Chesterfield from pages of Time and Tide which has struck him because he like the writer finds it difficult to accept a compliment gracefully.

What do I do he inquires when I receive so many compliments all at once that I am overwhelmed.

I'm obliged to admit that I have not yet found myself in this predicament at which Robin looks surprised and slightly disappointed.

Robert the nurse and I decide in conclave that the children shall be sent to Beaud for a fortnight with nurse and mademoiselle given a holiday in which to recover from her exertions.

I am to join the Beaud party when doctor permits.

Robert goes to make this announcement to the nursery and comes back with the fatal news that mademoiselle is wounded and that the more he asks her to explain the more monosyllabic she becomes.

I'm not allowed either to see her or write explanatory and soothing note and I'm far from reassured by Vicky's report that mademoiselle bathing her has wept and said that in England there are hearts of stone.

May the 12th further interlude this time owing to trouble with the eyes no doubt concomitant of my age once again.

The children and hospital nurse depart on the 9th and I am left to gloomy period of total inactivity and lack of occupation.

Get up after a time and prowl about in a kind of semi-ecclesiastical darkness further intensified by enormous pair of tinted spectacles.

One and only comfort is that I cannot see myself in the glass.

Two days ago decide to make great effort and come down for tea but nearly relapse and go straight back to bed again at sight of colossal demand for the rates confronting me on the hall stand without so much as an envelope between us.

Memo this sort of thing so very unlike picturesque convalescence in a novel where heroine is gladdened by sight of spring flowers sunshine and whatnot no mention ever made of rates or anything like them.

Miss the children very much and my chief companion is kitchen cat a hard-bitten animal with only three and a half legs and a reputation for catching and eating a nightly average of three rabbits.

We get on well together until I have recourse to the piano when he invariably yowls and asks to be let out.

On the whole I'm obliged to admit he is probably right but I have forgotten all I ever knew and I'm reduced to playing popular music by ear which I do badly.

Dear Barbara sends me a book of loopy limericks and Robert assures me that I shall enjoy them later on.

Personally feel doubtful of surviving many more days of this kind.

To be continued.

Reviews

Oh that Lady B in all her finery is now a medical expert! Thanks Mandy 🙏🏻