Hello there,
It's Mandy here.
Thanks for joining me tonight and welcome back to Diary of a Provincial Lady by E.
M.
Delafield.
And I'd like to give you a little snippet,
Another one from E.
M.
Dallefield's daughter,
Rosamund.
She says.
.
.
Home life had an inflexible routine.
Breakfast at half past eight,
Lunch at 1.
15,
Dinner at eight.
The maid would bang the gong and for dinner my parents would always dress formally.
My father in a boiled shirt and my mother in an evening dress.
Occasionally they would give a dinner party for the Llewellyns.
This was a game invented by my brother Lionel.
We would be Mr and Mrs Llewellyn,
And we would dress up accordingly.
The maids would enter into the spirit of the thing and make a great production of treating us like grown-ups.
We've reached chapter 33.
And before I go ahead,
Please feel free to make yourself really comfortable and settle down into your chair or your bed.
Relax your hands.
Soften your shoulders.
And drop your jaw.
That's great.
So if you're ready,
Then I shall begin.
September the 24th.
Frightful welter of packing,
Putting away an earnest consultations of school list.
Robin gives everybody serious injunctions about not touching anything whatsoever in his bedroom,
Which looks like an inferior pawnbroking establishment at stock-taking time,
And we all more or less commit ourselves to leaving it alone until the Christmas holidays,
Which is completely out of the question.
He is taken away by Robert in the car,
Looking forlorn and infantile,
And Vicky bursts into tears.
I beseech her to desist at once,
But I am rebuked by Mademoiselle,
Who says,
Ah,
She has so much heart,
In a tone which implies that she cannot say as much for myself.
October 1st.
Tell Robert about proposed short tour to Chick,
Little March and Crimpington on behalf of the WIs.
He says little,
And that little is not very enthusiastic.
I spend many hours,
Or so it seems,
Looking out notes for talks,
And trying to remember anecdotes that shall be at once funny and suitable.
This combination rather unusual.
Pack,
Small bag,
Search frantically all over writing table,
Bedroom and drawing room for W.
I.
Badge,
Which is at last discovered by mademoiselle in remote corner of drawer devoted to stockings,
And take my departure.
Robert drives me to the station and I beg that he will keep an eye on the bulbs whilst I'm away.
October the 2nd.
Bus from Chick conveys me to Little March after successful meeting last night at which I discourse on amateur theatricals.
I'm applauded,
Thanked by president in the chair,
Name inaudible,
Applauded once more and taken home by assistant secretary who is putting me up for the night.
We talk about the movement.
Annual meeting at Blackpool perhaps a mistake?
Why not Bristol or Plymouth?
Difficulty of thinking out new programmes for monthly meetings,
And really magnificent performance of Chick at recent folk dancing rally,
At which Institute members called upon to go through the gathering peas cods no less than three times.
Two of Chick's best performers,
Says Assistant Secretary proudly,
Being grandmothers.
I express astonished admiration and we go on to village halls,
Sir Oswald Moseley and methods of removing ink stains from linen.
Just as Assistant Secretary,
Who is unmarried and lives in nice little cottage,
Has escorted me to charming little bedroom,
She remembers the time eventually going on to Crimpington,
And embarks on interesting scandal about two members of Institute there,
And unaccountable disappearance of one member's name from the committee.
This keeps up till eleven o'clock,
When she begs me to say nothing whatever about her having mentioned the affair,
Which was all told to her in the strictest confidence,
And we part.
Reach Little March via the bus which is old and rattles in time for lunch.
Doctor's sister meets me,
Elderly lady with dog,
And talks about hunting.
Meeting takes place at three o'clock,
In delightful hot,
And I'm impressed by business-like and efficient atmosphere.
Doctor's sister in the chair introduces me,
And luckily my name eludes her at 11th hour,
But I hastily supply it,
And she says,
Of course,
Of course,
And I launch out into a visit to Switzerland.
As soon as I have finished,
Elderly Member surges up from front row and says this has been particularly interesting to her as she once lived in Switzerland for nearly 14 years and knows every inch of it from end to end.
My own experience confined to six weeks round and about Lucerne ten years ago.
We drink cups of tea,
Eat excellent buns,
Sing several community songs,
And meeting comes to an end.
Doctor's sister's two-seater,
Now altogether home-like,
Receives me once again and I congratulate her on institute.
She smiles and talks about hunting.
Evening passes off quietly.
Doctor comes in,
Elderly man with two dogs.
He also talks about hunting and we all separate for bed at 10 o'clock.
October the 3rd.
Part early from Doctor,
Sister,
Dogs and Two Seater,
And proceed by train to Crimpington,
As meeting does not take place until afternoon,
And have no wish to arrive earlier than I need.
Curious cross-country journey with many stops and one change involving long and drafty wait that I enliven by a cup of Bovril.
Superb car meets me and superb chauffeur who despises me and my bag at sight but is obliged to drive us both to crimpington hall Butler receives me and I am conducted through immense and chilly hall with stone flags to equally immense and chilly drawing room where he leaves me.
Very small fire is lurking behind steel bars at far end of room and i make my way to it past little gilt tables large chairs and sofas cabinets apparently lined with china cups and luster teapots and massive writing tables entirely furnished with hundreds of photographs in silver frames Butler suddenly reappears with The Times,
Which he hands to me on small salver.
I've already read it from end to end in the train,
But feel obliged to open it and begin all over again.
He looks doubtfully at the fire and I hope he is going to put on more coal.
But instead he goes away and is presently replaced by Lady Maudlin Crimp,
Who is about 95 and stone deaf.
She wears black,
And large fur cape,
As well she may.
She produces trumpet,
And I talk down it,
And she smiles and nods,
And has evidently not heard one word,
Which is just as well as none of them are worth hearing.
After some time she suggests my room and we creep along slowly for about a quarter of a mile until the first floor is reached and vast bedroom with old-fashioned four poster in the middle of it.
Here she leaves me,
And I wash from little brass jug of tepid water,
And note,
By no means for the first time,
That the use of powder,
When temperature has sunk below a certain level,
Merely casts an extraordinary azure shade over nose and chin.
Faint hope of finding fire in dining room is extinguished on entering it when I am at once struck by its resemblance to a mausoleum.
Lady M and I sit down at Mahogany's circular table.
She says,
Do I mind a cold lunch?
I shake my head,
As being preferable to screaming no down trumpet,
Though equally far from the truth,
And we eat rabbit cream,
Coffee shape and Marie biscuits.
Conversation,
Spasmodic and unsatisfactory,
And I'm reduced to looking at portraits on wall,
Of gentlemen in wigs and ladies with bosoms,
Also objectionable study of dead bird,
Dripping blood,
Lying amongst oranges and other vegetable matter.
Should like to know what dear Rose,
With her appreciation of art,
Would say to this.
Later,
We adjourn to drawing room,
Fire now a mere ember,
And Lady M explains that she is not going to the meeting,
But Vice President will look after me,
And she hopes I shall enjoy recitation competition.
Some of our members really very clever,
And one in particular so amusing in dialect.
I nod and smile and continue to shiver and presently car fetches me away to village.
Meeting is held in reading room,
Which seems to me a perfect paradise of warmth,
And I place myself as close as possible to large oil stove.
Vice President,
Very large and expansive in blue,
Conducts everything successfully and I deliver homily about what our children read,
Which is kindly received.
After tea,
Delightfully hot,
In fact it scolds me,
But I welcome it,
Recitation competition takes place and I have to rivet my attention on successive members,
Who mount a little platform and declaim,
In turns,
We begin with not very successful rendering of verses hitherto unknown to me,
Entitled,
Our Institute,
And which turn out to be original composition of reciter.
This followed by Gunga Din and very rousing poem about keeping the old flag flying Elderly member then announces,
The mine,
And is very dramatic and impressive,
But not wholly intelligible,
Which I put down to dialect.
Finally award first place to the old flag and second to the mine and present prizes I'm unfortunately inspired to observe that dialect poems are always so interesting.
And it then turns out that the mine wasn't in dialect at all.
However,
Too late to do anything about it.
Meeting is prolonged for which i am thankful but finally can no longer defer returning to arctic regions of crimpington hall Lady M and I spend evening cowering over Great and exchanging isolated remarks and many nods and smiles across the ear trumpet.
Finally,
I get into the enormous four poster covered by very inadequate supply of blankets and clutching insufficiently heated hot water bottle.
October the 5th.
Develop really severe cold 24 hours after reaching home.
Robert says that all institutes are probably full of germs,
Which is both unjust and ridiculous.
To be continued.
