Diary Of A Provincial Lady, Chapter 4

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, our narrator goes to Portsmouth to meet her dear friend Rose, who has sailed over from America. There has been a storm at sea, and she's worried that her friend has been terribly sea-sick. But Rose turns out to be a good sailor - unlike our narrator.

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

After some time abroad,

Edme and her new husband settled happily in Devonshire.

They had two children,

A boy and a girl.

She became a magistrate and also a great worker for the Women's Institute.

She also kept on writing.

Three plays,

Comedy sketches,

Magazine pieces and very nearly one book a year.

But she stumbled almost accidentally on the magic formula which was to turn her into a household name.

The editor of Time and Tide,

Then a large circulation weekly,

Wanted something light and readable,

Preferably in serial form,

To fill the centre pages.

So before I go ahead,

Please make yourself really comfortable settling down into your bed or into your chair,

Relaxing your hands,

Dropping your shoulders and softening your jaw.

That's great.

So if you're ready,

Then I shall begin.

December the 1st.

Cable from Dear Rose saying she lands at Tilbury on the 10th.

Cable back,

Welcome and will meet her at Tilbury on the 10th.

Tell Vicki that her godmother,

My dearest friend,

Is returning home after three years in America.

Vicki says,

Oh will she have a present for me?

I'm disgusted with her mercenary attitude.

December the 3rd.

Radio from Dear Rose landing Plymouth the 8th,

After all.

Send return message,

Renewed welcomes and will meet her at Plymouth.

Robert adopts unsympathetic attitude and says this is waste of time and money.

Do not know if he means cables or journey to meet ship,

But feel sure better not inquire.

Shall go to Plymouth on the 7th.

Mammo,

Pay Grocer's book before I go and tell him last lot of ginger nuts were soft.

Find out first if Ethel kept tin properly shut.

December the 8th,

Plymouth.

Arrived last night.

Terrific storm,

Ship delayed.

Much distressed at thought of Rose,

Probably suffering severe seasickness.

Wind howls round hotel,

Which shakes.

Rain lashes against windowpane all night.

Do not like my room and have unpleasant idea that someone may have committed a murder in it.

Mysterious door in corner,

Which I feel conceals a corpse.

Remember all the stories I have read to this effect and cannot sleep.

Finally,

Open mysterious door and find large cupboard,

But no corpse.

Go back to bed again.

Storm worse than ever in the morning.

I'm still more distressed at the thought of Rose,

Who will probably have to be carried off ship in state of collapse.

Go round to shipping office and I'm told to be on the docks at 10 o'clock.

Having had previous experience of this,

Take warm coat,

Campstool and copy of American Tragedy as being the longest book I can find and camp myself on docks.

Rain stops.

Other people turn up and look enviously at campstool.

Very old lady in black totters up and down until I feel guilty and offer to give up campstool to her.

She replies,

Thank you,

Thank you,

But my Daimler is outside and I can sit in that when I wish to do so.

Return to American Tragedy feeling discouraged.

Find American Tragedy a little oppressive,

But read on and on for about two hours when policeman informs me that tender is about to start for ship if I wish to go on board.

Remove self,

Campstool and American Tragedy to tender.

Read for 40 minutes.

Memo,

Ask Rose if American life is really like that.

Very,

Very unpleasant half hour follows.

Campstool shows tendency to slide about all over the place and I'm obliged to abandon American Tragedy for the time being.

Numbers of men of seafaring aspect walk about and look at me.

One of them asks,

Am I a good sailor?

No,

I am not.

Presently,

Ship appears,

Apparently suddenly rising up from the middle of the waves and ropes are dangled in every direction.

Just as I catch sight of Rose,

Tender is carried away from ship's side by colossal waves,

Consoled by reflection that Rose is evidently not going to require carrying on shore,

But presently begin to feel that boot,

As they say,

May be on the other foot.

More waves,

More ropes and tremendous general activity.

I return to campstool but have no strength left to cope with American Tragedy.

A man in oil skins tells me,

I am in the way there,

Miss.

Remove myself,

Campstool and American Tragedy to another corner.

A man in sea boots says that if I stay there,

I may get badly knocked about.

Renewed déménagement of self,

Campstool and American Tragedy.

I'm slightly comforted by having been called miss.

Catch glimpse of Rose from strange angles as tender heaves up and down.

Gangway eventually materializes and self,

Campstool and American Tragedy achieve the ship.

Realize too late that campstool and American Tragedy might equally well have remained where they were.

Dear Rose,

Most appreciative of effort involved by coming to meet her,

But declares herself perfectly good sailor and slept all through last night's storm.

Try hard not to feel unjustly injured about this.

December the 9th,

Rose staying here two days before going on to London,

Says all American houses are always warm,

Which annoys Robert.

He says in return that all American houses are grossly overheated and entirely airless.

Impossible not to feel that this would carry more weight if Robert had ever been to America.

Rose also very insistent about efficiency of American telephone service and inclined to ask for glasses of cold water at breakfast time,

Which Robert does not approve of.

Otherwise,

Dear Rose entirely unchanged and offers to put me up in her West End flat as often as I like to come to London,

Except gratefully.

NB,

How very different to old school friend Sissy Crab with bed sitting room and gas ring in Norwich,

But should not like to think myself in any way a snob.

On Rose's advice,

Bring bulb bowls up from cellar and put them in drawing room.

Several of them perfectly visible,

But somehow do not look entirely healthy.

Rose thinks too much watering.

If so,

Sissy Crab entirely to blame.

Memo,

Either move bulb bowls upstairs or tell Ethel to show Lady Box into morning room if she calls.

Cannot possibly enter into further discussion with her concerning bulbs.

December the 10th.

Robert this morning complains of insufficient breakfast.

Cannot feel that porridge,

Scrambled eggs,

Toast,

Marmalade,

Scones,

Brown bread and coffee give adequate grounds for this,

But admit that porridge is slightly burnt.

How impossible ever to encounter burnt porridge without vivid recollections of Jane Eyre at Lowood School,

Say I parenthetically.

This literary illusion not a success.

Robert suggests ringing for Cook and have greatest difficulty in persuading him that this course is utterly disastrous.

Eventually go myself to kitchen in ordinary course of events and approach subject of burnt porridge circuitously and with utmost care.

Cook replies as I expected with expressions of astonishment and incredulity,

Coupled with assurances that kitchen range is again at fault.

She also says that new double saucepan,

Fish kettle and nursery teacups are urgently required.

Make inquiries regarding recently purchased nursery tea set and I'm shown one handle without cup,

Saucer in three pieces and cup from which large semicircle has apparently been bitten.

Feel that mademoiselle will be hurt if I pursue inquiries further.

Note extreme sensibility of French sometimes makes them difficult to deal with.

Read life and letters of distinguished women recently dead and I'm struck as so often by difference between her correspondence and that of less distinguished women.

Immense and affectionate letters from celebrities on every other page,

Epigrammatic notes from literary and political acquaintances,

Poetical assurances of affection and admiration from husband and even infant children.

Try to imagine Robert writing in similar strain in the improbable event of my attaining celebrity but fail.

Dear Vicky,

Equally unlikely to commit her feelings,

If any,

To paper.

Robin's letter arrives by second post and I'm delighted to have it as ever but cannot feel that laconic information about boy unknown to me called bags having been swished and Mr.

Gumpshaw visiting master being kept away by sore throat is on anything like equal footing with lengthy and picturesque epistles received almost daily by subject of biography whenever absent from home.

Remainder of mail consists of one bill from chemist.

Memo,

Ask mademoiselle why two tubes of Gibbs toothpaste within 10 days.

Illiterate postcard from piano tuner announcing visit tomorrow and circular concerning true temperance.

Inequalities of fate very curious should like on this account to believe in reincarnation.

Spend some time picturing to completely renovated state of affairs with amongst other improvements total reversal of relative positions of lady B and myself query is thought on abstract questions ever a waste of time.

December 11th Robert still harping on topic of yesterday's breakfast says suddenly why not a ham to which I reply austerely that a ham is on order but will not appear until arrival of Robert's brother William and his wife for Christmas visit.

Robert with every manifestation of horror says are William and Angela coming to us for Christmas.

This attitude absurd as invitation was given months ago at Robert's own suggestion.

Query here becomes unavoidable does not a misplaced optimism exist common to all mankind leading on to false conviction that social engagements if dated sufficiently far ahead will never really materialize.

To be continued.

Reviews

She is witty! Robert sounds like a dud😝 thanks as always!!✨🙏🏼✨

Hi Mandy! Thank you for your reading 📖 I’m having the same trouble with staying awake to the end of the chapter, so I know Rose is off the ship but nothing beyond that point. In spite of my falling asleep all the time I am enjoying this story. 🙏🏻😊💕

Hard to believe this is almost 100 years old. Seems so modern. Thanks Mandy 🙏🏻