Dearest Jane... (40 page)

[Early 1980s]

I have to have the wound on my leg dressed daily by the district nurse. Nurse Simcox went on holiday and told me that Nurse Leech would call here instead at the usual time. At 9.30 a.m. sharp the doorbell rang and there was a charming little blonde creature, quite saucy but a teeny bit dirty, I thought. I ushered her into the sitting room and began to remove my trousers. This seemed to surprise her, even alarm her, and she said ‘There must be a mistake, I am here from the farm with a tractor to harrow your field.’ Thus as distressing and humiliating scene was narrowly averted. Nurse Leech arrived shortly afterwards.

Chateau Geriatrica

Saturday [mid 1980s]

My blood pressure has been a bit high lately and the other day someone reminded me (unkindly) of the old blood pressure song which starts off:

Singing in the brain, I’ve got that singing in the brain, It’s a horrible feeling, blood pressure again.

I believe there is an alcoholics hymn that begins:

Lead blindly tight, amid the revolving room.

The Old Crumblings

[Mid 1980s]

Where did you leave those pills you picked up at the surgery for me? I can’t find them, not even in the deep freeze. If I am without them for 48 hours, I run the risk of cardiac arrest, impetigo and a rare disease called ‘curates clap’ caused by eating green rhubarb.

Maison des Gagas Kintbury

[Mid 1980s]

A lot of lunch and dinner parties lately. Mostly jolly young people, barely a day over 68. Your godfather Brig. Robin has been very poorly with a poisoned toe. Possibly a love bite from the redhead in a local shoe shop. Lucky it was only his toe, I say!

The Miller’s House

[Mid 1980s]

I went to the surgery for a chat with Doc Yates: we get on pretty well together and he is certainly nicer than the average GP. He thinks I may last out till Christmas but some days I’m as weak as a vole.

The Miller’s House

17 March [mid 1980s]

People are dying like flies round here. Our charming friend Dame Ann Parker Bowles dropped dead without warning two days ago. I first knew her fifty years ago when she was a real ‘Tatler’ girl of that era, pretty, lively and more intelligent than most. Her father won the Derby with Parthia. Pre-war, you could not have pictured her as Girl Guide yet she became a most efficient head of that body. She was mad on racing and was a fellow committee member of mine on the Berkshire Animal Health Trust. Her very amusing husband died quietly one morning while reading the ‘Sporting Life’ after breakfast. I knew her father, Sir Humphrey de Trafford, pretty well.

Dame Ann Parker Bowles was the mother-in-law to Camilla, now the Duchess of Cornwall. Her Coldstreamer father, Sir Humphrey de Trafford MC, was a prominent racehorse owner
.

The Miller’s House

15 May 1987

Nidnod is now all set for her stay in hospital. Though not, happily, a dangerous operation, it is not a pleasant one and she is being calm and courageous. How lucky that women are far braver over health than men are! The dogs are going to be very unhappy without her and I myself will be completely lost.

My mother was soon home and up and about again
.

The Miller’s House

16 January 1987

I enclose a small birthday present which will just about cover the cost of a couple of bottles of tonic water. Oh, for by-gone happier days when a new novel by a leading author could be obtained for 7/6d! Happy birthday and best of luck! Looking back 78 years, my life seems to be an extraordinary mixture of hideous misfortune and quite unmerited good luck. Perhaps they cancel out, but I don’t really think so. I don’t actually regret much except appalling ingratitude, odious snobbishness, moral cowardice and a few other things I won’t mention!

Best love,

xx D

My father’s lifelong advice was: ‘My dear child, life is essentially unfair and the sooner you realise it the better.’ I have had more than my fair share of good luck
.

The Miller’s House

17 January [late 1980s]

Very many happy returns for your birthday. When I think of what has happened in my lifetime, I wonder what sort of world it will be when you reach 80! I imagine the population of this country will be composed largely of incontinent geriatrics who can be cured of everything bar the ghastly frailties of old age. Enjoy yourself while you still can.

Very best love and come and see me before Demon Moss uproots my middle stump.

xx D

The Miller’s House

16 June [late 1980s]

Just back from London. I watched the Queen’s Birthday Parade on TV. I rode in the parade in 1947 but of course we had a king then! My horse was called Virile (a gelding!) and was frequently ridden by senior policemen at race meetings in the suburbs. He used to pee when the National Anthem was played. We went to a huge drinks party at the Guards Club. Purgatory! Nidnod has given me an eye lotion which has virtually robbed me of my sight. I’ve had to buy a new electric pad – no warmth, it’s like being kissed by an Eskimo. I shan’t go to Ascot. I first went in 1958. I think I’ve had my ration.

The Miller’s House

3 May 1990

I recently paid my first visit to London this year and went to a lunch at Boodle’s for Coldstream officers who served in Egypt and Palestine between 1937 and 1945. There were 24 acceptors among the survivors and two I remembered as spry young officers turned out to be the Bishop of Lincoln and the Regius Professor of Modern History at Oxford. The Duke of Devonshire said my strong language made him nervous!

The Many Leakings

Burghclere

31 October [early 1980s]

I am a great admirer of Gertrude Bell, one of the outstanding Englishwomen of this century. She was born in Co. Durham and I think there is a memorial to her in a church not far from you. It consists of a translation she made of a verse in Persian:

Thus said the Poet: When death comes to you
All ye whose life-sand through the hour glass slips,
He lays two fingers on your ears, and two
Upon your eyes he lays, one on your lips,
Whispering: Silence!

I’d rather like to see it.

Best love,

xx D

I wish we had managed to visit Gertrude Bell’s memorial at the church at East Porton, in North Yorkshire. These beautiful lines were from her translation of the works of the Persian poet, Hafez, and were later inscribed on the card for my father’s thanksgiving service
.

Budds Farm

Sunday [late 1980s]

I enjoyed most of this summer but frankly I do not anticipate seeing another. If you can only remember some of the old jokes, that is as much immortality as I expect.

xxxx D

My Dearest Father – We have. xxxx

Newly commissioned Coldstream Guard’s officer Roger, 1930.

Roger as a POW in autumn 1940 – the first of five he would spend in prison.

Roger’s first class exam pass in German, in prison.

Roger’s military ID card, 1946.

Roger and Cynthia’s wedding day in 1947.

What have I got here? My mother and me at my christening, 1949.

My father and me in Dorset, 1951.