Dear Lumpy (9 page)

Have a nice time in Scotland,

XXX R

Loopy (aka Lt-Col Sir George Kennard, my father-in-law) had a very different view on the SS to my father. Richard Schulze-Kossens, who had been a member of Hitler’s personal bodyguard regiment, became friendly with Loopy for a period of time. Loopy, in a moment of comradeship (or madness) invited Richard to his annual regimental dinner and to the Cavalry Memorial Parade in Hyde Park. It was nothing more than a miracle that either or both were not taken outside and shot before the first course.

Budds Farm

12 July

Dearest L,

I hope you had a good time in Scotland. Take as many holidays as you can when you are young: they are apt to be sad affairs when you are old and are really happier pottering about at home and going to bed after the nine o’clock news. Nidnod is in good form but finding her injured thumb painful. Her cooking activities are restricted but she drummed up some rather good macaroni cheese last night. I was at Newmarket last week where it was extremely hot. I drove home during a fearful storm; visibility was almost nil and at one point I found myself going the wrong way round a roundabout. Old Lord Belper asked after you; he is very fat but has not changed much in other directions, I fear! His mother is 88 and in a very bad mood, having lost her driving licence. Patrick, our paper boy, is just off to Scotland (perhaps you’ll meet him) for three weeks; he usually goes abroad but he had a fortnight in Spain at Easter! Cousin Tom is trying to persuade me to go to Bali (look it up on the map) in March but I think I am too ancient to disport myself amid all those dusky beauties. Cousin Tom drove his car into a tree last week. The car was wrecked but he was only shaken. The dentist had put 6 stitches in his mouth and then gave him a painkiller which unfortunately sent him to sleep! I heard a rather funny story about a postman but I think you are too young to hear it. Your mother thought it was in very bad taste. Jane’s sons are due here soon; I suppose they’ll smash the old place up. If it gets really nasty in London, bring Rebecca down here. I had an impudent bird in my room last night and had great trouble in evicting it. It made three messes and annoyed me quite a lot. Did Loopy get any rude letters after his TV appearance? At any rate he has not been bombed (yet)! I’m making one of my rare visits to London this week in order to lunch with Major Surtees. I expect I shall drink too much and get on the wrong train at Waterloo. The police are expecting riots in Reading where there is a large black population. Personally I think this country is slithering towards bankruptcy and bloody revolution. Nidnod is arming herself for a last-ditch stand.

Love to you all from both of us,

RM

In 1981 the United Kingdom suffered serious riots across many major cities in England, including London. At the time we lived in Fulham and my father was concerned for our safety largely because he thought that Fulham and Brixton were one and the same as they were outside Kensington or Chelsea.

Budds Farm

Dearest Lumpy,

Nidnod meant to have her first day’s cubbing on Friday but it was cancelled as the head groom at the Old Berks stables wounded a girl groom with a humane killer and then shot himself dead. He had been with the Old Berks for 25 years and was 30 years older than the girl! It is odd how demon sex is always obtruding into fox-hunting. Good old Weavers Gloom trotted up at Folkestone, winning £1,025 and a silver bowl which I have no intention of cleaning.

Lupin seems to be settling down to his work and was last heard driving a crane at St Albans. Your mother is launching out with a lunch party for 22 on Sunday so, as you can well imagine, King Chaos reigns supreme. The guests tend to be elderly and unexciting (like the host and hostess). The dinner Henry kindly asked me to was quite enjoyable though quite different from what I had anticipated and had about as much to do with the racing as had the Labour party conference at Brighton. The theme I discovered on arrival (no one had previously told me) was the presentation of prizes to men and women who had ridden a large number of point to point winners. (Apparently the dinner is an annual event.) There were several speeches, some very long and one farmer from Dorset surprised the ladies with a lengthy story about a horse that could not stop farting. Nick spoke quite well considering he did not really comprehend the theme of the occasion till he got there. I did not realize that Grand Marnier was just one of several hosts and the only person I met representing Grand Marnier was an agreeable man with a beard and unglamorous wife. I baled out soon after the disco started. Major Surtees and I drove back to Newbury in torrential rain. Before the Reading Exit on the M4 it was painfully clear that as a result of the generous Grand Marnier hospitality we both were in dire need of a pee. On the other hand we had no wish to leave the car, dressed as we were in evening clothes. At one point it looked as if my hat would have to be sacrificed but we managed to hold on (not quite literally). At Newbury I transferred to my own car and with singular folly left my suitcase with Major Surtees. I did though, remember to take out 24 bottles of Amontillado. Major Surtees is v pleased as his firm (Garvey’s) is now flogging a lot of Sherry to Peter Dominic. Cousin Tom has got a little dog puppy (fawn) called Gilbert, for whom I’ve fallen in a really big way. Cousin Tom’s last remaining aunt, Lady Laurie, died a couple of weeks short of her 100th birthday. She had been dead keen to make her century. My Great Uncle Percy reached 97 and was pinching the bottoms of you girls up till the last. He claimed to have been flogged at Eton the same day as the Battle of Balaclava.

Rebecca seems to be having a good time: I always loathed parties as a child and indulged in a bit of quiet nose-picking combined with a sulk. Not attractive. If I tried to be amusing I always got punished for ‘showing off’.

Best love to you all from myself and from Nidnod, D P.S. Saw Aunt Pam at Newbury races in a hat she must have bought at NAAFI about 35 years ago. No news of Aunt Boo.

Lupin is now operating a crane in a scrap metal yard and my father just manages to avoid using his best trilby as a po.

Budds Farm

1 January

Dearest L,

Happy New Year! Christmas went off very well, you may be slightly surprised to hear! We did not decide to undertake the trip to Northumberland until Christmas Eve as the roads had been in such a ghastly condition but in fact we had a perfectly easy journey. Jane’s house was beautifully warm and the food was all that could be desired. When the boys got too rumbustious, I retired to the drawing room where there was a huge fire and masses of books. Nidnod was in her best form and Jane is very good with her. Lupin was there too and consumed a great deal of port. We drove home in exactly six hours despite a good deal of fog. The Cringer was quite happy in his kennel and returned home fat and distinctly smelly. Your mother gave me some winter pyjamas for Christmas and I gave her some glasses for Irish Coffee. I went to the new Newbury oculist yesterday: he comes from Newcastle and is rather amusing. I hope he knows his job as he has ordered me some new and peculiar spectacles. Peregrine got on well with Paul’s Labrador but was once nearly devoured by the Siamese cat. We are having a turkey lunch here on Sunday and the Parkinsons are coming to partake of it. We do have original guests! We are off to play bridge with the Surtees tonight. At least we are sure of a good dinner.

Best love to you all,

D

P.S. We celebrated the New Year here with a lot of smoked salmon and a bottle of good hock. Bed 10 a.m.

From a very early age I had a serious crush on my dad’s best friend, Desmond Parkinson, a section head of the secret service. He was a delight to be around – empathetic, complimentary and highly accomplished on the clarinet – and had a number of delightful wives.

Budds Farm

21 January

Dearest L,

We had a terrific storm here last night but most of the roof is still on. Emma LR has been here since Friday and I am happy to say has not changed much! We had a lunch party on Sunday and Emma certainly produced an excellent lunch. Your mother is in very poor form and she and Lupin get on each other’s nerves, almost entirely your mother’s fault as she will nag and aggravate him when he comes home tired at about 8 p.m. each evening. The Randalls ate some bad fish: Mr Randall came out in a ferocious rash, while Mrs Randall’s head swelled to twice its already generous size. Jane seems to be settling down well in her new house. I have not heard of her using her new gun much: at least I have not read about anyone being shot near Corbridge. I have luckily remembered my old Nanny’s birthday: I think she is 88 on Friday and still completely on the ball. There are new people in the post office at Burghclere, rather more agreeable than their predecessors but fairly clueless about their work. Your mother has been unable to hunt lately and that makes her somewhat irritable. Her dog is liable to wake me up in the morning by jumping on my bed and sitting on my face. Luckily he does not smell too badly. We have a lot of rats here and they are eating our potatoes with considerable relish.

Best love to all,

D xx

My father’s nanny was more than a mother to him than his own mother ever was. He was extremely fond of her and kept in touch with her until she died.

Budds Farm

3 March

Dearest L,

I hope all goes well with you. Things are reasonably placid here. Your mother complains of feeling poorly but declines to see a doctor, pinning her faith to some female masseuse in the locality. Because she is unwell her temper is somewhat uncertain and I have to mind my Ps and Qs (whatever they are, I’m not quite sure). We had a lunch party on Sunday which went off quite well although the Thistles’ car broke down and they never got here. Lupin was here and had some brisk arguments with Nidnod. Mark Bomer leaves for France today to study the wine trade near Avignon. The Cringer is much better and has had no more fits of late. Peregrine condescended to get on my lap yesterday but was very sick when he got there. Thanks awfully! Jane apparently enjoyed herself in Devonshire and then at Bath. I rather like Devonshire but have difficulty in keeping awake there. I went to London on Tuesday for a big lunch at the Hyde Park Hotel. I found myself chatting merrily to the Home Secretary and the former editor of The Times so I was moving rather out of my class. Unfortunately I sat next to Sir Gladwyn Jebb, an arrogant old bore who was once our ambassador in Paris. William Douglas Home made a speech but not a particularly good one. I went home by bus and sat next to an Indian who picked his nose with dogged persistence worthy of a nobler cause. Before my bus left I had several glasses of port at Major Surtees’s posh office in Curzon Street. Two days earlier his sherry firm (Garvey’s) was taken over by the Spanish socialist government! Major S. retires in January and hopes to buy a cottage near Marlborough. Mr Parkinson’s elder daughter is back from China and hopes to find work with the BBC. I now do my shopping in Hungerford where car-parking is no problem and the shops are less plebeian than in Newbury. There is rather a good health shop there kept, inappropriately, by a lady who looks on the point of death. She sells nonfattening marmalade that looks and tastes like yellow photo-paste. Good but expensive. A man I saw in church the other day dropped down dead yesterday. Perhaps he did not pray hard enough.

Love to all,

D

My father was not one of life’s great believers.

Budds Farm

14 March

Dearest L,

We are off to Glos today to stay with Mrs Pope for Cheltenham. Nidnod is not at all well, bronchitis and diarrhoea. She spent yesterday jump-judging at Twesledown which probably did not help. Her co-judge was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, something from which her son and daughter are both suffering. Her husband shot himself. Not much news here. 70,000 women demonstrators are expected down here for Easter. There being no loos at Greenham, they leave the Common in a sordid mess. Mrs Surtees is running a takeaway food business; quite good but not exactly cheap. Major S hopes to buy a cottage in Wiltshire. In London last week I drove off in my car, absentmindedly leaving my overcoat on the roof. It went into orbit passing The Ritz and I was lucky to get it back! The Cringer is well but incontinent. A man came to repair my arm chair; he said it would cost over £200 so I told him to go away. Nick Gaselee’s horse Keengaddy won at Sandown on Saturday and it must have a chance in the Grand National. Mr Randall managed to pull down a shelf in my bathroom, breaking various items. I saw Aunt Pam at Sandown; she did not look too good. Uncle Ken’s nose is entirely covered with white hair.

Love to all,

D

Uncle Ken was inflicted by not only a lot of white hair on his nose but also coming out his ears, hence the nickname my daughter gave him: Uncle Whiskers. His wife (Lady D aka The Hamburger) was on the bossy side, like an instructor at the pony club.

The Crumblings

Monday

Dearest Lumpy,

I trust you are all thriving. Lupin stayed here last night. He hopes to drive a juggernaut to Poland this week but as he has no visa I regard him as a non-starter. Your mother enjoyed her trip up to the Tordays’. Jane’s cat sprang on Peregrine and started to eat him but Peregrine’s yells of protest and terror luckily brought his outraged owner to his rescue. Weaver’s Loom was second in a £10,000 race at Cheltenham and thereby earned £2,110 which is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Cousin Tom got mugged in South Audley Street. A man sloshed him on the skull with a length of lead piping and then removed his wallet etc. Tom came round in Middlesex Hospital where he was sewn up, looking a sorry sight. He has to rest at home for 3 weeks. He has taken it very well but after all he is seventy! The garden is very dry and full of dead shrubs killed by the January weather. I saw Aunt Pam at Cheltenham: her breathing is none too good. My old Nanny, Mabel, now aged ninety, sent me a lively post-card from Sturminster Newton where she has been on holiday. She paid a visit to Marnhull. Tell Charlotte B the bathing season will be opening soon. Will she give me a swimming lesson for a small fee? The Parkinsons are just back from the South of France: they had a tricky time with his mother-in-law who kept on asking them out to dinner at expensive restaurants but never had any money with her and Mr P had to cough up for the bill!