30.11.69 [First paragraph typed with a faint red ribbon, then the rest handwritten]
Dear Mum, you poor old thing! I
didn’t know that you were to have a further operation! Of course I don’t mind
have a hospital-trotting mother, but good grief, have you actually got anything
left that you can have taken away? It’s about time, to my mind, that they
started giving you something back. (Sorry about the red tape, but it’s my theme
song again: the black part of this tape has now completely disintegrated: there’s
a great rip extending itself throughout the entire tape as I type this.) Oh
dear, things have got completely chaotic here and the tape is spreading in
every direction!!
Well, well, back to a more
productive method. I’m just about to go out I think to see an exhibition on Hector Berlioz at the Victoria and Albert Museum. I’ve also got (from the
library) a book of his memoirs that have just come out in this, his centenary
year. This is the first time they’ve been available in a complete version.
Before
Mass at 12 (I don’t go to 10.30 because it’s in Latin and sung) I cut my hair
again ˗ did I tell you before? (that I’d cut it) ˗ it’s more practical at this
time of the year because the barbers are convinced that you need it all off, no matter how cold it is. I’ve
just trimmed it ˗ somewhat roughly at the back I must admit ˗ and left the most
part of it on. Why freeze?? Incidentally, it snowed yesterday (!!) I thought, ‘ugh’
at first, but now, today, that the sun is shining I feel quite happy about it ˗
I must admit it’s quite attractive, and not so cold as it’s been over the last
week.
Angela’s sister has just arrived ˗
she’s homeless at present (been staying with relatives since she gave up her
flat); we’ve got quite a bit of her stuff here already, such as a spare (though
ancient) Hoover, a spare bed, a spin dryer, etc. She looks rather pleasant,
certainly if she’s like Angela she’ll be very nice to have around.
The Crowls are having Nina
problems ˗ she’s not speaking to them (she’s been at Westgate (remember the
Easter seaside bit?) for a week, but is back here for the weekend. I suggested
keeping out of the way until things clear up; she will have to move permanently
shortly anyway, but why she should feel so hurt I don’t know. I suppose it does
mean a loss of some of the comforts of the Woodland Way place, but she could
never have expected to live there forever anyway. [An odd comment: she’d lived there for years already. Sounds like
something Reg might have said.] Reg says it’s the quietest week they’ve
spent for a while. There’s no use my being up there to complicate things at
this weekend ˗ thought Reg says I’m quite a cheerful person to have round,
which is nice of him!
We have a new guy coming to live
at the flat ˗ a sixth! He’ll take
over the present music room, and we’ll shift the piano into the bedroom. [The music room was fairly small;the piano
was shifted in beside my bed, in the large room I shared with David. It was
probably originally intended to be a dining room or lounge.] It’s not
definite yet, however, though probable.
My boss at work gets more
interesting every day˗ I knew he was mad on science-fiction, but he actually
writes short stories as well ˗ and gets them published as well. He was giving
me the outline of one he was writing, at
work, yesterday. Very intriguing.
