Authors: Louise Mortimer
Best love to you all from all of us,
D
P.S. Cousin Caroline sent 3 yearlings at Newmarket. There was no bid for either of the first two but the third made 410,000 guineas! Nice work if you can get it!
Clearly cousin Caroline has all the luck.
Budds Farm
26 October
Dearest L,
Thank you for your letter. Yes, do come down on November 20th. If you bring Chappie please prevent him from using the new dining room carpet as a loo. Also, please stop him attacking Emily, my tame hen, who is usually outside the front door hoping for food. She sometimes follows me into the house. I hope Rebecca has fully recovered and I gather she managed to enjoy her birthday party. Nidnod arrived safely at Jane’s house and is evidently enjoying herself. We went to the Herns’ party on Sunday: mostly stable lads and their girls but the Queen was there too. Otto is in good form but Nidnod spoils him. Luckily he cannot jump up on my bed yet. I have quite a merry time when Nidnod is away as I’m out to lunch and dinner every day. Are you in touch at all with Frank Byrne and his wife? I hear that Lorna had a nasty fall and hurt her arm while Frank has been in Charing Cross Hospital and may have had a mild stroke. Aunt Joan evidently enjoyed her holiday in Crete. We went to the play – The Mikado – done by the local school. The orchestra and the chorus were excellent but none of the principals could sing. One of the boys aged 15 had a beard and looked about 42.
Love to all,
D
Apparently Chappie and Otto justify more comment from my father than hanging out with the Queen.
Budds Farm
26 February
Dearest L,
I hope all goes well with you. I am thankful the winter is almost over though I rather dread having to start gardening again which is now beyond my strength. I long to live somewhere smaller: or perhaps I shall seek refuge in one of the Newbury geriatric homes if I can find enough money. Otto is very well and keeps my feet warm at night. A magpie has just come and raided Emily’s nest, pinching three of her eggs. Your mother blames me for that and thinks I should stand on permanent sentry duty. Incidentally your mother is in very bad form and I think finds me an intolerable burden. ‘There’ll be no moaning at the bar when I put out to sea.’ I went to a cremation at Slough last week. The parson had forgotten or mislaid his teeth and I could not tell if he was reciting the Nicean Creed or giving out the runners for the first race at Kempton. Not much news in Burghclere, but there never is. It is one of England’s most boring villages. ‘The Directory of the Turf’ (price £30) gives the date of my birth as 1090 and spells Burghclere wrong. We are going to the Canaries for a week in April which I dread. I believe it is a concrete jungle with masses of lower-middle-class Germans. Lupin came to lunch a week ago with an uncouth man and an amusing woman whose hair badly needed combing. They arrived an hour late which did not increase the warmth of their reception. I see from ‘The Times’ it is dangerous to drink Chianti if you are taking anti-depressant pills. I went to Kempton on Saturday and had lunch with a charming Italian who hated racing. She was very interested in Otto. Anyway she cheered me up temporarily. Life here is about as hilarious as waiting for a train at Basingstoke on a cold February morning. Gay Tent is lame again and I shall get rid of my share in him as soon as I decently can.
Love to all,
D
My father’s latest horse, Gay Tent, was not a big success and was nicknamed Homosexual Marquee by Lupin.
Budds Farm
10 May
My Dearest L,
V. cold and grey here and the garden is brown and dry. As no doubt Nidnod told you, our holiday was a disaster of the first magnitude. The Canaries are a hideous, treeless dump. We had a bleak sunless room looking out on to concrete. Not a glimpse of the sea. A troop of randy peacocks screeched without ceasing all day. Hordes of fat women from Stuttgart and Düsseldorf sprawled topless round the pool, flaunting bosoms like half-filled hot-water bottles. I never want to see a pair of Teutonic tits again. The food was moderate and the shopping centre slummy. Luckily the Lemprière-Robins were there to have a laugh with. Nidnod had given me hell for not booking for a fortnight; when we were there she could hardly bring herself to stay a week! The flight, both ways, was long and uncomfortable and I really was thankful to get home back to income tax demands and a monumental pile of bills. I have bought a new car (Volkswagen Golf) to economise on petrol. I discovered quite a nice house at Kintbury. When I showed it to Nidnod in ‘Country Life’ she said nothing would induce her to live in a dump like that and she refused to look at it. I went on my own, liked it, and persuaded her to look at it that afternoon. She fell for it in a big way and is now keener than I am! Lupin liked it too. Whether our bid will be sufficient remains to be seen. We saw a house at Hurstbourne Tarrant with a nice garden but really only suitable for a bachelor who does not mind discomfort and does not wash much. Nidnod has a bad cold and is in a very difficult mood. I seem to have a lot of really boring work on my hands. The Randalls’ Golden Wedding went off well. Poor Mr Parkinson seems to be lumbered with his mother-in-law for life. She knocks back a bottle of scotch per day.
Best love to you all,
D
Before moving from Budds Farm to The Miller’s House my parents decided they needed to make some cutbacks. One of these cutbacks was to cancel the Daily Mail, which would have been successful if they had not both driven into Newbury every day to buy one.
Budds Farm
Monday
Dearest L,
I suppose after your recent triumph you are driving all over the country in a large motor-car supplied by Henry’s company. I expect, though, that before long Henry will buy you a nice little motor of your own. I recommend a Volkswagen Golf. Life here is very unsettled and your poor mother is in a very highly-strung condition. Sometimes she seems quite keen on moving, at others she loathes the new house and everything to do with it. She is particularly controversial after 7 p.m. when she is tired! To make things worse Golly is slightly lame and this misfortune is regarded as of world-shattering importance. I have not seen Lupin since he left that peculiar place at Weston-super-Mare in Somerset: I think it is a sort of loony bin. He has to sleep in a dormitory with other nut-cases. I hope he likes it. I hope the ‘cure’ did in fact cure him. Of course he is rather restricted being without a car. I met Miss Vallence at a drink party the other day; she has not changed much. I see Tiny Clapham is one of our hopes for the Olympic Games. It has been very hot and dry here but I’m glad to say we had a few drops of rain this morning. Poor old Lord Carnarvon had a hideous operation in Basingstoke last Wednesday but managed to survive. I think he is 86. Did you see that your mother’s friend Sylvia Bowditch had been left £7,000,000 by the old trout she had lived with for the last 20 years? What will a single woman of 71 do with seven million? I go over to The Miller’s House most days and try and tidy up the garden. The fig tree there has quite a lot of figs on it but I expect the birds will get most of them. Mrs Cameron has been staying here: she is a calming influence on Nidnod and is also very helpful over the house. Both dogs are well (Henry will be disappointed to hear that) and are yapping a lot and biting the legs of visitors to whom they take a dislike. I hope we have sold Budds Farm but no house is sold till the lolly is safely in the Bank. Jane enjoyed her stay in France; luckily the state of their finances permitted them to go to the most expensive hotel in France (or one of the most expensive). There is a veritable forest of rhubarb at the new house. Perhaps they all suffered from constipation. Mr Parkinson’s unsatisfactory step-son has suddenly turned up from Hong Kong and wants to live with him. He is dead unlucky over his relations.
Love to all, D xx
Having failed my driving test for the seventh time my brother Lupin gives me a Valium and I pass on the eighth go. Luckily my driving test took place before my brother booked himself into Broadway Lodge, a drug rehabilitation centre. It was not a sort of loony bin, as my father liked to describe it.
Budds Farm
Tuesday
My Dearest L,
I’m so sorry to hear Rebecca is poorly. It must be a worry for you and I hope the Hospital sorts out the trouble without delay. She looks a very healthy child so I do not for a moment imagine anything serious is the matter. In the meantime, all my sympathy and please give my love to the patient. I hear Jane has run over a motor-cyclist. How very careless of her! I fear she may be rather heavily fined. People are rolling up to look at Budds Farm, most of them very nice. It is fatiguing showing them round but more so for them as Nidnod never stops talking, giving the impression that the property belongs entirely to her and that I am only a lodger. Yesterday some rather nice people called Du Pree arrived at 7.45 p.m. by which time Nidnod was a bit muddled and I heard her say that the cellar was usually under water. Later she was threatening to shoot Jester who had annoyed her in some way. She gave me a very nice picnic basket as a present yesterday morning but by the evening decided I was unworthy of it and she now intends to give it to someone else. Such is life! This morning a very good-looking merchant banker is making a second inspection. He is half Peruvian, half Swedish, is a member of the Turf Club and has had relations at Daneshill & Tudor Hall. The first time he came Nidnod showed him round wearing that old blue bathing dress which is very tight and liable to split at inconvenient places. Lady Mayhew-Saunders came to lunch yesterday with Anna who is very attractive and obviously pregnant. Serena Alexander has had to go to Australia as her mother is v. poorly. We enjoyed the Derby in our posh stand and had a marvellous view. Nidnod thought Willy Whitelaw was the caterer! There were some semi-pissed youths outside the Derby Arms who exposed themselves to young birds in passing cars. As it happens there was a chilly wind and their display aroused contempt rather than excitement.
XXX
D
An absolute classic by my mother. Fortunately Willie Whitelaw (the recent Home Secretary) was too polite to comment.
Budds Farm
18 August
Dearest L,
I hope you are behaving yourself with reasonable decorum in Devonshire. I expect that in fact you are asleep most of the time, the local climate hardly being conducive to vivacity. I suppose you do very little walking or bicycling now that you drive a powerful motor-car. I went on a holiday to Devonshire – possibly Newquay – nearly seventy years ago. I remember nothing about it bar my disgust on finding a dead hen behind our bathing hut. Talking of hens, Emily is coming to Kintbury with us. The move is making progress: your mother is in her element – Order, Counter-Order, Dis-Order! I have done quite a lot of work in the garden. I was having a quiet pee on the rubbish heap when I found our daily standing one yard behind me. Too late to stop! I am showing Major Surtees the house today. He has just bought a house in Wylye (Wiltshire). Mr Parkinson is having a worrying time with all his relations and has chronic indigestion. Aunt Pam is coming to see the house on Tuesday. I can anticipate some sarcastic comments. The General has declined to come. Aunt Pam has a new dog, a King Charles Spaniel. V hot here which is an economy as I need not wear socks. Otto is well; he possesses common human failings, being greedy, randy, cowardly and sly. Perry is getting heavy and pompous. Aunt Boo was on TV yesterday; I assume on some programme dealing with mental instability. I was sorry to hear about your roof leaking. Will the insurance cough up? Insurance companies delight in evading responsibilities. I have just had a bill for nearly £9,000 from Lane-Fox and Co and that is only the start!
Love to you all from both of us,
D
Aunt Boo had been interviewed about one of her many latest obsessions, which included ‘Keep us out of the Common Market’ and ‘Keep Dorking white’. My brother was very kind to her and was her carer for many years. He said that she was one of life’s genuine nutcases. There wasn’t a political party that she hadn’t stood for at one time or another.
The Miller’s House
Wednesday
My Dearest L,
How are you doing? Have you nudged anyone in your car yet? Yesterday I had to go to a funeral at Newmarket. Luckily Sir John Mayhew-Sanders drove me up in his Daimler. I began to chew my knuckles when we did 135 mph on the Cambridge by-pass! The car had a telephone on which my driver rang up the Russian ambassador. In the cemetery I noticed a tombstone with the rather odd name on it of J. Barrington Waterfall. Young Master Mayhew-S asked me if I was opting for burial or cremation. I replied ‘Sanitary Disposal’. The previous day I drove Nidnod to Sandown for lunch with the Directors. She wore a new ginger wig, drank a lot of gin and sat next to a journalist with no hair but a beard like an acre of moss. I sat next to a v rich lady in the insurance business. I thought I got on well with her. She made, I found out, a lot of inquiries about me afterwards. She may have fancied me or she may have been collecting information to pass on to the police. The two dogs are v tiresome, peeing on every stick of furniture and biting visitors to the house. Some visitors look as if they wished there was a lethal chamber operating in Kintbury. Mrs Surtees came to lunch today and your dear mother talked a great deal of balls. Aunt Pam comes to lunch on Sunday, Aunt Joan had a good holiday in sunny Malta. Emma L-R has a steady boy-friend which annoys her mother. Did I tell you Cousin Caroline sold 6 yearlings at Newmarket and got 962,000 guineas? My bath overflowed and has damaged a ceiling, thereby rendering me unpopular. I gave Nidnod a present for her work in moving, i.e. a side of smoked salmon, a stilton cheese, and several jars of honey. I think I saw a picture of Charlotte B in the Tatler.
Best love to you all,
D XXX
The infamous wig. We persuaded our mother to get a real hair wig at great expense. After several outings she announced that it did not do her justice and returned to her nylon wig (cost approx £30), which could go in the washing machine on a 40 degree cycle.