December 2, l965
Dearest Mom and Dad,
Both girls are back in school - haven't missed much it seems, as they've practically no make-up work to do!
Scott's glands have finally subsided and the penicillin pills are about gone. He's a bit pale from so many days indoor, so Dr. Bostock wants him to spend the rest of the week building up his strength. It's better to go out on walks with him than spend every day trying to dream up things to do - still, both of us are ready for next week to roll around. He has made a good start on the descant recorder and has done some reading, but there's no substitute for one's friends and a crackajack teacher, which he has. She's young and filled with ideas and has a most marvelous attitude toward her teaching. She really enjoys it.
After a series of rather incredible experiences with Ann and the school flute teacher, who obviously knows nothing about the instrument, we've latched on to the only decent flute teacher in Leicester - a dear old fellow who used to play in the local orchestra (1st flute) but who's now retired. All her insurmountable problems were solved within the first lesson, and he said she was "smashing" to boot! She thinks he's great, so we have ALL fingers crossed and hope it continues as well.
Roger and I went to a Wine Tasting Club buffet (wine-taste-and-dinner) last night. It was mostly faculty people, as its run by same. There were ten wines to sample. One had to hang on to his white wine glass and his red wine glass and the list for comments, so we were a comic spectacle at times! The range was from one or two relatively cheap nondescript wines to some really great ones, especially white ones. We've fallen in love with German wines - can't get enough of 'em!
Scott's standing by, waiting for me to go out with him, so I'll run along. There really isn't much to say anyway! I, too, can't wait for the 17th or 18th or whenever!
Much love,
Mary
* * * * *
December 2, 1965
Dear Granny,
I am sorry I didn't write sooner because last week was very exciting!
Last week on Thursday Scott had a sore throat so Mom kept him home and called the doctor. The doctor didn't come so Mom called again and he said he couldn't find us. So Mom gave him clearer directions and finally he came. He looked Scott over and said that Scott had Scarlatina that lasts for two weeks. Then he said that me and Julia had to stay home for a week.
Then Mom made us go some place and walk three miles home. Here's the places where we went each day. Monday:
St. Nicholas Church and the Jewry Wall. Tuesday:
Newark Houses. Wednesday: THE Market. Thursday: we didn't go any place because it was raining. Friday: THE! Market. Well, that is what happened that week.
There is a girl in my class that was absent one day and came back the next day. So I asked if she had been sick and she said no! Her father had Scarlatina also!!!! Well, that is all I have to say so goodbye!
Love,
Ann
P.S. I wish I could see your colour T.V. and write soon!
* * * * *
December 8th
Dearest Mom and Dad,
Having succeeded in getting all three children back in school and anticipating the many projects I would accomplish while having the house to myself, my good husband announces that he intends to remain at home every day so that he can finish the High School text he's writing for Silver Burdett! Remember that day when I was with you in Summit and Roger joined us with the news that he had finally agreed to work on the text, and we all had a drink and toasted both text and the $-signs we saw dancing in the future?!? He's been plugging away at said project for months, poor dear. I do hope he finishes before Christmas - BUT - I want the house to myself for just one day! So today he was kicked out, and I'm getting many things done in his absence. It's pouring buckets, but who cares when one's spirits are high?!
We dashed over to
Cambridge on Sunday - to King's College Chapel. It was fortunate that we arrived the very moment we did. The weather was as nasty as could be - cold, dark, and exceedingly wet. We opened the heavy door and entered the chapel, which was pitch dark. It was like walking into a movie theater after the house lights have been turned off. We could only vaguely make out the shapes of a verger or two because of their swishing black robes.
Roger walked up to one such shape and said, "We'd like to attend the service." The shape nodded, beckoned us to follow, and swooshed off into the darkness. Roger stumbled after it with his wife clutching his coat-tails, Julia clutching mine, Ann Julia's, and Scott Ann's. We stumbled through the rood screen and into the choir, where we could see people sitting on both sides awaiting the solemn procession by candlelight. We were ushered into the back row on the farthest side, up a step here and another there, knocking into the wooden kneeling benches and crashing into our places. When we were all settled, the silence was so great - and the number of eyes staring at us was so great - that I realized with horror the commotion we much have caused by our grand entrance!
Then followed the most solemn of processions - such dignity, such calm, such apparent reverence! Each in his turn bowed to the altar before entering his pew, yet the altar had no cross! By this time our eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness. In front of each of us was a series of books, huge books, beautifully bound and absolutely ancient. One prayer book was dated 1802, a hymnal 1827, and each one was different!
The service that followed was beautiful. Needless to say, the choir is outstanding. They sang some usual early English things but then did a very good modern "Jubilate Deo" which was sung at a quick tempo (almost never heard in these cathedrals) and done extremely well. The sermon was about St. Nicholas as the day itself was the eve of the feast of - and was addressed to the members of the King's
College
School, all of whom appeared to be present. The children enjoyed the sermon and rightly so; it was good and well done.
And then, before we knew it, the service was over and those black-robed shapes were politely yet firmly ushering us all out. We lingered as long as we could, straining to see the fabulous ceiling in the darkness.
The children got a kick out of being in a place done by and for "Henry the VIIIth I am, I am" (song sung incessantly by Scott last summer from camp) with all the lovers' initials, HR and AB, plus roses and crowns, etc., etc. embroidering every surface but the walls themselves. And then we were out and the doors shut firmly behind us. "Sightseeing from 2:15 to 3 this afternoon." Klonk!
We found a nice enough place to eat, had a delicious dinner, and returned to
Leicester, 1 hour and 45 minutes. At first it felt as though we hadn't really accomplished much, yet, in retrospect, we realize that it packed a punch not soon to be forgotten.
Days of plotting and planning and preparations are almost gone. Soon you'll be here - and by golly but it'll be great!
Together we shall try to Anglicize our Christmas. I'm beginning to get the hang of several of the different customs, so we shall just try them out together.
Thanks for the package. It was just what I wanted. Don't be surprised if Leicester Company #8 has a little meeting for you, say on the 23rd or so.
Bon voyage! We'll be thinking of you all the way, and waving from the window as your train approaches
Leicester - and meet you at the station.
Whoopeeee!
Much, much love,
Mary
* * * * *
December 9, 1965
Dear Mrs. Edgar,
I would like to invite you to a Girl Guide meeting on Thursday the 23rd of December. I hope you will come to our Girl Guide meeting on
Welford Road, Saint Michaels Church Rooms, Knighton, Leicester.
Sincerely,
Ann H. Walmsley
* * * * *
December 14th
Dearest Mom,
We have a hot water bottle for you here -
In case you didn't get my last letter to
Summit, your Mini-Minor is waiting for you but must be picked up before 5. The 2:25 train doesn't allow much time for same, so how about taking the 10:15 a.m. from St. Pancras which arrives at London Road Station, Leicester at 11:49, Saturday noon? Otherwise Roger will be very nervous about your getting your car. These people are so terribly glib about closing when they damned-well feel like it, and it would make the day much more relaxed.
Lv St. Pancras Arr.
Leicester
10:15 11:49
10:25 12:08
12:15 1:46
2:25 4:00
Enclosed is a map to get you here with little difficulty. You'll be driving north on the M-1, I assume. Enter Mary's map on bottom left hand corner. The exit should read "
Leicester via A 46." Turn left (north) onto A 46 and continue for almost exactly one mile through the nondescript community of Blaby, who is having its main street widened. This is a lovely stretch for an alert co-pilot because all streets seem distant (due to street widening) and the
Braunstone Lane East road looks most INsignificant indeed! There is a light there, but still the road looks as though it went absolutely nowhere. But do turn right there, anyway, and you will cross the
Soar
River (if you can see it for its size!) and then the canal (which is bigger) and then you'll come to the red light on
Ayleston Rd. A short left and then immediately right onto
Wigston Lane, around the roundabout and onto
Stonesby Ave., which will go over the tracks. Very shortly thereafter you bear left onto
Shackerdale Rd, which you follow as it winds around and suddenly opens on to a green (grass, a 'common', or what-you-will). Here, it is clear to see, one builder stopped a few years ago and then recently someone else started on the other side but perhaps didn't know what to do with the middle - so they planted grass and wound a street through it - all very uninspired, but get to the other side and follow straight ahead onto
Aberdale Rd. As you approach
Welford Rd (main thoroughfare - can't miss) you'll see
Cairnsford Rd on your left just shy of
Welford Rd. - take same. Dog's leg to the right and forward onto Woodcroft, and you'll dead-end into Skelton. We're across the street and to the right. Pull up right next to the fence at the dead-end, and you won't even need parking lights! Great! We'll be waiting!!
We think it would be ideal to go to
Coventry the next day - it's so exciting to attend a service there!
See you very soon!
Much love,
Mary
January 10, 1966
Dearest Unk,
Would that this were there instead of here on January 10th! Happy Birthday!
When last I wrote, I had my hair piled high upon my head and was feeling most un-ME-like! That night I went over to Dorothy's house to plan the Guide meeting to be held for Mom. Both Dorothy and Lesley said they liked my hairdo; I hope so, for they stared at me all night long!
We had to decide what kind of a meeting to have, first of all. Do we invite Miss Briggs, the local International Representative who was greeted in NYC by GBE several years ago? If so, we would then have to include the other big brasses and the whole company would be terrified! Fortunately, my good husband's parting words to me that evening were "NO Miss Briggs;" so with that introduction both Capt. and Lt. readily agreed: no Miss briggs. The meeting would be as normal a meeting as possible - not even Christmas carols.
The rest of the evening was spent with feet spread toward the crackling fire, chatting amiably about all sorts and manner of things. Both Dorothy and Lesley were quite depressed over the last meeting, and rightly so. The whole company seemed to fall apart at the seams during patrol time. In addition to that, the Guide working for her Queen's Guide had been most apathetic and even rude with regard to the great effort put forth by the Capt. to push this girl on to said award. Evidently there had been a drastic change in attitude over the last few weeks, so much so that neither Capt. nor Lt. were feeling that she deserved this highest award in Guiding.
Another guide had been showing up only for those meetings she thought would be to her benefit, such as the one before the weekend camping expedition or the one before Christmas when there would most likely be snacks (there weren't! - haven't seen any so far either, and it's great). The Capt. had spoken with this girl at the meeting and laid it on the line; since then she has attended regularly, at times without uniform, but present nevertheless.
We even managed to talk about
Coventry! I realized all too clearly how excited I get when I do talk about it because it IS exciting! Dorothy and Lesley were both very interested as both are devout Christians and
Coventry is very near to home.
The next three days were my last days to complete Christmas preparations and shopping before Mom and Dad arrived. Ann managed a flute lesson on Tuesday but then came down with a strep throat, so we all smiled weakly, realizing we just well may have sickness through the holiday. Damn!
Friday afternoon we were to go to Scott's school and sing Christmas carols for his class. Now, instead of being a "family choir", we were down to a trio (Scott had laryngitis). Nevertheless, we went on with the show. Miss Cade, Scott's teacher, is young, enthusiastic, filled with ideas and most creative in her methods of stimulating her pupils. When I went in after school to get homework during
Prescott's illness, she and I got to talking . She was all hepped up on the Trapp Family. The movie has been in town (sell-out crowd daily) for weeks and weeks. When reading the book, she had been fascinated to think it was all real. Well, when she learned that I knew them personally, she flipped and signed us on!! Real cute. Roger wasn't so sure. We went anyway.
We were scheduled to go on at 3:30. It was already getting dark. She had the classroom darkened - lit by candles.
Prescott stood with us and croaked softly, Julie did herself proud holding the soprano while Rog and I filled in. Miss Cade introduced us as "friends of the Trapps - you know who they are," etc., etc., etc. Roger looked absolutely pale! The kids were thrilled. I spoke about each piece before we sang, so that they listened most attentively. We did all right, "A.O.K." as they say in space. It was hugely successful.
Prescott was the idol of all. He swaggered and beamed and tossed it off with a flourish. Jolly good!
That night Roger and I went to a dance at the Senior Common Room of the University. Our Big Bash of a Ball was to follow the next night, so we didn't expect much of this. The price was SO reasonable, we figured it couldn't be too fancy. Well, it was lovely! It was held in the refectory with upholstered chairs and tables around the spacious dance floor with the dinner tables set at the far end of the room. The music was live and good. Marian and Mac Whitaker came over and shared a corner with us. He's a most delightful (anthropologist? archeologist?) who's headed for sunny
California come March. They're both great company and had joined us at the Wine Tasting Club evening as well. They taught us all the folk dances that everyone did, which was great fun. We chatted and laughed, danced, ate and had a marvelous time.
The Big Bash the next night was just as advertised. We'd been invited by Michael and Shirley Wilks, the friends of friends of friends who had a lovely dinner party for us in the fall - another great young couple. Michael is in the Territorial Army, and this was its Christmas Ball. They had invited us to their house first, so off we went, leaving here at 8 o'clock in the evening. The minute we walked in the door (at 8:45) champagne was offered to us. We soon realized that all of the people we had met there before were present, plus some news faces. Long dresses were the attire for the women, uniforms for the men - most colorful and dashing! At 9:30 or so Shirley ushered us all into the dining room where a most scrumptious feast was awaiting us, an extensive and gorgeous and delicious buffet! I smiled at Roger and he smiled at me - we were to be served dinner at the dance! Oh well! When in
Rome ...... So we ate and chatted, and it was lovely.
At about 10:30 we piled into our cars and headed back to
Leicester to the dance, along country lanes with only parking lights on! They figured that with one friendly car ahead and one behind we couldn't get lost, and NO ONE in
Great Britain turns on their headlights unless they have to! It was a dream. Roger and I knew not where we were, and we were laughing so hard we couldn't have found out if we'd tried! And then, suddenly, we had arrived. There was this huge building with lines of cars all queuing patiently - no one was about to miss his chance of having that doorman snap to attention, Hut, hut, hut, and open the door for his wife! We watched in fascination. Fabulous. What a sight! Then it was my turn. Hut, hut, hut. Open door and swoosh! - I was inside and on my way up to the cloakroom.
The Armory had been decorated a la Arabian Nights. The ceiling had been lowered with black something-or-other and the exits and entrances made a la arabs' tents. The menu was in arabic (looks like physics!). There were TWO bands, real good beat, too - but NO ONE knew what to do with it. They either go out onto the floor and blub along or they stand and shake self-consciously - like frug or watusi - only this was no more than wiggle and shake (a good reason for being self-conscious). More champagne, except all these guys add brandy to give it a better kick!!!
We danced for a short while; then dinner was announced. We went through a tent and into another wing of the building. The dinner was almost exactly what Shirley had served only not half as good. And then the gentlemen in our party started throwing food - elementary laws of ballistics as demonstrated with a roll or pea from the end of a spoon. When it got pretty bad and the waitresses were tripping over the crud on the floor, my neighbor excused himself and disappeared, returning a few moments later wearing some general's hat (filched temporarily from the coat room!) in order to pull rank and chew these food-throwers out! Many laughs, but not from the general, who evidently had seen his hat coming and going. The neighbor then borrowed the little lace cap of the waitress herself, but by that time it was time for the next shift of diners, and so we were asked to return to the dance floor.
Roger and I found an odd corner and danced the cha-cha's and mambo's happily until we were absolutely exhausted, bade farewell to our charming host and hostess, and left this dream-world to the reality that within hours Mom and Dad would be with us in
Leicester,
England!
As train time approached, Roger was already at the London Road Station awaiting their arrival. We heard a train coming, opened the windows and waved all the school scarves we have! Wave! Wave! Wave! It seemed to take that train forever to come and then disappear beyond the far end of the playing fields! One feels so foolish out in one's backyard waving madly at a train with tears of joy and excitement running down one's cheeks! But they HAD seen us, we found out later. Welcome, welcome, welcome, Mom and Dad!
Scott had gone off to the stadium to play with Mark all day, so we had a more quiet but happy lunch with lots of news-catching-up and pictures of Thanksgiving for us to see. We then proceeded to the Heathfield for Dad's nap - and plenty of comments about "this-raw-pulp-toilet-paper-that-leaves-splinters-and-please-put-Delsey-on-your-shopping-list-this-afternoon" in a loud voice in the corridor!
Mom, Rog, and I proceeded downtown to get their car. As we drove in the lot, we saw a bashed-in Mini sitting sadly in the corner. "Say, Mother," says Rog, "There's your car!" Ha ha. It probably was, but obviously they couldn't let her have it, so she was given a Corsair at Mini-rates! Can you beat that? The job remained for her to drive it back through
Leicester at 5 o'clock of a Saturday afternoon, the thick of Christmas shopping one week before the 25th, pitch dark and pouring rain! Roger bravely said, "Follow me." I offered to keep my eyes glued for zebras, which were impossible to see in the dark and driving rain. The windshield wipers went scrape-scrape-scrape-scrape. Traffic kept pouring past. My head was resting on the dash lest we miss a zebra and be accused of pedestrian polo, and Mother just drove - a magnificent demonstration of "It CAN BE DONE!" We got Dad from the hotel, went home, and had a drink!
By the next morning the rain had stopped, but there was water everywhere. Julia and Scott offered to keep Ann company here while the rest went to
Coventry. It was a beautiful trip - the sun peeking through every now and then but otherwise that nice after-the-rain look. The service at
Coventry was slightly different than usual in that the entire Sunday School was elsewhere having a special service. Nevertheless, it was great. We stopped between Blaby and Aylestone on the way home for some picture-taking of flooded fields and donkeys.
The next day was bright sun - too good to miss- so to hell with Christmas shopping et al and away Mom, Dad, and I went to the
Charnwood
Forest for explorations. We stopped in Anstey by the
Pack
Horse
Bridge built for William III's visit to Bradgate - near a marvelous view where the ridge-and-farrow fields are clearly visible. It really is incredible to think that those ridges, made so long ago, are still so numerous absolutely everywhere - and to think of being a lowly farmer and having one row here and one row there. I wonder how each peasant marked his row so that no one else would think it his by mistake! We found a most friendly bakery in Anstey where we purchased Scott's birthday cake, then continued our exploration of
Beacon Hill, Ulverscroft Priory ruins, and the Charnwood forest in general.
Taking Annie with us, the next day we tried but failed to find the field of the battle of Bosworth but did find the ruins of the
castle of
Kirby Muxloe. "Kirby" is derived from a Danish personal name; Muxloe is a corruption of muckless, referring to a reputation of the area in times long since past of a local shortage of muck for the fields!
Scott, poor dear, was forced to have a family birthday party because of Ann's ill-health, but we had a gala time - hats, poppers, blowers, presents, decorated cake, and much fun and frolic. He went to bed a very happy 9-year-old boy!
We managed to catch Bob Pritchard and his darling boys for a cup of tea before they went to
London for the holidays. John and Simon were both fascinated with Scott's magnets and Corgi cars and trucks and played quite happily on the floor most of the while.
Julia had given her all in her school choir concert at deMontfort Hall the night before and was completely engulfed in a cold, so she had to miss the evening of evenings: dinner at the Heathfield Hotel! Roger and I couldn't for the life of us figure why Dad was so insistent on having a good, stiff drink before we left when time was so short (due to the Pritchards' late departure), but all was abundantly clear later on - he KNEW what it would be like and he wanted us to be protected, too! I suppose one might say the menu was too typically British, although Rog and I hadn't come across it as yet - boiled fish and boiled vegetables and I forget what for dessert. It was an experience.
I'm about to be interrupted.... will continue tomorrow.
Much love,
Mary
* * * * *
January 11, 1966
Dearest Unk,
To continue - where were we? Ah, yes - just a few days before Christmas, the day the Guides had been planning for: December 23rd.
We arrived at the grim St. Michael's church rooms on the
Welford Road only a little late - as usual! (6:30 is an absolutely IMPOSSIBLE time to have a Guide meeting!) Both Dorothy and Lesley were completely relaxed, which was a wonderful break; they're always good company, but their Guide meetings are always more relaxing and enjoyable when they are enjoying themselves thoroughly as well.
At my request, the meeting started off with the usual inspection. I think the military aspect of calling the meeting to order, having inspection, and a collection of "subs" is delightful, has charm, and gives the meeting "personality"! This was followed by a game - what game? - why, "Cat and Mice," the game that one girl will request every single time no matter how many others are sick to death of it! During all this noise and confusion, the Capt. chatted with Mom about all sorts of things, which was very nice (the Lt. always "does" the game).
Then came the notices. For this all sat in a circle on the floor except for two chairs - for GBE and MEW - most awkward. The Capt. and Lt. announced that during the holidays there would be no regular meeting but that each patrol would go on an expedition! Great! The conditions were: minimum of 3 miles, must cook something hot over open fire en route, must bring foot print of an animal and 4 bark-rubbings home from the outing, must present itinerary to Capt at next meeting. Points would be given each patrol for originality of expedition and quality of print and bark rubbings. They all busily wrote this down - no questions, no complaints!
Patrol time was then given so that plans could be made for said expedition. They seemed to work hard at it while we Guiders gabbed on the sidelines. Another circle was formed, this time with all 4 grown-ups on chairs (much better), and Mom told the Guides about Princess Margaret's visit to GSUSA Headquarters in NYC, of escorting her across busy 3rd Avenue, of her elevator ride up, of being welcomed by a choral "Hello," of the exhibits, of the "Will Ye N'ae Come Back Again," the newsmen, the ride down in the elevator, looking around for the escort, and whoosh - she was gone! The Guides were fascinated. Mom did a wonderful job of telling it. I don't often have a chance of watching her in action, particularly with the young girls, but she was complete master of this situation - absolutely great.
Then the girls performed for her, each patrol having 3 minutes. One patrol did a skit on camping when the tent fell down in the middle of the night (actually happened to 8th
Leicesters not long ago); another patrol did a hanging of one of the Guides - an attempted suicide, actually, because she hadn't received a Christmas card from Capt! The other two patrols did some not-too-good charades.
The mood quickly changed as we sang some songs, over here that's called "Campfire", finishing with a couple of prayers and then Taps with bowed heads at the words "God is nigh." Everyone went home feeling very happy that night. It had been a good meeting - just what we had all hoped to treat Mom to.
I had bitten off a bit more than I could chew with regard to Christmas presents, but Dad bailed me out! I had started making recorder cases for both Julia and Roger, had carefully dug out all the foam rubber and cut the felt insets, but hadn't gotten to the gluing, and the clock was still ticking. So Christmas eve morning Dad and I buried ourselves up in my bedroom with a space-heater and a tin of glue and just kept going until it was done! We made it, but it's lucky Dad was here because I simply could never have done it alone.
After naps we drove over to
Peterborough for the 3 p.m. Carol Service and Procession to the Crib. It was a beautiful service. That choir may be small, but they are crack-a-jack - really good. And
Peterborough will always be one of my very favorite cathedrals; it's so very
Norman, so beautiful and unspoiled, and the people have always been so very kind. We spoke to Rev. Cartwright after the service, and he remembered us from previous visits. (He was the one who saw us looking at King Edgar's stained glass window last fall and came over to explain all about it to us.) He told us of a record the choir had recently cut and how to go about obtaining one. They are only making 100 - if they do more, they'll have to add 25% tax! - so we'll be lucky to get one. I hope we do get one. I'd rather have/hear those voices than King's College Chapel Choir!
On our way home from
Peterborough I stopped in at the North's because I just had a hunch about my pork pie! Both Mr. and Mrs. North had insisted that Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a pork pie - and how many pounds would I like??? Well, to be honest, we had tried a pork pie once and it hadn't gone over too happily, but I never have the heart to let them down, so I answered: "Two, please." "TWO!" says Mr. North, "Why, Mrs. Walmsley, let's see now, you'll be having two more than usual this Christmas and I shouldn't think a 2-pound pie would go very far ....." And so forth and so on. I couldn't tell him how my children had made faces over it. Trying to be as diplomatic as possible, at great length I did finally manage to have him order a 2-pound pork pie! He had also ordered a 21-pound Dickie Bird for us fresh from the farm. He and "the Mrs." had gone out to select it when it was young, but she couldn't bear to return later to verify it's proper plumpness! Wrinkling her nose she said, "Ooo, Mrs. Walmsley, I just couldn't," Well, so back to Christmas eve - the Dickie Bird had been delivered, my groceries as well, but no sign of a pork pie! By now Mom and I had planned around it, so in I went. Well, somehow or other he had put it on the order sheet (I had witnessed that) but had failed to note "for whom", so that it had been given to someone else. Such a flap I ne'er did see. Mr. North was about to run around to some of the houses and see whether or not someone could spare it on our behalf, but, fortunately, I spied 3 3/4-pound pies on the counter and tried desperately to insist that these add up to approximately the same poundage and would do very well indeed. It took some doing and some time for the doing of it, but at last I succeeded in arriving home for the Christmas holidays with sufficient pork pie for all!! I hasten to add, we ate it cold, as we were told (in spite of what common sense advises) and ALL enjoyed it thoroughly. Were we to be here another year, we just might jolly well tolerate a 4-pound pork pie!!!
Merry Christmas!
Love,
Mary
January 11th, l966
Dearest Unk,
One of the local traditions that just didn't come off was the bit about "popping in" on all your friends on Christmas Eve. When Barbara first mentioned this to me, I couldn't believe it. Christmas Eve for us has always been a very special evening when the hustle and bustle has ended, we've been to a service at church, had a simple dinner, set out the milk and cookies for Santa, sung some carols and read a story about Christmas and tucked the children in - so how could one possibly go "popping in" on everyone? The answer is simple - no church, no carols, no Christmas story. Okay, we're in
England, so "pop in."
Well, we finished supper and straightened everything up and started waiting. We waited and waited. Finally Mom and Dad decided to go along, as it was nearing ten o'clock. Peter finally called at 10:30 to say, "Can we come for a half an hour?" Roger politely informed him that it's for sure we'd all be asleep! So they came right away, bringing Shakib with them (Iranian student who lives next door and spent Christmas with them). They brought in gifts for us all but wouldn't sit down - neither would they leave, nor would they have a drink standing up! They were tired and harassed. We were tired. Oh, dear. Then they left. We couldn't give them the presents we had for them since we had planned to sing carols for Vicky (Mrs. Whitmore, Barbara's mother who lives with them) as her present; so they left empty-handed with us saying "May we pop in on you tomorrow afternoon?" "What time?" "Well, when would you like?" (no one schedules Christmas Day) - and on and on.
We ended up going over late afternoon after our dinner and theirs but without Roger because he sure wasn't feeling too well. Such a farce! But we went anyway and Popped In. We sat down and accepted a drink - cheerfully. Then we asked Peter to open his present, his trophy for Scaleletrix, "The P.G.W. 12-volt Classic 1965 Champion" - and then Mark his "Pint Size Champ for the P.G.W. 12-volt Classic" - all gold painted over papier mache! Peter was thrilled. Mark, I think, would have preferred a toy. Sorry. Barbara was delightful as she opened her American foods, saw Aunt Jemima's pancake mix and exclaimed in a real midwestern accent, "Only 35 cents!"
Our own Christmas in the morning was most delightful. We stretched it out as long as we could, opening one package at a time and reading all the poetry pertaining thereto aloud, never realizing that Roger felt really wretched, poor fellow, and was just hanging on waiting for it all to end so that he could go back to bed! By noon he made it.
The house became so quiet after a brief luncheon that Mom, Ann, Scott, and I took a walk over to
Knighton
Park while everyone else slept. Hardly a sign of life anywhere. Very quiet. Very nice.
I'm going to enclose the poetry of the occasion, be it ever so humble, in order that this English Christmas be fully recorded.
Love,
Mary
To Rog from Dad:
When you and Mary dancing go,
With waving hair and tuxedo,
The Twist, the Frug, Watusi, Shake -
These mermaids will the prizes take.
(suspenders (braces) with lovely mermaids smiling at the world in a semi-recumbent position!)
To Mary:
Old
London in fog, Big Ben on the Wold,
The Trefoil itself orbits the World.
But as gracious a smile, a spirit as yours
To All of us "Merrie Christmas" assures.
(Big Ben tea towel plus book on the World Association)
To Roger from Mother and Dad:
When it's dripping with fog,
You can just skip the Pub
And savour your grog
At home, in this mug.
(beer mug from
Sweden - handsome one, too.)
To Mary from Roger:
Down in Churchgate in a window basking
Lay Joan Baez, to be had for the asking!
(collection of her songs)
To Julia from her Mom and Dad:
No more squeaks and no more whistles -
Just plain genuine trills and twittles.
(a good soprano recorder)
To Julie from Granny and Grand-dad:
In green, here's the latest
Bikini
Designed to make you look skinny.
Swaddle you up and keep out the cold,
But attract the gents both young and old.
(green longies and vest with lace!)
Roger to Mary:
Here is a specimen of the only animal known
To man that would turn itself inside out
To live in an igloo!
(fur-lined boots)
To Dad from Scott:
Sometimes we need you, but this time
you need us.
(saxophonist's strap for bass recorder)
