Champagne-sur-Loue, [May 1963?]
Well,
Ive got a few minutes and one sheet of paper, so I'll have to hurry
and find another time. I'm in bed and it's 9:50 At Night. Thanks for
the two notes and long greens I received today, Henry, and in case I
haven't already done so, thanks for your recent letter too, Mum. You
said you'd seen my letter in the Croydon
Advertiser.
You don't really mean to say they printed it, do you? I read
something in last week's Advertiser
after I sent my letter, a glorious letter on the subject which was
exactly what I said and far briefer and better worded, as it
obviously never occurred to me that they print it, and you could have
not me down with a feather when I read your letter! I do hope Gran
sends the Advertiser
tomorrow because I've never seen my name in print before. It makes a
contrast with "Easybeat", doesn't it!
I don't know quite have I don't know how to take it and whether or not
it's a good thing, but the people here accuse me of being a
chatterbox and say I never stop talking for two minutes together, and
it's a good job Julie doesn't know French as she would never get a
chance to get a word in edgeways with me around. Still, it's a good
thing really, isn't it? I mean, I learn better like that don't I?
They keep telling me I've made startling progress since Christmas,
and some of them are so gushing in their statements that it was quite
embarrassing. I only hope it's true!
I've
done a great deal of biology recently and have finished the digestive
system, and then now doing the skeleton, which I've not touched for
four years and I only did very briefly anyway, so it's like starting
from scratch and very difficult. I've spent the day drawing thoracic,
lumbar and cervical vertebrae, full of weird things like articulation
facets, neural arcs, epines, canals and epiphysis of centrum. Well
you can see for yourselves how hard it is to learn just from that
can't you. [...] I'm going to sleep now, so will continued in the
morning.
Next
day.
It's
now 7:30 or a bit after. I'm going to have a shower in a minute and
as usual Julie is still snoring. I've sent off her plane ticket, and
this time it's been changed again because Sœur Martine's cousin
can't manage to meet Julie, so she is going to Sœur Jeanne
Catherine's cousin who's also called Jill. [...] Anyway she is the
woman I was who is most awfully nice and took me all round Paris,
showing me all the places, and she will probably do the same for
Julie. She can't speak much English but her 18-year old son Claude
can speak a considerable amount. It was he that took me to the air
terminus when I was there, and he is everso nice and most awfully
polite. I know Julie will be ok with them and she will be able to see
a bit of Paris as well, which she otherwise would never see. I have
sent Julie's photo to her, and told her what Julie will be wearing,
so she should find that ok, just as I did, and I didn't have the
faintest idea what she looked like.
Anyway,
doubtless you would like to know which day she's coming on. Well, as
Madame Duront isn't in Paris for the weekends, it had to be a
weekday, but I've asked for Julie's ticket for the 9th or 10th which
is next Thursday or Friday but expressed my preference for the
Friday, which is easier for me here. I hope that's ok with you. Julie
with arrive at London airport by 23:00 although by the time she's got
through the customs it will be about 15 minutes later. Can you meet
you at the airport or would you sooner she caught the bus to the air
terminus and you met her downstairs where the coaches arrive just a
few minutes after midnight? By the way do you think you could
possibly manage to send me a ten shilling note because I want Julie
to have some English money when she arrives, and I needn't bother to
get the 10 shillings changed. If you can't manage any more, then I'll
not get one of the pound notes changed.
Did
you know that there are only 43 days left before I come home? It's
nearly all gone already! It doesn't seem very long, does it?
Unfortunately the weather here isn't marvellous, in fact to tell the
truth, it's pouring with rain and has been for the last two days.
On
May 1st it was a fete in France and the girls did no work. We all
went for a long walk in the afternoon and I took a few photos. We
went into the woods and get some lily of the valley, as everyone in
France wears it and gives it to people on the 1st of May to bring
good luck. I had some given to me by Madame Servant, but Julie swiped
it for her bedroom because it smells nice. She's got quite a lot
actually because we found several bunches, although it is still a bit
early for it. My bedroom at the moment is glorious, being crammed
full of pink lilac that I found growing wild in the Clos. It is very
pretty and smells heavenly. Everyone that enters the room remarks how
wonderful it smells and looks. I have two huge punches, one on a
stool at one end of the room and the other on my bedside dressing
table. Julie is very jealous but the ground is too wet to go and get
any more at the moment.
Later.
Well
I'm just off to take my English lesson. They already know dozens of
words but keep forgetting them, so I'm giving them a revision lesson,
with perhaps a test. Julie is coming to the lesson but I don't know
how she will find it. I got your letter today, Henry, and the quid.
[...] Thanks a lot, we've got Julie's fare home ok by now.
I
also got the Advertiser
from Gran, and saw my letter. It's the first time I've ever seen my
name in print, and they gave my letter a big heading, and it was one
of the chief subjects. It looked quite good didn't it? I never
dreamed they'd actually publish it! Sœur Martins is delighted to see
the address, which is all she can understand of it, and is already
preparing for the influx of British tourists, or so she says. I also
got a letter from Diane. [...] Anyway, the bell has just gone, so
I'll be off.
Later.
Well
the lesson is finished, and it went down very well indeed and really
cheered me up. Julie came, and I just made them repeat words over and
over again, and Julie repeated them in French, so it was quite good
and we all enjoyed it a lot.
This
morning Sœur Martine wanted to take Julie and me for a ride in her
car, but unfortunately I had a French lesson and we couldn't go.
Still perhaps another day. The weather was a bit better today but
still too cold to go around without a thick jumper. I was up to my
ears in phalanges tibulas, metatarsals and various other bones when
Francoise said that a monsieur was going to wait in the bureau to
speak with a nun. I cleared up a bit and carried on working,
expecting the usual middle-aged chap but you could have bowled me
over with a feather when I looked up and saw two gorgeous hunks of
French manhood in the doorway. [...] We had a gossip and Danielle and
Francoise have been teasing me all afternoon. They must have been
nice lads because they had a day off work and used it to help the
nuns put up the fences in the club which have got knocked down during
the weather winter, and they did it all free of charge as well. When
we went to get a coffee at lunchtime from the Convent, we discovered
that the nuns had invited them to dinner and they were patiently
sitting there while one of the nuns read the life story of St
Bernadette aloud after lunch for the daily holy story. It's the first
time I've ever seen drainpipes [trousers] inside Convent walls. Still
I don't think it was quite right of the nuns to invite them into
lunch, do you? They really ought to be careful - why didn't they send
them to eat with us?
I've
been going around for the last week chanting the words of Sacha
Distel disc "Mon beau chapeau", and when I got back from
taking the girls for a walk I discovered an old straw hat on the
table with a goose feather in it and my name and address inside. It
was obviously Francoise who did it, and it gave us a terrific laugh.
I went around all day wearing it the singing "J'ai mis une plume
a mon chapeau, Pour voir l'air plus rigolo", and then making all
the actions of the song. By the way I'm in bed and it's late at night
now.
The
other day Françoise punctured the bike and Monsieur Servant couldn't
mend it and had to buy a new inner tube so we'll all have to club
together to pay for that. I can't remember if I mentioned Sœur
Martine was annoyed about us going out on the bikes. Well she just
gave us a lecture, saying that we were to ask her next time, even if
the girls did say we could borrow their bikes, because if anything
happened to the bikes or us, she was responsible. Then we all forgot
the nagging and started cracking jokes again. I suppose Sœur Martine
was right, but if a girl says you can borrow her bike, you would not
think it necessary to ask Sœur Martine as well, would you? She says
the girls are not responsible for their bikes though, and she is.
Oh
well, never mind. I'll sign off and go to sleep with the glorious
sweet smell of my pink lilac perfume in the air.
[Champagne-sur-Loue,
5 May 1963]
It's
just after lunch Sunday afternoon and Julie and I are sitting in the
Clos in blazing sunshine. We don't really want to go for the walk
with the girls this afternoon because they always go in a regimented
crocodile, and neither Julie not I are ones for hurrying, as you
doubtlessly are aware. Julie has got a bit of a cold and feels rough,
so we may use that as an excuse and spend the afternoon here instead.
Yesterday
we went for a walk to Moulin Bleu, a tiny Village on the Loue not far
from here. When we got there the first thing we saw was a pony with a
day-old foal that couldn't stand up properly and kept falling over
its long legs. Honestly it was so cute! We stood watching it for
hours.
Thanks
for your other letter which I got yesterday, Henry, and I received
all the letters ok, with the four quid and the two from Mum, making
six in all. We were upset to hear about the Gogglebox [breaking down.
[...].
I
also got Julie's plane ticket back yesterday, and I'm now in a
position to give you the complete story with all necessary
information. That is, Juloie's coming home on Friday 10 May on the 10
p.m. flight from Paris. She'll arrive at London airport at 11 p.m.
[...] Go to the air terminal in Cromwell Road to meet her she'll be
there a quarter of an hour either side of midnight. I'm not sure
exactly wwhen, but I think at 12:15 which will be Sunday morning. You
will meet her downstairs where her bus arrives. You may as well get
in practice anyway, because five weeks from then and it'll be the
same performance again, for I can assure you I have no intention of
heaving my luggage around London all evening after having lugged
across the continent all day.
Julie
will leave by the Mouchard train very early Friday morning and I'll
go with her as far as Dijon and see her onto the express for Paris.
Then I'll go and look around Dijon, which I'd never seen, and Judy
will hare off to Paris. In Paris at midday she'll meet the woman who
I was with, and go to her place for lunch. After lunch she will show
Julie around Paris for a bit and see her on her bus for the airport
at 8 p.m. after giving Judy dinner in the evening. She's a really
nice woman as are all her family.
By
the time I get home you may even have got a remark or two out of
Julie about the place. She honestly hasn't told me a thing since I've
been here. Every time I ask a question she says "I can't
remember" or "I didn't notice" or "Nothing
important" or else "Oh, I don't know" and then she
gets annoyed when I tell her she must go around with her eyes shut.
[...]
Today
the place is overrun by visitors because, for some reason that nobody
has yet bothered to explain to me, parents from all over Jura have
come to a meeting here, complete with little kids. There are about 26
adults and hordes of kids under five. They're all whiners, everyone
of them, and have been driving me mad. I've really felt like dropping
boiling oil or something on them. They are okay when they're not
yelling but they seem incessantly to be shrieking for their mums, and
boy it's really awful! They have now invaded the Clos and are chasing
the sheep around. Hurray they've all gone, peace at last!
Judy
just got the portable radio and we're sitting listening to
"Movie-go-round". I finished my over-blouse today so as
soon as I get some Buto or Veet I can start to catching the sun.
[...]
Later.
Julie
and I didn't go for a walk after all. We installed ourselves in the
kitchen after snoozing in the sun for a couple of hours. We listened
to the radio, snoozed, watched the sheep and Julie jabbered away to
me in French. [...] I have just been asked to take an hours study,
and so here I am, stuck in here, with the sun blazing down outside,
and Julie is all on her Todd. She is going for a half hour walk on
her own, and then I will wash her hair for her this evening. [...]
I'm
hoping tomorrow will be nice as well as I'm hoping to take Julie for
a cycle ride to Salins-les-Bains 14 miles away, and to take a picnic
lunch with us, coming back in the evening.
Yesterday
I found an old wooden clog or, as they are called in France, sabot.
They are very old and only used in the country, although now it's
very rare indeed to see them. Anyway, I asked Sœur Martine if she
wanted it and she didn't, so I'll be bringing it home with me. I've
washed it out, and at the moment it's in my bedroom full of flowers.
It looks lovely and I thought when we had come home I would get Henry
to nail it to the door and in summer we could fill it with flowers
and it would look nice. What do you think? [...]
Besançon,
8 May 1963
At
the moment Julia and I are in a park near the station, Besancon
station that is. By the time you get this I expect Julie will be home
or, if I post it in a minute, you will get it Friday morning.
Julie
and I felt a like seeing a bit of Besancon and making the most of her
last week. Therefore, as I didn't have any lessons to take this
morning, we came on the 9 a.m. train for the day arriving about 9:45.
We looked around the shops until midday, and then climbed up on the
city walls for lunch. We had a picnic and then came down again to the
town and looked around the shops and bought various odds and ends,
and then went for a walk by the river Doubs. Then we went back to the
town for a while and then made our way back to the station. We had an
hour to wait, so found a shady spot and prised the lid off a bottle
of lemonade I bought. Honestly, we have hardly had a thing to drink
all day and, boy, were we thirsty!
An
old boy of about 80 has been gossiping with us, dead annoying, and he
just wouldn't go away. He wanted me to be his girlfriend, and was
very upset because Julie wouldn't talk to him. I did all I could to
get him to go away but he was gossiping for nearly fifteen minutes.
No
more news - don't forget Cromwell Road. Friday night.
A
park bench, Dijon, 10 May 1963.
Doubtless
Julie will by this time have told you of our escapades, but if not I
will inform you now, for we all know what Judy is, don't we?
Especially when it comes to imparting news of any kind!
Well,
I've just left Julie on the train, had my lunch, and looked around
the shops and the cathedral and art museum, and I'm now having a rest
in a park. I do hope Julie is okay.
the
French railways are absolutely awful, honestly they are! Up with Dr
Beeching. that's what I say. The train for Dijon arrived about three
quarters of an hour late, dawdled all the way here, and arrived
nearly one hour after the Paris expressed had left. Julie was meant
to be met off that train, so what could I do? So I trotted along to
the information bureau and explained the situation, and they were
very obliging. They told me another train was due in an hour and a
half, and I said I had the woman's phone number, could they ring
through for me and explain because I had never used the phone in
France. This they did, but without any success, as there was no
answer. They found a member of their staff who spoke English to
discuss whether it will be better to send a telegram, but I spoke
French better than she spoke English, so we talked in French nearly
all the time, and she's made me promise to go and see her before I go
home in June and to write to her, so she can practice her English
more. They were mostly obliging people and went to no end of trouble.
Eventually though they did get through, and Madams Duron said she
would meet the next train, so I put Julie on it and hoped for the
best. There's nothing else I can do now. Let's hope by the time
you'll get this she'll be okay.
Later.
Well
it's now nearly 4 p.m. and Julie will have been in Paris for one and
a half hours. I had brought some food with me to eat as I won't be
back at Champagne until about 9 p.m. unless I'm very lucky with
trains. Anyway, because Julie's train was late arriving, it meant she
would not be in time for lunch in Paris so, as she had not eaten a
very big breakfast, she helped me dispose of my lunch at 11 a.m. and
I had only brought enough for one anyway, so I'm now starving, with
no prospect of food for ages yet, so perhaps it will get my weight
down a bit. I've been up since 5:30 this morning, getting everything
ready for Julie, who rolled sleepily out of bed at 6:30, but did not
get her up sooner because I knew what sort of day she'd be having.
Fortunately the weather has been just right for her, for she was
wearing my coat, so it wasn't very hot, and happily it wasn't raining
either.
I
spent the day, as I said, around Dijon and my legs are utterly
exhausted after Besançon on Wednesday, getting Julie prepared
yesterday, and walking around Dijon today. What's more, I've either
got to spend 15 shillings or 1,000 Francs on a taxi or walk when I
get to Mouchard because Sœur Martine isn't there to meet me. As I
don't intend to spending all that on a taxi for a very good reason -
I can't afford it. I will either wait two and a half hours at
Mouchard for the stopping train to Besançon, or else walk from
Mouchard but the latter is about ten kilometers which is seven miles.
I'll probably wait and get the Besançon train which stops at Liesle
and walk from there which means getting home at 9 p.m. after a three
and a half mile walk. Unfortunately this train gets into Mouchard at
5:39, and the train that stops at Liesle leaves at 5:38. [More
timetable speculation omitted].
Do
you realise, I've spent from 7:30 to 9:30 in the waiting room at
Mouchard this morning, from 10:15 to 11:44 at Dijon, this hour now in
the Dijon waiting room, and probably two and a half hours at
Mouchard. That makes about six hours in waiting rooms today. That
must be a record! You will probably laugh when I tell you that I have
brought all my writing materials with me and a biology text book to
help pass the time. [...].
Sœur
Martine gave Julie a little present before she left this morning.
Julie will show you, it is a comb, nail file, mirror and address book
in a little case. Wasn't it kind of her? [...]
[Saturday
11 May].
Well,
it is now 4:45 p.m. on Saturday and I'm in the kitchen having a cup
of char all on my tod, because Julie has come home and Françoise and
Danielle have gone home for the weekend. It does seem odd all on my
own after being used to the four of us. [...]
My
train yesterday rolled into Mouchard at exactly 5:39 and I jumped out
very quickly. I saw a train on the Besançon platform and ran like
mad, crossing the lines, because that's what they do in France,
except in big stations like Dijon and Paris, and as I got on the
platform the train started to move. Hell, I thought, two and a half
hours for the sake of 15 seconds! Then a chap on the train opened the
door and he and one of his friends helped me on while the train was
moving, and we had a good old jaw on how that was really quick timing
and dead lucky. They were very nice people, but I certainly don't
want to make a habit of getting onto trains like that. I arrived at
Liesle and had a gossip with the chappie there, who obviously wasn't
used to having his station invaded by British maniacs who only buy
tickets from Dijon to Mouchard and then go on as far as Liesle.
Still, I just gave him the extra and then started walking back here,
which took about one hour. Just as I came in it started bucketing
down with rain and didn't stop all evening, so I was very lucky,
wasn't I? Gosh, I needed to be after all the trouble and
inconvenience that was showered on me in the morning. I was dead
tired so went straight to bed and slept to about 9:30 this morning,
so heavily I never even heard the girls get up for their study, which
I'm supposed to give.
I
suppose you couldn't exactly say what time you met Julie, could you?
Because suddenly, without reason, I woke up in the middle of the
night. I was wide awake and wondered why. I immediately thought of
Julie and turned on my light to see the time, wondering where she
would be. It was exactly 12:25 and I wondered if it could be the
sixth sense that woke me at that moment. Wouldn't it be odd if it was
exactly that time you met Julie? Tell me if it was, won't you,
because it's curious and Danielle and Françoise think it's odd as
well.
This
morning I had to clear out Julie's bedroom which was rather sad,
throwing out her flowers, old stockings, slippers, and the other odds
and ends she'd left. Still only 34 more days and I'll be home. I also
gave Alexander Bear a bath and he is now sitting on my windowsill
looking a lot cleaner but very wet and fed up with it all. By the
way, I thanked Sœur Martine properly today for letting Julie come
and for her little present, and I think Sœur Martine was very happy
about it. Anyway she started laughing and twisting my nose around as
if I was about five. She said she's loved having Julie and was very
happy she'd been able to give Julie the opportunity of seeing a
little of France and the way the French live. [Paragraphs omitted].
I've
torn my skirt, the brown and blue one I made, on a barbed wire fence
and I'm still trying to persuade Danielle to mend it for me. So far
she's only promised to look into it but I'm hoping some arm twisting
may help.
[Paragraphs
on letter received from Croydon and hopes that they like the presents
Julie brought back].
Gitan
still hasn't been shot but goes mad every time I go near him, and
howls the place down when I leave. He's got to be killed because he
keeps running into the road in front of cars and may cause an
accident. For the amount of traffic round here, I shouldn't think it
likely and it's only one month each year, so why can't they keep in
tied up for that month? By the way it's Danielle's birthday soon, so
do you think you could send her something, preferably English, a
scarf or hanky or anything you think of. [...] I'm going to stay with
Francoise again on the 26th for the weekend.
[Monday
13th]
I
have just given three girls a pile of English punishment work to do,
and they are objecting. I don't often give them punishment work, but
when I do, it certainly calms them down a lot!
I
got your typewritten letter today, Henry, and was very relieved to
know that Julie had got home ok. You must give me more details of
her journey, how she got on in Paris, did she need to letter that I
wrote? I have already written to Thérèse and Madame Duron, but it
would be better if you sent letters as well. [...] I'm glad Mum liked
her gloves. [...] Did you like the wine? It's quite a good one, so
I'm told, and definitely nicer than the one we get at Champagne. Did
you know that you're supposed to put water with the wine? It makes it
less strong, it's not so nice, but it stops you're getting drunk. I
don't often put much water in, but the amount Julie boozed while she
was here, she'd have been rolling around the floor if it hadn't been
diluted.
If
you posted your letter Saturday night it certainly was good if it got
here by Monday morning wasn't it? You can tell Julie that I got that
photo of the foal at Moulin Bleu yesterday afternoon, and I think it
will be a good one. We went we went for a walk yesterday to Liesle
and came back by a country lane through Moulin Bleu. That won't mean
much to you, Mum and Dad, but Julie knows both villages. It's now
Tuesday morning and I couldn't finish this letter yesterday because I
was doing biology. I have now completely finished the book (over 100
pages), and I've finished the general nervous system and have only
the sensory and receptor organs of the eye and ear to do, then
muscles and I will have finished human biology ,although that's only
about half my work if not less, so I don't reckon I will get it all
finished. It will be okay if the ask me what I know, but they never
do that in exams.
Danielle
went to bed ill last night and was already coming out in spots when I
went to bed, so our bet she has caught German measles. It's sweeping
Jura at the moment, and nearly everyone seems to have it. Danielle
can't go home because her sister-in-law lives with them and she's not
had German measles, and is expecting a baby, so I suppose that means
that, as I've had it, I will have to help look after her. Well, I
don't mind with Danielle because she's fun and she's not daft like so
many of the girls and sisters here.
Maybe
it's not nice to call the sisters that but everyone of them, even
Sœur Martine, have habits that infuriate me, but while Sœur Martine
and Sœur Jeanne-Cathrine are intelligent and do the teaching here,
the others are all rather unintelligent and simple. Still they are
sweet and kind, so I mustn't complain. [...]
Thanks
again for your letter and also Mum for the underwear and cosmetics
which will probably arrive today. Danielle is already excited because
I told a yesterday, but I'm definitely selling it to her this time
and not giving it because it's for her sister-in-law.
Champagne-sur-Loue,
undated letter to Julie, around 15 May 1963.
[...]
I'm hoping this will arrive in time for your birthday. Sorry there's
no card, but I couldn't get one anywhere. Anyway, you've got the
present and that's the main thing isn't it? I want to wish you a very
very happy birthday and, believe me, I really do wish I was there
with you for it! [...]
So,
here's your present, and it's not long now before I will be home with
you, is it? Do you like the gloves? I hope they fit you okay; they
may have rather long fingers but they had to be okay for the width.
They are a bit wide for me so they ought to be your size. You said
you liked those we bought Mum, so I thought you might like a pair
too. I bought them in Dijon after I left you, and nearly drove the
assistant mad trying them all on. I found some that were fine for me
but there were too small for you and the assistant must have thought
me barmy getting them too big.
I
got a letter from Henry to say that you've got home okay, but I still
haven't had any details and so I don't know how you got an in Paris.
Did Claude take you to the air terminus? He's nice, isn't he, dead
polite and all that. I will probably be lunching with them on the
15th before coming home, then I'll have someone to help me carry all
my baggage. [...]
Francoise
and Danielle send you their love and wish you a happy birthday, as do
all the girls. I can't give you any more news at the moment except
that I heard Cliff Richard on the radio last night in a live
performance from Olympia in Paris and, oh boy, what a giggle when he
tried speaking French. He had to do it in English in the end, and
bring in a few "oui"s and "non"s, and I
interpreted for Danielle. He sang "We say yeh" and got all
the French audience singing the "yeh" bit while he sang "We
say oui" and one verse in French "Ton pere te dit non".
It was ever so good and the audience screamed and yelled for him to
come back again. Mind you, Cliff really had to work for his money.
Francoise
and Danielle are both ill in bed, and I'm the nurse carting food and
drinks to them, looking after them and amusing them. I bunged a sheet
of paper under Danielle's bedroom door the other night with a little
picture drawn on it, which cheered her up no end when she saw it. Tey
are both a bit better today, but the sisters that it's my turn now.
I
gave a French lesson today and will give another tomorrow. You went
home and just about the right time, Julie, because it has been cold
and wet ever since, just like February. I think I'm going to stay
with Francoise next Saturday, but I'm not sure. I'll tell you next
time I write.
One
of the nuns has seen me with my hair always in rollers at night, and
I now called alternately Mademoiselle Mise-en-plis and Miss Bigoudi,
which mean Miss Hair Set and Miss Hair Roller respectively I think
it's quite funny, don't you?
[Champagne-sur-Loue,
Friday 16th May 1963].
I
turned on the French radio just in time for the end of the news and
guess what they were talking about. They were reporting on the
argument in the English parliament about the fluoridation of water
and not only water in general, but they debated about five minutes on
Croydon's supply, the protests and recommendations of the Croydonians
and mentioned the mayor, Councillor John Aston. How about that! I
think it's terrific, and I'm ever so happy also about the chap (I
have forgotten his name) who stood up in Parliament this afternoon and
slammed out in real blunt English his opinion of the people who
objected to it. He called them a lot of goon minded exhibitionist
cranks. How about that! [...] I thoroughly agree with him but didn't
realize that the subject was of national importance. I understood the
French news perfectly, and when I heard it later on the English news,
it only confirmed it. Just to think, I got a letter published on a
subject of European importance in a town of importance! I also hear
all the French news about Gordon Cooper and his 22 turns of the
Earth. Oh, the French are allowed of nits! They soak up all Americans
glories like so many sponges. Danielle is quite sure that we must
conquer the universe because soon the world will be overcrowded. She
also thinks we should have the bomb. I don't see why we should need
them both because the bomb will have as blown up before we are too
overcrowded anyway.
[Long
diatribe on space exploration, Britain's love of all things American,
the state of education and difficulty in getting admission to
universities]. You will never believe it from the way I'm carrying on,
but I'm in a very happy mood today, and it's just that I do feel so
emphatically on these subjects, so let's change the topic.
I
sent Julie's gloves off this morning. Did she get them okay? Do they
fit and does she like them? As per usual I've been doing biology all
day and have finished the ear. I've done about two-thirds now I've
got muscles, cell structure, differences between animal and plant
cells, photosynthesis and irritability in plants and I've more or
less finished. After that I suppose I start learning all the bits I
have forgotten. [...]
Well,
it's now Saturday and a day nearer coming home. Counting the day I
come, it's four weeks today. The time will whizz by, I know. Actually
I'm at the stage of not wanting to come. Oh, I want to get over and
see you all, but I don't want to leave all my friends here. Also I
know that I will miss not speaking French almost as much as I missed
not speaking English when I arrived. I'll really have to make
opportunities so as not to forget it. Do you feel like having a
gossip now and then in French, Henry? I want to join Croydon's
Foreign Language Club; why don't you come with me? You've already
joined once, haven't you? I reckon it will be good and it will make
an interesting evening for us occasionally, and far more educational
than bingo. I also want, if I pass my French GCE, to start evening
classes for German or Spanish. I'm not sure which because I am
already know a bit of Spanish and it's very like French. On the other
hand, I've been learning a little German while I've been here and it
is much easier to pronounce, being rather similar to English. I would
also like to take up Latin again now that I'm older, and can
understand better. I also understand a little of that language from
the Mass, and will soon pick up the basic principles of grammar
again. On the other hand, if I fail my O-level, I'm definitely
getting it by evening classes and, if I pass and am considered to
have sufficient knowledge to enable me to continue the study, I'd
like to have a go at the A-level and then, if I continue the English
A-level studies, of which I have already done more than half, I might
eventually get two A-levels, which would exempt me from the first
professional library examination, and I'll be able to go straight to
the registration which, with any luck, could get me an FLA after my
name two years earlier than would otherwise be possible - not to
mention the extra long green.
Still,
doubtless these are merely wild dreams, and the first thing to do is
to get my French and biology O-levels and the job in the library
before I start building my Chateaux d'Espagne. But after that I
really do mean to study and die an intelligent old maid!
I
have got the addresses of dozens of travel agencies from a book here
on tourism in Great Britain, but it's for the French and it does seem
odd. In the book there are photographs of the swimming pool at Mount
Wise and Mount Edgecumbe, and Looe, Falmouth, Saint Ives and Somerset
- there's even a paragraph about Croydon. I told Sœur Martine about
the horse guards outside Whitehall who never moved while they were on
guard, and she thought it was terrifically funny. She said that if
she bought me a film for my camera and gave me a little bag of powder
would I throw it in his face and stand back to take a photo when he
sneezed? I said, certainly if you could afford to bail me out. She
was most emphatic that I didn't tell the police it was her idea, and
I doubt the police would believe me if I did.[...]
Later.
Well,
it's nearly 11:00 p.m. and I've just got into bed after gossiping
with Françoise and doing a pile of ironing. As it is Saturday
evening, there are not many girls here and so I'm alone in my room
for a change. Here I am with Luxembourg on and feeling far from
sleepy. Before I forget, Nellie sends you her love, Julie, and told
me to remind you about the "beautiful paper". She's as mad
as ever, as you will realise.
Henry,
I read this story in a French magazine and it had me giggling for
ages, and when I translated it, the girls here just roared. I will
write it in French so as to keep you up to scratch with the lingo,
and you can translate it from Mum and Julie. Here goes:
Un
professeur de l'académie de médecine de Londres vient d'être nommé
médecin de la reine d'Angleterre. Il fait aussitôt afficher à
l'intention de ses élèves: "Je suis extrêmement honoré et
fier d'avoir été désigné comme médecin de Sa Majesté la Reine."
Quelques heures après quelqu'un avait écrit dessous, "God save
the Queen".
I've
also found another one, and I thought it looked rather good, but you
may have already heard it, for it sounded familiar to me.
Dans
le fond d'une forêt tropicale un missionnaire courait, poursuivi par
un lion affamé. À bout de souffle le missionnaire tombe à genoux,
joint les mains et se met à prier. Stupeur! Le lion s'assied et,
joignant les pattes de devant, lève les yeux au ciel en priant lui
aussi. Ciel! s'écrie le missionnaire émerveillé par ce miracle, je
vois frère lion que tu pries le Seigneur toi aussi? Oh! répond le
lion, je dis seulement "Seigneur, bénissez le repas que je vais
prendre".
[...]
I'm really pleased with all the biology I've done today. All of the
nitrogen cycle, ductless gland, bacteria, and I have just started
cell structure which I hope to finish on Monday because I suppose
I'll have to take the girls for their walk in the afternoon. [...]
Well
it's Sunday now and just as I picked up my pen to write, they tell me
it's grub time, so I'll finish after lunch as I decided not to go for
the walk this afternoon as I have too much work to do, even if it is
only writing letters and doing my mending, because I spent so long
doing biology that I'm all behind.
Well
I'm back again, full up with chicken, french beans, saute potatoes,
fruit salad, potato salad, mushroom soup, biscuits, coffee and French
bread. [...] This evening I'm going to confession in English with the
English-speaking priest. I don't really want to go, but can't think
of an excuse and, my halo is rather tarnished by the dust and grime
of ages.
21st
May 1963
Were
you aware that the tapeworm, also known as the tenia solium grows to
about eight or nine feet in length has over 80 segments or
proglottids,
and lays about 80 million eggs a year, being hermaphrodite in nature.
Isn't it an interesting thought? [...] I'm dead tired so we'll
continue in the morning.
[22
May 1963].
Well
it's now 8:45 a.m. And I really ought to be getting down to doing my
biology, but I'm sure that I must have absolutely every malady I have
so far read about, including tapeworm, fleas, lice, liver flukes,
ascaris, ringworm, blight, saprolegnia, and a whole host of others.
Well
the postman's arrived, and I guess I just about hit the jackpot with
letters today. A whole sentence from Mother Mary Cuthbert, telling me
that my exams are 9:15 on the 24th and 25th of June for biology and
French respectively. She said she was glad my year had been so
worthwhile. She wants to know when I'm coming home so as to arrange
the date of my oral exam for French because I was supposed to have
had it in March when the other girls had theirs. […] Thanks for the
500 francs you sent back, and for the souvenir postcard of Brighton
which, after reading, I gave to Françoise who collects postcards and
is delighted with it. […] I showed Françoise the letter Henry
wrote for Julie when she came and Françoise was astounded that an
English person could understand French so well. She said it was very
well done and could only find two mistakes and they were obvious ones
that you had just done carelessly, Henry. She said it was typically
French and tells you to put a feather in your cap, so you can,
because your deserve it. It was very good. I've cut my hair again and
it looks quite nice but it's the last time I cut it before coming
home because I want the hairdressers to be able to manage it okay.
It's a third time since Christmas, so it's not too bad, is it? [...]
Only
another 24 days and I'll be home. You've certainly got to come and
meet me, Mum, and I'll be arriving at 5 p.m. at London airport and 6
p.m. at the terminal. I would like you to meet me at the airport if
possible, to see me arrive, and that means leaving work at about 3:00
p.m. at the latest. Mrs Wagner will just have to excuse you for once.
[…]
Later.
A
priest came here to show a film and give a talk to the girls and they
asked me if I'd like to go. I thought it would be the usual dull old
stuff, but decided to keep them happy, and so I went. It was
terrific! The talk was an on affection to animals and they showed a
20-minute film on the Chipperfield circus in Manchester, and it was
all in English so I was the only one that could understand the words
– but, as you know, there's hardl any words in a circus. The circus
itself was terrific and there were lots of acts that I saw at
Christmas at home. The girls loved it. […] After that they showed a
film with hardly any speaking, so it was dead easy to understand, but
wait till I tell you which film. Do you remember years ago we saw a
film about a little boy and his donkey? It was that film. “Never
take no for an answer”. It was only me that had already seen it,
although it's a famous French film. This makes it a third time I have
seen it. I loved every minute of it and, as you'll remember, it was
well worth seeing. I was nearly crying it was so alive. The love the
little boy had for his donkey was wonderful. Anyway, it’s 5:30 pm
and I haven't done any biology today yet, so I'll have to trot off
and do some.
Later,
type written.
Well
I've been doing biology all the morning and just about sick of
learning about the vegetative reproduction of the saprophyte mucore
and I'm going on strike for an hour and I'm writing a note to you so
a's not to forget how to type. It’s full of mistakes, I know, but
I'm not looking at the keys, so you can see I've not completely
forgotten it, have I? It's just after lunch and I'm listening to the
news. How about getting a few shares out with Tate and Lyle sugar
refiners, then? It seems a sure hit to me. Today, it being a holiday
of obligation, we went to Mass this morning and so I didn't have to
get up to take the study. The girls didn't have any lessons at all
today because of it being a national holiday, and it's been just like
a Sunday. It's pouring with rain today, which is annoying because I
wanted to go and visit the family I know in Liesle. Still, this way
I'll get more work done, won't I?
Will
you are meant to have read the typewritten sheet before this bit,
because it goes between this and where I left off yesterday. It's now
Thursday night and I'm in bed. The girls haven't done a stroke of
work all day as it's the Feast of the Ascension. I spent the data
learning about saprophytes, osmotic pressure, tropisms,
photosynthesis, and the transpiration pull, as well as the internal
structure of the leaf. Gosh, I've done more than I thought! Danielle
went home for the day and got back this evening, after having spent
the afternoon at the annual fear in Besançon.
24
May 1963.
Well,
I well I can't really spare the time as I have not done as stroke of
work yet this morning, and it's nearly 11 am and I have a French
lesson then, but I thought I get this letter finished and sent off
before the moss started growing on it. [...] I don't quite know what
to do about the taxi money. If I send off money, I don't know how
much or anything, and there are no facilities to buy a present.
Still, I'll think it out, and maybe go and have lunch with them on
the 15th,
sorting it out then. This morning I got a letter telling me that I've
got to write to London University to arrange my GCE French oral exam.
I'm not looking forward to all those big nobs hearing my quaint
country French. Oh well just have to hope for the best. [...] See you
in 20 days time.
[Champagne-sur-Loue],
1 June [1963].
Well,
I've got to give an English lesson in a few minutes so can't say more
than a line or two, but didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you.
Yesterday morning I received a lovely letter from Nanna and uncle
Henry. Wasn't as a lovely surprise? It was uncle who written it. I
really must write and thank him for it. They are going to Eastbourne
with the blind on June the 10th,
so I hope the weather's nice for them both.
I
also got a couple of letters from Diane. Thanks a lot for giving her
the letters I send. I do hope it doesn't inconvenience you sending
them over. Anyway, she's won the Miss Bunhill Row beauty competition
again, so is going on a boat cruise with the firm on the River for
the day with the winners of all the other branches, where they'll
hold the finals again. The day of the cruise unfortunately is the
15th of June, so she won't be able to come and see me, or though she
says she'll be back about 11 pm, so if there are lights on at our
place she will come over, otherwise she will come over on the Sunday.
I hope I'll be able to talk straight, and not keep jabbering in
French because it's really awfully difficult to change back again.
Yesterday
one of the girls found a snake in the boiler room and so, as they
didn't know whether it was poisonous or not, we looked it up in my
biology book. It turned out to be an adder. We were in the room with
it at the time, and there was a mad rush for the door when this news
was announced. I had never seen a live snake before. It was a bit
over two and a half foot long, not very big but big enough, for they
have poison fangs even when they're born. I didn't realize they were
capable of moving so quickly. It was fascinating the way it wriggled
about in the middle of the floor. Anyway eventually someone found
enough courage to go in and clonk it on its head which killed it. The
corpse is still there, but I still get twinges down my spine when I
enter the room. It was horrible, honestly it was. I'm dead scared to
go out in the Clos now because there are sure to be others out there,
and the hospital is 30 miles away if I get bitten. Anyway I must go
now. See you later, lots of love, Jill.
It
is now Friday night and I'm in bed. There is a mad may bug or
something flying around the lights, nearly knocking me out each time
it passes by. Thanks for the long green [pound note]. [...]. I've
given Danielle the long green and she's getting it changed for me.
Françoise goes home tomorrow so I will be all on my tod until
Tuesday. Still Marie-Noëlle
and Pierre are coming for the weekend so I will be able to gossip in
English anyway. Guess what, there's a mad chap here who's taken to
hiding in the orchard opposite the school every night so as to see
the girls get ready for bed. He's a bit mad and Danielle's and
Françoise's rooms are on that side of the house. I'm lucky because
mine is on the other side. Even so, I'm not too happy because I will
be sleeping here on my own for the next few nights and the school is
dead easy to break into. Oh well, I'll keep a saucepan under the bed
to clonk him with if he comes in, but I hope he doesn't try it. He's
been out there for three nights now and doesn't know we know he's
there. We got a nun to open a window suddenly the other night to
scare him off and he hopped behind the wall like lightning.
I
sent off for my plane ticket for Saturday the 15th of June on the 6
pm flight arriving at 7 pm but if that's inconvenient I'll be on the
Air France plane from Orly one hour earlier. I got the Advertiser
from Gran as usual and the only thing of interest was a letter about
the harm of fluoride by a doctor, and I assure can't compete with
that.
Well,
it's now Saturday morning and I'm in study. I've just heard the news
of the miracle last night at the Vatican. Pope John had only a matter
of minutes to live and he suddenly made a miraculous recovery, and
this morning was sitting up in bed drinking coffee. I only hope he
doesn't have another relapse because I reckon he's a wonderful man,
and I don't just say that because he's the Pope. He has got wonderful
strength of character and absolutely everyone, including
non-Catholics, have come to love and respect him, despite his only
having been Pope for a short time.
Hey,
when I tell you that my pen nib is really and truly worn right down,
will you believe me? I reckon that during the past few months I've
used over 1,000 sheets of this paper. I've used one and a half large
bottles of ink for a start, and 200 pages on biology alone. I've used
19 books to date with 50 pages in each one, and that's counting only
one side. With both sides it's 100 pages, which makes nearer 2,000
sides in all. I really think this must be a record. I'll have to get
a new pen though; this one has really and truly had it.
I've
sent off for a couple of French pop records which are given free when
you have enough cheese labels, so I collected 30 Gros Jean ones,
which entitle me to two discs, but they're not much good. They only
play one side and are in featherweight plastic, you know the type.
[...]
The
girls here are all wild with excitement, rushing round to get ready
for their holidays. According to the news, you've had the best
weather so far this year. [...] The weather here is equally glorious
and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Marie-Noëlle
will take me for a drive in her car this afternoon or tomorrow
because every now and again the steam collects under the lid of the
kettle until it reaches such a point that the pressure within blows
off the lid of the kettle and I have to do something mad to get off
the boil! Last time I just downed tools and legged to to Besançon
the next day, which did a lot to restore my better temper and I've
been okay ever since. [...] Anyway the lid’s about to blow off
again. It's all due this time to Françoise
and Danielle yesterday trying to nag me because I hadn't made the tea
and they were thirsty. Just because they don't know how to make tea
they take it for granted that I should do it. [More in same vein.]
[Sunday
2 June]
Well,
it's now Sunday morning and “Easybeat” will be starting in a
moment. I got my car ride yesterday, firstly with Sœur Martine by
the Loue, and later with Marie-Noëlle
to Liesle and back by Arc-et-Senans, stopping to look around the
Louis XIV salt works that I've already told you about. This afternoon
Marie-Noëlle
says maybe we'll go for a drive in the car. I hope so, because it
will make a change. The weather, according to the news, is glorious
in England, so it will be nice for you during Whitsun. Will you be
going to the coast? It will be glorious but maybe too crowded.
The
way I long to submerge in water is terrible I've been even been
taking two baths a day to feel fresh. I would give anything to go for
a swim under Brighton pier. Still, who knows, Sunday week I may be
bathing in sunshine and the sea alternately. Do you realize, I only
have one Sunday left here and then it will be the garden fete, so I
won't have to work.
The
nuns are all miserable that I'm coming home. They say they've enjoyed
having me here and they've got so used to it that it will be odd
without me. I suppose they will miss the radio always blaring out
jukebox type discs and corny jokes. Actually, I have been asked to
come back again next year but I said that as soon as I got my exams
I'd have to start work. They said that, if I didn't get my exams, I
would be welcome to come back for another year and continue the
study, so that is being left with a question mark.
I
hope I do get my exam though, because each year I have to delay with
GCEs is another year longer before my first professional step. I
would sooner spend the year at Brighton library school but I must
pass either French or biology before I can qualify for it. I really
want most of all to pass the two GCEs, work for a year saving, if
possible, nearly £100, and then try to get into the college at
Brighton. I'm not sure if it's a one or a two year course; I'll have
to find all that out.
I've
had dozens of suggestions of jobs I could do in France if I stayed
another year. Some people have suggested that I took a course on
French literature and grammar at the university in Besançon for a
couple of years but then, unlike the girls who suggested it -
students at the university, I haven't millionaire parents, and they
are already 23 and haven't started work yet. I may come back to
champagne in October but it's very doubtful, so you needn't start
tearing out your hair or sighing with relief, whichever you feel most
inclined to do, yet a while. I don't know if I'd be able to bear
another year of isolation. If I could get about three days a month
away with a lot of company, shops, and a greater variety, it will be
okay but stuck just here sometimes gets on my wick. I’m at the
stage of not really wanting to come home now. I want to see my gang
again, but it will be a bit sad to leave everyone, although they are
typical gossipy types, just like in all villages where everyone knows
everything and matter behind people's backs, and no no one is
bursting at the seams with brains. Being French, they are all a bit
moody and sulky, and I could shoot them all sometimes when I have to
put up with a wild, gay, crazy rough mood, and sulks and moans the
next. Thank goodness I'm comparatively placid.
A
major catastrophe has occurred. I went to buy a new writing pad, and
they only had one left in the shop - this one. I have to be careful
how I go because otherwise I'll run out before the end of the week.
[...]
Tuesday
4 June.
Well,
I guess you're wondering where my letters to you have got to, aren't
you? To tell the truth, since I finished my last bit on Sunday I've
not had half a minute to put pen to paper. Apart from that, I didn't
wake up in time to give the letters to the postman this morning so I
will finish now and send it off by the morning’s post.
[Long
section on arrangements to meet on return]
Sunday
afternoon we had a terrific storm here and, between thunder and
lightning and radio crackles, I heard all about Britons 16 hours of
sunshine and blazing temperatures. We were like you in the morning,
but the afternoon blew up awful, yet it was very hot. We are still in
the middle of a storm at the moment. We have been having two or three
a day, and all night too, yet in between it is blazing sunshine.
On Sunday
afternoon despite the storm we went for a drive in the car with
Marie-Noëlle
and Pierre. We went to a mountain lake near Lons-le-Saunier which
wasn't very big really, it was about five miles long and two miles
wide, but there were lots of boats on it, and a few people swimming
despite the rain. We then drove to the cascades at the source of the
lake.
These
were huge, the bottom one a sheer sheet of white and black water
dropping some one hundred feet to the lake. This was topped by three
more cascades of equal height, the whole being about 350 feet high.
It was a spectacle I had never seen before and, having seen it from
the bottom, we decided to climb up to the top. Needless to say, we
were the only maniacs with such ideas in the middle of a
thunderstorm. We climbed, or rather scrambled, up the path beside the
waterfall to the second saut or waterfall. The path was under water
and we paddled most of the way. We crossed a stone slab across the
second saut with a drop of 200 feet to the right, and if we had slid
on the wet stone we would have fallen into the water and been swept
over. There were many caves and grottos where the sources of streams
started to unite in this gigantic fall. We then scrambled up to the
third saut and managed to lose the path completely, sliding and
slipping on the muddy slopes, sitting down more than oncae, and
meanwhile the storm continued. Sœur Jeanne- Catherine fell over into
some white mud and, as her robe was black, she looked very elegant
afterwards.
Eventually
be reached a stream that cascaded down a crack into the main stream
and this we crossed by crooked stepping stones. How we managed not to
fall in I don't know - not that we would have been much better if we
had wetter if we had! We then had to climb to the top saut. There
were was hardly any path, just steps carved in the naked rock, and an
iron rail to stop you falling into the cascade as long as you held on
tight and didn't slip. We reached about half way up the top so and
then, in sheer madness, decided that as we couldn't get up any higher
or get any wetter, we might as well go under the waterfall. I've
always wanted to do that and, as this would parobably be the only
chance I’d have. I decided to profit from it. […] We
decided to go under the fall and, holding tightly to the metal bar,
we started off. It was exhilarating! Do you remember that I said on
Sunday morning how I longed to get soaking wet? Well, the others had
already been under and I was the last. On one side of me was the
sheer cliff face and on the other a white sheet of furious roaring
water falling past with a terrific roar to crash into the valley some
three hundred feet below me. It was one of the most wonderful
sensations I've ever experienced.
I
had to stop. The path was only about two foot wide and the water
poured past so close I could have touched it if I'd have put out my
hand. The spray was amazing and it poured all over me. When I
eventually came out on the other side I was every bit as wet as if I
fallen in. My shoes squelched water everywhere. Coming down was
easier than going up, although as we could look down the sheer drop
into the lake, it was rather apt to turn your head. I was pretty
scared, I don't mind telling you!
We
were left at the station, where we caught the train back to Mouchard
and were met by Sœur Martine. My hair, as you can imagine, looked
foul, and trickles of water kept finding their way down my neck all
the way home. I had my silk suit on under my mac, and it got soaking.
I thought it had it, but it ironed up okay and I have re-pleated it,
and it looks better than it did before. Needless to say, I've been
sneezing for the last couple of days and have a sore throat. Sure
signs of a cold, but it really was worth it, although I know you'd
have said a lot of bad things to me if you'd see me, Mum. Anyway you
didn't, so it's okay. [...]
Thanks
for the £2, Henry. I've loads more to tell you but you've had enough
for now, haven't you?
Champagne-sur-Loue,
[7 June 1963, undated, probably never posted]
Well,
I don't know how many more letters you'll be getting from me in the
near future because I'll be home within a few days of you getting
this! Will you be glad? I'm personally longing to see you all again.
I
got my plane ticket back this morning. It's for June 15th on the 6
p.m. flight, so that will be fine for you all, won't it?
I'll
be able to spend a few hours around Paris as well. Mind you, I hope I
can find somewhere to leave my luggage. If you have time for the
letter to arrive before Saturday, will you write and let me know if
you will be meeting me at the airport, the terminus, or do you want
me to come home on my tod? If I don't see you at the airport and
haven't received a letter saying whether you're going to be there or
not, then I'll go to the terminus and expect to see you there. If you
should arrive sometime after me, you'll find me upstairs having a
coffee.
That
was really the main point of my news, except that I got a streaming
cold from Sunday and never stop sneezing. It’s not all due to the
cold however, hay fever must take some of the blame.
Well
I'm back again now, having just had breakfast. I was working until
after 11 p.m. last night and I'm dead sleepy today. However I can at
last claim to have finished the human toils of biology. I've finished
five years work yesterday. Mind you, I have piles of questions to
answer and will have to read through the notes again, to make sure I
haven't forgotten them. I did last summer’s GCE paper yesterday
and, as is typical, I could answer every question very easily. In the
exam last year I couldn't. A fat lot of use to be able to answer the
questions now, isn't it? Still it was best really because otherwise I
would not be here, would I?
You
know I've changed quite a bit since being here. I'm more sensible,
thank heavens, but it's not serious, actually I suppose it's a good
thing, though I was happier as I was. I never bothered to think very
deeply on anything and just accepted good and bad. [...] Now I spend
hours worrying about politics and worrying myself because I seem to
have piles of communistic ideas [which] seem to contrast so
astoundingly with other Christian ideas I have equal faith in and,
all in all, my mind seems to get in quite a tangle. Just when I think
I've got it all sorted out something happens to twist it up more
irretrievably than ever. Just like when someone lets go of a piece of
taut elastic. [...]
Yesterday
[6 June] I listened to the Pope's funeral on the French radio. It was
conducted in Latin, which was then interpreted into Italian, and then
into French so as to reach more listeners. I then translated it to
English - a very cosmopolitan business, wasn't it?
I've
just heard from Sœur Jeanne-Catherine that her cousin won't be in
Paris on the 15th, so I don't know what I do about paying her for the
taxi. Oh well, maybe I'll just put a present through the door with a
note.
I'm
in bed now, and it's 10 pm. This morning I got a letter from
Margaret telling me you've taken her present round to her home, Mum.
That was very decent of you; I didn't mean you to go to such a lot of
bother, but thanks ever so. [....]
I've
also got some pictures Danielle painted. One is of a white carnation
on brown paper, and the others are of two fashion models wearing a
suit and a dustercoat of Danielle's designing. They are ever so good,
and I'll put them in up in my room as well, in place of the pop
singers on the bedroom door. [...]
[8
June].
I
spent the morning helping Sœur Martine make 24 paper hats and
pinafores ready for the garden fete on Sunday. The girls are doing
regional dances, and we've got to make their outfits. Danielle has
been doing hems all day. Françoise to date has made over a thousand
cakes, pastries, pies, and other things this week, not counting
fudges, eclairs and meringues. So, you can see we are really busy,
aren't we? Trouble is, I want to help by selling things but, although
I can calculate French currency in my head, it is difficult to count
it out loud in French when I'm very busy, and I may make mistakes. Of
course, I suppose I could wash up, but I don't want to do that. Maybe
I could be a waitress in the buffet - that's not a bad idea, they
give tips in France.
Sœur
Martine told me she hoped I jolly well failed my exams. I gaped and
asked her why, she sounded so serious, and she said, so that I would
come back next Year. It was sweet of her really, in an off-beat sort
of way, wasn't it?
I'm
now sitting on my bed with "Saturday Club" playing; this
time next week I'll be on the express for Paris, having just left
Dijon. It doesn't seem possible I'll be home so soon, does it? [...]
The
sisters have been making dolls out of wine bottles and wool and paper
dresses which are ever so good. They did all the countries of the
Common Market, but because I was here they let England into the
Common Market just for a day, and stuck a notice on the doll labelled
"Miss Jill", and the doll had a Union Jack draped from it
shoulders. It was ever so good, and Sœur Martine says it looks like
me. It's got my hairstyle but it's got a green face. It's going on
display with the other dolls for the fete. It's bucketing down with
rain today, as it has been all week, so we're praying for a miracle
for tomorrow, otherwise it will be ruined. Oh well, I suppose I
better go and find some work to do.
I've
come back again. I'm out of the way here. It's awful, everyone's
rushing around getting everything arranged, and there's not a thing
for me to do. All I seem to do is get in the way, and it makes me
feel bigger and clumsier than ever. Actually, I’d sooner be in my
room but it gives me a guilty conscience.
I
ought to do some biology but I want to listen to “Saturday Club”
and I can't concentrate properly on the two so I'll try and do some
this afternoon. This will be the last Saturday you'll come home and
find me not there. [...]
[9
June].
It's
now Sunday 12:30 and I've just got back from Mass. The children of
the village made their first communion today so the mass was extra
long. This afternoon is the feast of the Kermesse, and the place is
really hectic. I’m helping to run a side show this afternoon, but
don't know if I will like it. It's awful doing nothing just because
it takes me a bit longer than the French to understand and work out
their francs. I can work them out quicker than most of the French,
but to change my answer and reckoning into French is awful,
especially things like 97 which in French is, as Henry knows, four
score plus 10 plus 7 - very complicated, isn't it? Anyway, I hope it
goes okay. The weather's not marvellous, but the storm has blown
itself and it has stopped raining. The sun even peeps out now and
then.
I'm
bubbling over with anger! The nuns want to show the parents the
sleeping quarters of the pupils, so they've had the nerve to ask me
to take down the pictures off my wall and leave my room absolutely
tidy. Don't you think it's a nerve? Danielle and Françoise
have got rooms of their own, so they are okay. As for me, I have to
suffer tons of inconvenience of girls coming in and out of my room
pestering me, annoying me if I'm listening to the radio, and turning
on my electric lamp for their own uses, without even mentioning that
I have to turn off the radio at 10 pm when they come to bed.
Later.
Well,
it's all over, or more or less anyway. I've been running the store on
my tod all day, and it was like Woolworths in the rush hour. Kids
arrived from all directions, and I not only had to take the money and
give out prizes, but I also had to retrieve several kids from the
tank of water into which they fell. The weather cleared up and the
afternoon was good.
Folk dancing at the school fete
Danielle
requested a disc to be played for me today and the microphones blared
out as loud as could be for everyone to hear: “and Johnny Halliday
would now like to give a lesson on doing the twist to Miss Jill”.
Everyone roared with laughter and Johnny sang in French and then in
English “Let's Twist Again”. It was pretty good. Françoise
sold nearly every one of her 1,300 cakes so she's really happy.
Through the window I've just heard a pupil request a record of Petula
Clark for Françoise,
Danielle and me. She's singing “Chariot” or in English “I will
follow him”. My bedroom is filthy; someone's been through my
cupboard used my face towel and left my basin full of hairs, clips,
and even a broken necklace. Don't you honestly think it's mean of the
nuns to tell me to open my room up for the public with the yobs
wandering in and out all day? I do wish I'd been able to have a
bedroom this term. Still, only five more days to go. At lunchtime
Kturiou, an Indo-Chinese friend of Tien, arrived – do you remember
Kturiou, Julie? She was the Buddhist. Suzanne and her husband Claude
and their daughter Geneviève
(Françoise’s
sister and brother-in-law) and the brother of Françoise, Louis, also
arrived so we had a rare old party which lasted two hours. It was
really enjoyable for Danielle, Françoise
and I ate with them, as did a monitor from Morbier, another branch of
the Champagne school higher up in the mountains, and her fiancé.
After lunch Kturiou changed into her national costume and looked
really glorious, all Eastern in big white ankle length silk trousers
and an ankle length Suzy Wong in gold, embroidered in red and green.
She had long black hair and slightly slit eyes. She's terribly pretty
anyway, as Julie will tell you, but she looked really stunning in her
outfit. I was really livid that I had no film left in my camera to
take her photo because I'd used up the last exposure on the girls
doing their traditional dances. It's nearly 8:30 and the fete is
still hanging on with about a dozen people. I haven't had any
breakfast and at a polite lunch at 12:30 with nothing since, so my
tummy's giving out traditional noises. Johnny Halliday is giving his
twist lesson again, but only in French. Oh I'm so sleepy! I'll not
bother to take study in the morning. I wonder what I'll be doing this
time next week.
Jeanette,
the 14 year old sister of Françoise
wants an English pen-friend, so I wondered if Joan Slade had one or
not. They are about the same age and Jeanette is really nice and
speaks the language very well. Also maybe some of ther friends would
like to write to some of Joan’s friends. [...] Also Jeanette wants
to come to England with Françoise
next year and so they'd be able to meet, wouldn't they? Still, maybe
Joan doesn't want to write.
Well,
I've certainly excelled myself with writing haven't I? I guess I
better leave off about now or you'll still be reading when I get
home. I'm really longing to be with you all again but have been
telling everyone here that I don't want to leave. I've had more
offers of going as a student to Besançon university from the
director and his wife when they learned that their daughter had
struck up a friendship with me. It's when they offer me a free
education there that I look interested though I’ve been literally
big by the nuns to come back, but I don't think I can stand another
year of this bedroom.
Anyway
I hope to pass those GCEs. Ta-ta for now. See you Saturday evening
7:00 pm Heathrow or 8:00 pm Cromwell Road.
