Next morning, 1 November 1962
Allow me to describe the scenery of this beautiful mountain region at this time of the morning. Pitch black and foggy. Could be Battersea out there for all I can tell. After this study period the rest of the morning is mine. Some mornings I have additional study periods to take but that's not before 10:00am. That leaves me two hours each morning to do exactly as I like in. Actually I've never done exactly as I like because I don't think the nuns would approve of me driving their horrid Deux Chevaux into the river.
Last night I took the older girls for English and discovered that some of them are in fact older than me. I was trying to explain the difference to them between 'Mother' and 'Mummy' when somehow we got onto the subject of you Julie. They'd already heard that I'd got a sister and wanted to know all about her. So I spent the whole of the next hour telling them just what you were really like! All praise of course. They wanted to know how old I was. I don't know if I've told you how young they all look here. Most of them would pass for twelve easily. They all gaped when I told them I was only seventeen. They must have been mistaking me for Methuselah, they seemed so surprised.
Fortunately they still treat me like Lady Muck. I was worried that when they realised I was only their age they'd start playing me up in lessons but they haven't. They learned lots of new words last night and I learned some too so it's been very beneficial to all of us.
Yesterday I went up on to the Clos and found an apple tree overburdened with apples. So like Helpful, or whoever it was in the Pilgrim's Progress, I lightened its load. Returning with my arms filled with fruit I came upon a sunny patch amongst some long mountain grass. There was a wonderful view down onto the Loue. I could clearly see the neighbouring village of Buffard with the mist-shrouded mountains rolling away into the vague blue distance of Switzerland. The scenery was really wonderful, just like the illustrations in Heidi.
Later.
I'm now sitting out on the Clos again in blazing sunshine. It's really warm and pleasant here because there's no wind. When that blows it's icy cold. Behind me is a statue of Our Lady. In all the villages there are statues and altars to her by the roadside. Even in the mountains one is apt to come across such statues in any sheltered spots. I've found several amongst the roots of the sapins (fir trees) that grow here. These are everywhere and grow to a terrific height. They're the real Christmas trees. There's one to my left, standing apart from the others, with shrubs and bushes in bright reds and yellows mixed with gold at the foot of it. The autumn colours mix with the green of the sapin which rises clear into a sky far bluer than we seem to get in England. Below me is the village of Champagne, lying calm and peaceful. The only activity is from a farmer who I think is hoeing a field by hand. It's a very old world here without tractors or combine harvesters. He's singing a French song. Now he's started to whistle "Stranger on the shore". Sound really does travel.
To my left, near the sapin, is a flock of sheep which roam free here on the Clos, being kept together by their leader who wears a bell around its neck which continually clangs to tell the shepherd where to find his flock. Across the Loue I can see Buffard with the fromagerie its predominant feature. I can just discern a few people moving about but, like Champagne, it all seems to be asleep. Not really the sort of place a West End beatnik would choose to hang out in.
I'm sitting at the edge of a forest of pines which stretches up the hillside behind me. A nun is just walking through the orchard below with Gitan. She's outlined against a mass of autumn leaves and fits into the picture to perfection. I do wish I really could draw. Oh dear I think she's seen me and wants to talk. I do hope not as I've not got my dictionary with me and it will entail an even more difficult and laboured conversation than normal. She's out of sight now so perhaps she's not coming after all. I've got here a huge apple that must weigh at least a pound that I picked from a tree in the valley on my way up. It's all red and juicy and delicious. The farmer, by the way, I can now see was cutting winter fodder for his cattle and has just wheeled off a huge barrow-full.
There's a herd of cattle lowing somewhere and a family of geese have just waddled along below, stopping every now and then to peer about them inquisitively. Gitan has just seen me and is tearing up the Clos to greet me. Whoops, no he's not. He's just seen the sheep instead. There they all go, Gitan barking, sheep bleating, bells ringing madly. I've just seen two huge black birds take flight and soar gracefully off. No matter which way I look I can see mountains. The larger, distant ones toward Switzerland looming blue and hazy, the nearer ones an array of colour, one completely clothed in sapins. Tiny villages are tucked away in the hollows and the sky is so very blue. The village clock has just struck noon and the chapel bell is ringing to summon the nuns to the Angelus. School has just finished for the morning and I can hear the girls calling to each other and generally rejoicing that they've got two hours of leisure before afternoon school. I'd best be going down now as there's another nun approaching and I don't want to have to talk at present. Oh the first nun has reappeared and they're gossiping. Golly, a third nun has joined them. Must be clan gathering day. The village bell in Buffard is just ringing midday.
Their clock must be slow. I'll leave you now. This really doesn't sound like me.
I'm a poet at heart but it rarely shows.
Later.
It's so lovely here I've returned yet again to my mountain and my sheep are clanging away as usual. Would you believe, one of the sisters told me there wouldn't be any ball games today because the girls were going to visit the Great Lord Mayor. I asked innocently which Lord Mayor, thinking they were perhaps going to Besançon and was told it was the Lord Mayor of Champagne! One shop, no pubs, three farms and a Lord Mayor! Not even an ordinary Mayor like Croydon, but a Lord Mayor! Do you suppose he has a personal secretary, you know, a cow with a good speed at shorthand or a chicken that operates a typewriter? If the post isn't already filled by a sheep I think I will apply to be town clerk. He's sure to have a vacancy on his staff somewhere for an English idiot like me.
Sœur Martine spends her time divided between the two convents of her order, so many days here and so many at the other, right on the Swiss border. As I've not seen her today I presume she must have gone there this morning though I'm not sure.
The nuns here are delighted with me and keep telling me I'll soon be able to speak French very fast. A while ago they said it would be by Easter, now they say by Christmas. They also say I've got the accent okay. Whether they mean it I don't know, but since they told me I find I just can't manage to fit all my head into my bedroom and have to leave the rest in the garden over night.
The nuns here are delighted with me and keep telling me I'll soon be able to speak French very fast. A while ago they said it would be by Easter, now they say by Christmas. They also say I've got the accent okay. Whether they mean it I don't know, but since they told me I find I just can't manage to fit all my head into my bedroom and have to leave the rest in the garden over night.
Champagne-sur-Loue, 3 November 1962.
Today is Saturday and it's 9:15am, which, incidentally, is only 8:15 in England. Therefore when I get up to take a study period at 7:15 it's really only 6:15. Small wonder I feel so sleepy each morning!
It's pouring with rain here, and just as in England the rain when it falls is really wet! The sky is a dirty grey colour and everywhere looks dark and gloomy. I've just waded across the attic to put something into my case which lives up there and the rain was clanging away on the tiles and trickling in, soaking Jill all over.
Surprisingly, rather than depressing me the rain has actually cheered me up and I've been feeling really happy and singing all morning. Perhaps it because I've realised it's not so very different from England and after all rain's the same everywhere. I feel fresher and more awake and it's much warmer although there's a wind whistling around outside. The mountains can just be glimpsed occasionally through a break in the cloud and look all misty. The rest of the time they're blotted out. When you do see them they seem very odd because the tops are in the very low hanging cloud and they appear completely flat.
I've just about cultivated French table manners. The general idea is firstly to stick your elbows on the table throughout the entire meal. Then to ladle out the soup and consume it without bread from a bowl the size you could float the Queen Mary in and replace your spoon upside down on the table cloth. Next dive for the water jug and pour some into a glass the size of a thimble. Grab a chunk of bread from the basket and put it down on the table cloth beside you. It's then necessary to take it up again and, placing one side of it in your left hand and the other in your right, move your arms in opposite directions, thus rending the bread in two. This process is continued until you have a pile of pieces of almost edible size. It is necessary to follow these directions explicitly if you wish to be a complete success. One mistake and as far as the French are concerned you're finished and regarded by then as a total failure. Having arrived thus far, you now continue by ramming one of these "lumps" of bread into your mouth and chewing it, like a cow on the cud, while awaiting the arrival of the next course.
When this finally arrives you discover it's a huge hunk of meat, and in case you don't know, the French like their meat rare. That is, about half cooked at the maximum. The acceptable procedure now is to pick up your fork with your left hand, transfer it to your right and, using it prongs uppermost, proceed to rend the meat apart using only the fork and your left hand. (You can't use the knife, if you do that's cheating and you're disqualified.) After half an hour, if you're lucky, you eventually manage to break away a piece of edible proportions, which you devour with another chunk of the previously mentioned bread. You then repeat the process but this time, instead of using your fingers as your second tool, you use a lump of the bread. This is because by now you're an expert and they like to make it harder.
By the time you've finished eating this partly cooked meat and the hunk of bread, you've got shocking indigestion and can well understand why it takes the French a minimum of two hours for their lunch. Next however come the vegetables. Potatoes are more than rare and are only eaten on high days and holidays as a special treat. I never did know how one ate artichokes! No mention of this course, it just doesn't bear mentioning!
Worse however is to come. Entrée des haricots! Same plate, bowl or tank as you used for the soup still. Serve out les haricots in long strings. With you fork you precariously wind up the beans and gingerly move them towards your mouth and dive suddenly forward in an attempt to transfer then, minus the fork, to your interior. More often than not to begin with, the whole lot is apt to unwind before you can engulf it. Then you must begin all over again, not forgetting to consume large quantities of bread the while. Encore de l'eau. You exert your brain to think how to ask the person half a mile down the table to pass you this precious liquid and usually say the wrong thing, ending up with wine instead.
Next it's time for the cheese. You hold your nose while a procession of dishes arrives loaded with various cheeses. This is all right once you've finally tried all the cheeses and sorted out the ones you like but can be an awful ordeal to begin with. (By this time you've licked clean your fork and put it back on the tablecloth beside your spoon and you're still using the same bowl, remember.) Now comes the great moment when you're allowed to use your knife! With the greatest reverence you take it up, tenderly insert it into the cheese - and cut! Now you use it as a shovel to push the cheese onto the lumps of bread which are in turn shovelled into your mouth like coal into a boiler. This course concluded and still using the same plate, it's time for the sweet which you eat with a teaspoon, always, always, always! This course is followed by fruit. Usually this is an apple which you pare very carefully with your cheesy knife. The fruit itself you keep on the table cloth but can now use your plate as a rubbish bin to catch the peelings and core.
Finally you have coffee. Black and terrifically strong from a percolator on the table. Of course you use the glass you've had for water or wine and if it still happens to be half full of either, it's just too bad.
Finally you have coffee. Black and terrifically strong from a percolator on the table. Of course you use the glass you've had for water or wine and if it still happens to be half full of either, it's just too bad.
The meal concluded, you've consumed seven different courses and coffee and used one bowl, glass, knife, fork, dessert spoon and teaspoon. Saves on washing up! Since you've now "dined" with me perhaps you'll now excuse me for my siesta.
Later.
It's now about 4:00pm. I've finished the birds’ heads and feet and also the Egyptians. Danielle's parents have just arrived to take her home for the weekend. Lucky devil, this evening and tomorrow in civilization. I do envy her.
Danielle teaches drawing as well as needlework and she's a genius at both. You should see some of her work. It's outstanding and so neat. I'd not realised that artists and needlework teachers could like pop music and jazz before. I asked her if she'd ever visited the Louvre and would you believe, she's not even visited Paris!
At lunch time one of the nuns rushed in and said there'd be no ball games today. Naturally I cheered but was cut short by her turning to the school and announcing in
French "It's too wet for your horrid ball games today so Miss Jill has kindly offered to teach you all gymnastics in the cellar." (I'd done no such thing!) A mighty cheer went up and I was dragged off for one hour in the cellar trying to give them a P. E. lesson. You can all imagine how I enjoyed that! I racked my brains to try and remember some of the things we'd done at school but as we'd no apparatus in the cellar and as I'd never bothered to go to the school P. E. lessons anyway, it was more than difficult! However, I eventually devised two team games and managed, with my limited command of French, to explain these to them. To my very great relief they loved the games and there were shrieks of delight from everyone. They say they hope it's raining again tomorrow so that I'll teach them some more games. I hope it's not! Anyway, I've got to give them these lessons all winter so if you can think of any team games please let me know. I think I'll start them off on rounders or netball tomorrow if I have to give them a lesson. Can't you just see our school gym teacher gloating if she only knew? If you all sit back and imagine it, it should give you a laugh, which will make it all worth my while.
I've just been told there's four days half term next week and one of the girls has invited me to spend it at her home at Arc-et-Senans. Another has asked me to spend Christmas with her family at Salins-les-Bains. It's nice of them considering I've not been here a fortnight yet isn't it? If Mère Pierre agrees, I'll accept the invitations.
Civilization here I come!
Champagne-sur-Loue, [undated, probably Monday 5 November 1962]
I don't now know if I'm going to spend Thursday to Sunday with this girl in Salins or not. I rather hope not really as I've decided I don't like her much. I think this is because she follows me around looking gawky. I know I'm something rare and beautiful but there's hardly any need for her to go out of her way to stare at me is there? It's quite unnerving and the thought of four days of it makes me shudder. Unless I can develop a rapid cold or something I suppose I'll have to go, though I'd really prefer to stay here in splendid isolation with the nuns. I would at least be able to see the town though and do some of the hundreds of things I'm longing to do. I'd be able to buy a warm skirt if I saw one cheap. Being me, I've spotted this Terylene check one with ink but it's not too bad. It's the only one I've used so far because it's warm and useful for the classroom and as the pleats stay in doesn't look like a dish rag.
This morning I got a postcard from Monique in very dodgy English. I also got a huge letter and a copy of the N.M.E. [New Musical Express] from Margaret. It cost her 1s. 2d [£0.06] to send it. That's really dear but she says she'll do it every week and says she'll also send me a couple of records every now and then which I can return when I come back. The letter, as you can imagine, is typically Margaret and she holds forth on the impossibility of living without jukeboxes and record players as well as no nail varnish or face cream. She sincerely advises me to catch the next plane back to civilization but promises to do her best to bring it to me if I won't accept her advice. I was really horrified to discover that I've been out here so long already that I know less than half the records in the top 30! Appalling isn't it? I'll soon be the squarest square in Squaresville! I'll need a complete overhaul when I come home.
This morning the bath again got me. I thought I'd mastered the technique and jumped in only to jump rapidly out again uttering shrieks of agony and looking remarkably like a boiled lobster. After running the cold tap for ages I again jumped in only to exit as rapidly looking this time like a frostbitten lobster. If you're aware of what a frostbitten lobster looks like, you'll know what I mean; if you've never seen a frostbitten lobster, use your imagination.
The nuns still haven't mentioned paying me. What should I do? Remind them or wait and hope they remember? They may be going to pay me monthly but if not and I ask in two weeks time they may not pay me for the last month and only start paying me from then. Oh dear, what to do. I'll probably spend all my money over half term as I need so many things. Which reminds me. Stockings here cost five shillings [£0.25] a pair for ordinary nylon, not even mesh! They're the cheapest which if you ask me isn't cheap. Sanitary towels too are five shillings for ten! Call that cheap! That's 6d each, it's disgusting!
What else can I moan about? Oh yes, yesterday I was dragged off for a horrible walk to Arc-et-Senans, about a million miles away. Well it's on the railway so that'll show you how far it is! Off we all set in nice sunshine and, after about half an hour, down came the rain. On we trekked and arrived at Arc-et-Senans, so cold and wet that Jane Eyre's got
What else can I moan about? Oh yes, yesterday I was dragged off for a horrible walk to Arc-et-Senans, about a million miles away. Well it's on the railway so that'll show you how far it is! Off we all set in nice sunshine and, after about half an hour, down came the rain. On we trekked and arrived at Arc-et-Senans, so cold and wet that Jane Eyre's got
nothing on me! We then proceeded to look around a building erected for Louis XIV to keep his salt in. I hadn't realised there were two people who needed salt cellars that size, him and you Henri. It was a vast building and absolutely horrible. Icy cold, wind whistling round, no roof and rain pouring all over us. One nun kept asking me if I didn't find it all most awfully interesting and I had to agree and try to think of bright remarks to make in French, which on a cold engine isn't easy! Having assured her, as we waded knee deep through sopping wet grass and bushes, that it was a most fascinating door knocker, nail, lump of stone or whatever, we staggered homeward where this horrible little pest that wants me to go and stay with her kept up a constant chatter, treating me as if I was stone deaf and a complete imbecile. She kept asking me to talk to her in English, sing in English and kept asking such banal questions as, "Do they have cows in England?" She didn't even know England had a Queen or that the Mass in England is exactly the same as in France. And I've got to spend four days with her. I only hope she's got some decent brothers of a suitable age.
We arrived back at the school with me not in the best of tempers and this little wretch still jabbering away in my right ear as loudly as she possibly could and I was so frozen that I couldn't even pick up a bowl of tea as my hands were completely numb. There wasn't even a fire or anything. Like I said, Jane Eyre lived in the lap of luxury compared to me. It's all so antiquated here that they've never even heard of such things as combine harvesters. Actually I wouldn't mind betting half of them had never even heard of England before I arrived and just pretend they have.
How about sending me the Croydon Advertiser from time to time along with my records, coat and the many other things I expect I'll be yelling for? Don't go to much bother, but it would enable me to keep up with Croydon's reconstruction.
How about sending me the Croydon Advertiser from time to time along with my records, coat and the many other things I expect I'll be yelling for? Don't go to much bother, but it would enable me to keep up with Croydon's reconstruction.
Tuesday [6 November?] is dawning.
Weather forecast until this time tomorrow, "dull, wet, windy, freezing and horrible."
Well I've done it! I've got out of going to stay with that girl. I said I was waiting for a very urgent letter from England and must be here when it arrives, so you'd better make your next letter very urgent! I told her I was very upset and even managed with difficulty to look it. I said I'd have loved to have come but maybe she could ask me another time. Unfortunately she said she would but I hope she'll forget. It is typical that I should be invited by the one girl I can't stand isn't it? Still she can't help it, I suppose, and it was nice of her to ask me. Fortunately I haven't gone and hurt her feelings.
Well I've done it! I've got out of going to stay with that girl. I said I was waiting for a very urgent letter from England and must be here when it arrives, so you'd better make your next letter very urgent! I told her I was very upset and even managed with difficulty to look it. I said I'd have loved to have come but maybe she could ask me another time. Unfortunately she said she would but I hope she'll forget. It is typical that I should be invited by the one girl I can't stand isn't it? Still she can't help it, I suppose, and it was nice of her to ask me. Fortunately I haven't gone and hurt her feelings.
You can imagine me from tomorrow lunchtime until 9:30am on Monday, all on my own with cold water, rain, snow and nuns. Even Danielle and Françoise are going home. Every single person except me. Still, I'll be able to lie in every morning until all hours as there'll be nobody to wake me. Mère Pierre will take me to Mouchard or Salins or even Dijon one day so I will still be able to do my shopping.
What are you doing for November 5th? They've never heard of Guy Fawkes here and the Sisters are hardly likely to build a huge bonfire and supply me with fireworks are they? Still it would be fun.
Later.
It's now nearly 5:30pm and I'm installed in the kitchen as the warmest place I can find. I'll be taking the evening study soon. This morning I did my washing. As they've apparently never seen an English girl doing her washing before the nuns turned out to en masse to watch. There I was, up to my eyes in soapsuds and swamped by an enormous apron the nuns told me I'd have to wear. I don't know if it was meant to keep me warm, clean or dry but it achieved all three to perfection. Armfuls of smalls and the nuns prodding about to see how I was getting on. Mère Pierre told me if I wanted them dried quickly they would hang them out for me in the convent. I hurriedly assured her that it didn't matter how long they took drying and tried not to imagine what the village priest would think on his daily visit to the convent if he saw bikini briefs, slips and whatnots dangling about amongst the nuns’ long coms! Fortunately I was also saved the inconvenience of having to tramp several miles across bogs and mires to hang them on the fence. Françoise told me that the attic has been fitted out with lines for use by the staff. As that consists of Danielle, Françoise and me it gives us about ten lines each. Danielle does all her washing at home anyway at the weekends, so I have tons of space though I'd sooner hang them out of doors really because, although the wind whistles round up there, it doesn't seem a normal sort of place to dry clothes to me. Well all I need to do now is to find a convenient time when the nuns are all in chapel and the girls are in school so's I'll have some peace and then I can iron them all.
Françoise is asking me the names of dozens of things in English and also telling me them in French. We have terrific fun and when I can be bothered I help her with the cooking. I'm learning some crazy French recipes and she's learning as much English as she can because she wants to show off to her parents and her kid sister when she goes home for half term tomorrow. Danielle's been jazzing around shrieking "Bye bye love" at me whenever she sees me and the kids all keep saying "I love you very much darling. Thank you baby." They would want to learn useful phrases like that for the holiday. They'll probably be saying them to every Jean, Jacques or Claude they meet. Seriously though, this English is becoming a craze. Last night I went to bed early and was still awake when they came up and heard them all saying "Goodnight" in English. It really cheered me as they were saying it because they genuinely wanted to talk in English. They love their English lessons and look forward to them. So do I, as they're beneficial to me also and constitute an amusing hour and a half for all of us. The nuns have been asking me to give them lessons over half term but I don't expect I will. They keep coming to ask me the names of things in English and they can all now say "Good morning Miss Jill, did you sleep well?" which they couldn't do when I arrived.
[Tuesday] 6th November.
It's half term and I've got nothing to do for four days. Last night I went to the station with Mère Pierre to meet Tienne, an Indo Chinese girl who is spending her holiday at the school. She is studying chemistry at the University in Besançon for three years before returning to Vietnam where she lives.
She and I are all on our own here in the school and get all our own food and everything. She speaks Vietnamese and I speak English but we have to communicate in French. She speaks French very well and also some English so we manage well enough and use the odd word of Spanish when we don't know the French or English for something. As neither of us really knows any Spanish this is rare. She is a very nice girl and understands English a lot better than she is able to speak it. Unfortunately she's only here until Monday when she will return to Besançon.
I'm very glad now that I didn't go to that girl's home. It's much better here and Tienne is coming for Christmas too so I won't be on my own then either. Life's looking a lot better. We're going for walks and to the towns but I do wish the nuns would pay me because I'll soon be right out of money at this rate. When Sœur Martine returns I'll ask her how they intend to give me my pocket money, weekly or monthly.
Champagne-sur-Loue, [Thursday] 8 November 1962.
[Forgive the non-racist racist remarks that follow, the innocent words of a young woman long ago.] This morning I received the tights, for which I thank you. They make me look like a Jamaican. I've never actually seen a half caste but imagine one must look much like me. Lily white arms and chocolate brown legs. They're a bit big over my hips but the feet are perfect. As for the legs, well I've got rather long legs so have to stretch the tights to make them fit. As the hips are large and the legs short they're inclined to slip down a bit, but fear not, Jill is in no great danger of publicly losing them. They're lovely and warm but it does seem strange to look down and see my brown legs. They've caused quite a stir here but the novelty will soon wear off and I'll be left in peace.
Friday morning [9th November].
I thought I'd report to you the terrible tale of the girl who got out of bed the wrong side. This morning about 3:00am Jill found it necessary to make a night time pilgrimage to a certain shrine down the corridor. I'm sure you are familiar with the expressions "old habits are hard to break" and "don't get out of bed on the wrong side". The most convenient, indeed the only, way to get out of my bed is on the left side, and even this is precarious because, the mattress engulfs the bed frame and the whole apparatus is liable to collapse beneath one if not sufficiently careful. As regards the habit, you will recall that at home I generally exit by the right side and am usually nine tenths asleep when I start on such a journey and so bash some part of my anatomy on the chair by my bed. I was in a similar state when I started on my journey this morning. Naturally the first stage was to get up. This I accomplished but unfortunately took the right hand fork instead of the left. This is known as getting out of bed the wrong side and also finding it difficult to break a habit. As I happened to have a rough plastered wall on that side it didn't do me much good and this morning I've more bruises than a windfall apple.
However, I still didn't wake up when I crashed against the wall as I imagined I'd simply stumbled into the chair by my bed at home. I simply uttered a foul curse, fortunately in English, for by this time the four French girls in their cubicles were wide awake, and had another go, flinging myself against the wall imagining that by now I had avoided the chair. The wall shook. The girl in the bed on the other side of the wall promptly fell out. I knocked myself pretty well unconscious, and all the plaster fell off the wall all over me and that is how they found me this morning - plastered! (There may be just a few minor exaggerations in this account!)
Later.
As I've this date for a lung x-ray, I thought I'd best take a bath this morning. The bathroom with the real bath in was occupied so I decided to risk it and take a shower bath. This would have been fine if I'd waited until I was undressed before fiddling with the taps to find out how the contraption worked. How was I to know the water would squirt out with such force? Well I got my shower bath and also my hair and clothes washed at the same time. I'm still airing off. NEVER again!
I retired as gracefully as possible to my boudoir to dry out and was just in the last stages of doing so when there was a clomping sound and three Frenchmen wandered in. Ignoring the fact that I wasn't looking my most presentable and was not exactly respectably attired, they stomped around chatting to me in French, while I stood there trying to look as if I was as dry as a bone and had enough clothes on to keep myself warm and respectable. They measured the length of the room and eventually wandered off. Never a dull moment here! At least I'd be bored stiff if it wasn't that I deliberately look for the amusing aspect in everything to keep me happy. And it works you know. At first I was ever so miserable until I got used to it, and now, what with finding everything so funny, I'm really happy, though I still miss everyone a lot.
Yesterday I met the priest I mentioned in my last letter. He was in London for sixteen months during the war and was for nine months at London University. He knows every inch of Croydon, as it was seven years ago when he last visited it. He also knows Plymouth where he was stationed during the war. Naturally he speaks English fluently and we got on well together. He speaks Russian every bit as well as he speaks English so you see he's a very clever man. He's promised to bring me some English books to read when he next comes (he comes every month), and also some books with English and French translations.. He's also going to get me some prayer books in English and French and has said if there was ever anything I wanted he'd be only too happy to get it for me. He even offered to get me some cigarettes if I smoked. He said when he was in England the English were very good to him and that being helpful to me was the only way he had of repaying the British for their kindness. Wasn't that lovely? I reckon it's a jolly good way of repaying them, what do you think?
Yesterday I met the priest I mentioned in my last letter. He was in London for sixteen months during the war and was for nine months at London University. He knows every inch of Croydon, as it was seven years ago when he last visited it. He also knows Plymouth where he was stationed during the war. Naturally he speaks English fluently and we got on well together. He speaks Russian every bit as well as he speaks English so you see he's a very clever man. He's promised to bring me some English books to read when he next comes (he comes every month), and also some books with English and French translations.. He's also going to get me some prayer books in English and French and has said if there was ever anything I wanted he'd be only too happy to get it for me. He even offered to get me some cigarettes if I smoked. He said when he was in England the English were very good to him and that being helpful to me was the only way he had of repaying the British for their kindness. Wasn't that lovely? I reckon it's a jolly good way of repaying them, what do you think?
Incidentally, my hair is growing rapidly and I'm experimenting with various new styles as you're not here to make me get it cut, mum. I think I'll cycle to Liesle now and post some letters so will continue later.
Later.
Well I'm back and have been having a chat in the kitchen with Françoise who likes my new hairstyle.
My coat still hasn't arrived but one of the nuns told me that's not at all unusual round here as it's awkward to deliver and it's probably still lying in Mouchard post office getting mouldy. I will ask Mère Pierre if she will collect it for me later.
I've just been given some heavenly news. No P. E. today! I haven't got to devise a new game for the kids, Whoopie! For why? Because the lazy lot are all going to stare at the square screen for the afternoon. Wonder if I could join then. I feel like seeing a film. Lunchtime now so will continue this epistle another time.
I've just been given some heavenly news. No P. E. today! I haven't got to devise a new game for the kids, Whoopie! For why? Because the lazy lot are all going to stare at the square screen for the afternoon. Wonder if I could join then. I feel like seeing a film. Lunchtime now so will continue this epistle another time.
Saturday’s dawning [10 November].
If you've never fused the lights in a girls' boarding school on a winter's night, you've really never started to live! Amongst my many other accomplishments I can now include this incident. I turned on the lamp by my bed but as nothing happened I went to the wall plug, which is two pinned, and made sure it was in correctly. Still nothing, so I turned the plug the other way up and pushed it in hard. You've heard the song "Spring will be a little late this year", well that could be applied to my November 5th! It arrived at exactly 8:30pm last night, for as I rammed home the plug the fireworks started. Blue sparks to begin with, very pretty but really should have been labelled "not to be held in the hand," I know, I was holding it! Then came the red and yellow display and all the lights in the school started to flicker and flash. They finally collapsed and gave out, and so did the fireworks. It was all very spectacular though it only lasted a matter of seconds. I groped my way downstairs to find Françoise who arrived with all the necessary equipment and got to work repairing the fuse while Danielle and I stood around looking, (it was dark so we couldn't see each other, but I presume we were looking), helpless.
I saw the film here yesterday. It had Marlon Brando looking as 'cor' as ever. Although it was an American film it had the soundtrack changed so I couldn't understand much of the language but followed by the pictures. In the film a horrible thug gave poor old Brando a facial change and all the girls here were howling. Consequently they couldn't work properly afterwards so I was asked to give them an extra English lesson as it was the only thing they seemed prepared to concentrate on. And how they concentrated! I reckon most of them want the stuff to put in letters to their boyfriends judging by the words they wanted me to translate! When I asked why they needed those particular words they all went red and started giggling. I had such a job trying to keep a straight face. In fact, I don't even think I did. The girls are learning English very quickly and I'm already asking them questions like, "How old are you?" or "How many pets have you? Have you a cat, dog, bird, brother, sister" etc. They love it and I'm very gratified by their enthusiasm. During yesterday's lesson I asked one girl what pets she had and she told me she only had one, it was very small and called Maurice and that he was "un petit pou." I discovered this meant louse! How everyone laughed.
I saw the film here yesterday. It had Marlon Brando looking as 'cor' as ever. Although it was an American film it had the soundtrack changed so I couldn't understand much of the language but followed by the pictures. In the film a horrible thug gave poor old Brando a facial change and all the girls here were howling. Consequently they couldn't work properly afterwards so I was asked to give them an extra English lesson as it was the only thing they seemed prepared to concentrate on. And how they concentrated! I reckon most of them want the stuff to put in letters to their boyfriends judging by the words they wanted me to translate! When I asked why they needed those particular words they all went red and started giggling. I had such a job trying to keep a straight face. In fact, I don't even think I did. The girls are learning English very quickly and I'm already asking them questions like, "How old are you?" or "How many pets have you? Have you a cat, dog, bird, brother, sister" etc. They love it and I'm very gratified by their enthusiasm. During yesterday's lesson I asked one girl what pets she had and she told me she only had one, it was very small and called Maurice and that he was "un petit pou." I discovered this meant louse! How everyone laughed.
All the nuns are delighted and keep saying I'm a good teacher but I doubt it myself. I enjoy teaching these girls a lot but would hate to teach a class full of English girls. No, I'm sticking to the library. Every morning now when I arrive to take the study I've arranged for a different girl to write the date in English on the board ready for me. I still get some funny variations but they're improving. Today it was correct, or as correct as it can be from what I've taught them. "Saturday, ten November." I've only taught them numbers and not first, second etc as I think that will confuse them at this stage.
Sunday afternoon [11th November].
I'm rushing as I'm hoping to go to Liesle to see Danielle and want to post this while I'm there. Yesterday I went to Besançon with Mère Pierre and Nellie,(one of the pupils. She's older than me but doesn't know it.) Shops all over France are open until about 7:30 every evening! Poor shop girls, how they do work! Have you ever been shopping with a nun to buy her a pair of slippers? You haven't! Nor fused the lights in a French girls school! I'm really living! To begin with, these slippers must not only be usable as slippers but also for paddling and wading around the countryside in. They must be black patent on the outside and have a furry lining within. They must be in a style suitable for the Mother Superior of a convent. Additionally they must be in a size so small that the shop hasn't got anything at all in that size regardless of style. In, out, in, out, all around the shops in Besançon as if it was a new dance step! Eventually however she was satisfied and we then had to buy some material for a dressing gown and two nightdresses for the girls. Mère Pierre has every single material that would be remotely suitable for either out and took up two whole counters with them. She was there for over an hour choosing while the poor girl serving her got back-ache carting the bales about. However she did no persuading and just kept showing more materials until Mère Pierre was quite muddled.
We eventually escaped and did lots more incidental shopping. I saw thousands of lovely things I'd like and we went into three huge stores. The town seemed bigger than Croydon but I suppose it's got about the same facilities. Everywhere was decorated for Christmas and looked lovely. I really enjoyed myself and was sorry to come home. I got separated from the others about six times and wandered about on my own very happily because I knew where the car was. Mère Pierre and Nellie usually found me and were unduly worried whenever they thought I was lost.
I had my date with the lung x-ray person but it was so disappointing I'm not even going to try to be funny about it. I understood everything that was said and it was over in a minute.
I had my date with the lung x-ray person but it was so disappointing I'm not even going to try to be funny about it. I understood everything that was said and it was over in a minute.
Later.
I was on the point of finishing this letter when one of the nuns entered followed by two of the girl guides who were here at half term. Marie-Thérèse, who has the penfriend in Birmingham, and her best friend, Claire. This time they were accompanied by Bernadette, Marie-Thérèse's kid sister who is thirteen. It was a complete surprise to me as I hadn't been expecting them or in fact ever thought to see them again. They'd cycled twenty kilometres from Arbois, just to see me. Wasn't it nice of them? Bernadette had just started to learn English at school so Mum had sent her along for a buckshee lesson. A long way to come for it, twenty kilometres each way!
I was naturally delighted to see them and it was only chance they caught me in as, if I'd not intended going to see Danielle this afternoon I'd have gone for the usual walk with the girls, and if I'd not stopped to finish your letter I'd have gone to Danielle's.
I was naturally delighted to see them and it was only chance they caught me in as, if I'd not intended going to see Danielle this afternoon I'd have gone for the usual walk with the girls, and if I'd not stopped to finish your letter I'd have gone to Danielle's.
I feel rather awkward about Danielle really as I was supposed to meet her at 5:30pm. yesterday and Mère Pierre assured me she had to be back from Besançon by 5:00pm to take Sœur Martine somewhere. This would just allow me time to cycle to Liesle.
Unfortunately she forgot the time and then realised it would be too late to take Sœur Martine anyway so spent longer in Besançon instead. So I missed Danielle at the station. I do hope she didn't wait too long. My intention was to go to her home this afternoon to apologise as that was the least I could do. However, when the guides turned up I couldn't walk out and leave them could I? I'll just have to search around and try to construct a letter in French to leave with her Mum or Aunt during the day tomorrow as she'll not be home from work until 8:00pm.
Mère Pierre was so pleased I'd got some friends come especially to visit me and while we were chatting she secretly got a smashing tea ready which she then presented to us. Coloured tray mats, the convent's very best china teacups - they even had handles to them and there were real saucers! Hot chocolate, fresh French bread, butter, honey, biscuits and candied fruit. It was delicious and a complete surprise. Wasn't it kind and thoughtful of her? Of course we didn't actually have any plates, that would have been expecting too much!
Marie-Thérese said her Mum thought it a good idea and agreed to me spending Christmas at their home in Arbois as it would help the girls with their English and save me being on my own here over the holiday. I like Marie-Thérese a lot, she's really so funny and happy and, as I'm not in love with Tienne and Hildigo, I've accepted. They really are nice girls so I think I'll be very happy with them over Christmas though of course I'm bound to feel a little homesick for you all. You needn't worry about me, I'll be fine with them and I can go any time after 17th December when the holidays at Arbois commence.
Champagne-sur-Loue, [9th November 1962].
A Hungarian girl, Hildigo, has now joined us here. She is nineteen, nearly twenty and as Tienne is twenty three I'm the baby. Actually I can never be anything but the baby here because as I've already said, some of the pupils are older than me and the staff, other than Françoise and Danielle, are the nuns and one other teacher, Mme Servant, all of whom could be any age, but years older than me.
On Tuesday evening before half term began I went to bed early while the pupils were having a dancing lesson downstairs. I doubt you've ever tried to get to sleep in a bed several sizes too small for you with twenty hefty girls learning Russian folk dancing in the room below you. That's bad enough, but when you happen to be English and the girls French, learning dances with Russian singing, and the instructions shouted out in French, sleep becomes difficult. As if that isn't enough, the following evening Tienne and Hildigo, the foreign girls from Besançon University arrived. One English, one Hungarian, one Indo-Chinese and we spent the evening playing Russian, Israeli, Scottish and Scandinavian music with two of the nuns, and, yes you're right, one of the nuns was French and the other Spanish!
Hildigo has said that the nuns have several bicycles in the convent that I can use if I want to. Not the kind of transport I would choose but beggars can't be choosers can they? At least I'll be able to go further in my time off which at the moment is long enough for me to get bored in but not long enough for me to go anywhere. So while the weather permits I'll make the most of it and travel around on one of their rusty old bikes. At least I'll be able to get my own back on those horrid Deux Chevaux!
Saturday.
Saturday
Club is blaring away "Venus in blue jeans." Do you realise
I've now been here nearly a month and I've only just over six months
before I come home! Does that cheer you up? It does me. Last night I
found Radio Luxembourg and it's much clearer than in England as we're
a lot nearer here. I'm really happy that I'm catching up with my pop
music and the English news. I can tell what your weather will be
every day as I listen to the 8:00am. news and think of you all going
out in blazing sunshine and getting soaked later.
Our
party here is growing, for last night nine French girl guides arrived
and they're staying until late this afternoon. They all speak a bit
of English and one of them has spent a month in Birmingham last year
with her penfriend so she's not at all bad at the lingo. They seem to
have adopted me as they keep chatting to me. They're all going off up
the mountainside to build a bonfire and cook some food on it and
they've just come to ask me if I'd like to go with them and cook
things on their fire. Should be great fun so I'm looking forward to
that.
I've
just had a crazy idea. Would you, instead of sending me a present for
Christmas, send me money instead? (If you want to send anything that
is.) That way you won't have to pay postage and there's a Bureau de
Change in Besançon so I can then buy the things I need here. There
are so many necessities that I can't get because I've no money so it
would be more use to me that way wouldn't it? Tienne has told me she
will be coming here for Christmas so I won't be alone and I'll have
the radio and will be able to snooze in bed until midday. (Pat Boone
is now singing "Main attraction" will you see the film?
Should be good.)
I've
just received your latest letters, many thanks. No Henri, I don't
want that Hugo's French book thank you but wouldn't mind my records
please. The girls are after my blood because you haven't sent them.
Everyday they ask for them.
Talk about primitive. Last night Tienne and Hildigo were messing around with the fuse box for nearly an hour and we had the school lit by candles. I had the portable radio in the kitchen and was washing up. I kept tripping over and how I managed not to break anything is a mystery. There I was, groping around clutching a huge saucepan full of enough soup to feed the entire convent and the school for a month or two!
Talk about primitive. Last night Tienne and Hildigo were messing around with the fuse box for nearly an hour and we had the school lit by candles. I had the portable radio in the kitchen and was washing up. I kept tripping over and how I managed not to break anything is a mystery. There I was, groping around clutching a huge saucepan full of enough soup to feed the entire convent and the school for a month or two!
The
other day I found a "Teach yourself English" programme on
the radio and used it to help with my French. It was pretty good so I
may follow the course.
Later.
I've
eaten a nice burnt sausage off a stick with the girl guides and
potatoes cooked in the bottom of the fire which had more ash, dirt
and peel round them than potato in them. Then we wrapped some bananas
in silver paper and cooked them, split them open and filled them with
jam. I suppose I must look the beatnik type as they only asked me,
and Tienne and Hildigo ate their dinner in the school. More orthodox
but I bet I enjoyed mine more. Having ingested a large percentage of
soil and cinder I helped them clear up and get ready to go. Then I
borrowed one of the convent’s bikes and went about 12 kilometres
with them. One of them has asked me to spend Christmas with her in a
town about 20 kilometres from here. I don't know what to do now as
that's the third invitation already and Tienne wants me to stay here
as well. I suppose it will all sort itself out. I've been rather on
my own anyway as Tienne and Hildigo have been dress making all
yesterday and today. By the way, could you manage to send me some
wool in a nice coloured double knitting please? I don't understand
the weights here and it's expensive anyway. I'll need about 22 oz.
Don't bother if it's inconvenient. I feel so awful asking you for
everything. Sorry.
To
return to my escapade this afternoon. When I left the girls I had to
find my own way back to Champagne which wasn't easy. For a start I
seemed to annoy every driver on the road simply because I was riding
on the left. (Silly lot over here, they don't even know which side of
the road to drive on!) As I had all afternoon I decided to go to
Arc-et-Senans. They'd got a fair on but I didn't bother to stop
although it looked fun. I passed six petrol stations and all kinds of
shops! I then decided to try and find my way back through Liesle and
was getting along fine except that my "Boneyparte" was very
painful as these continental bikes don't have particularly
comfortable saddles. On I struggled when, would you believe, I got a
puncture in the back tyre. I was still miles from Champagne and as I
couldn't damage the bike much more I continued to ride it. Another
six miles on rough bumpy roads with a flat back tyre and a hard
saddle - can you wonder that I'm standing up to write this letter?
The bike clanked so loudly I could be heard approaching for miles. On
reaching Liesle I ran out of sign posts so found a woman scrubbing
her doorstep and asked her the way. After asking me if I was Algerian
and me assuring her I was simply a poor little English sheep who'd
lost its way, she fell to gossiping and told me her niece lived with
her and worked in Besançon but would be home tomorrow and that she
spoke English very well. She has made me promise to go again to the
house tomorrow afternoon for tea and to meet her niece. I expect I
will be able to go if I can find a more comfortable bike without a
puncture. After about three quarters of an hour of chat she obliged
me by giving me directions for the route home. Darkness falls quickly
here so off I rattled on my way and after a while I discovered a side
track I knew would cut off about one and a half miles. It was already
pitch dark and the track was unmade and full of holes. However I was
ever so late, so decided to cycle despite the state of both the bike
and my posterior. Sounds of agony as I continued when, voilà,
not content with a flat back tyre I managed to get a puncture in the
front one as well. From then on I had to walk!
As
I was telling you yesterday, I finally arrived back in more than one
piece and hid the bike's remains in the darkest corner of the cellar.
Today I'm so stiff it hurts to move. Tienne, Hildigo and I were all
going for a ride this morning but would you believe, six bikes and
not a pump between them! At least there is a pump but no connector so
I'm stranded here again. Have you a spare connector at home you could
send me?
Sunday.
I'm
listening to "Easybeat". Would you believe I've actually
heard every one of the new discs being played on the BBC for the
first time. Good old Radio Luxembourg!
The other day I went for a walk on my own accompanied by one of the dogs here who's adopted me. He's a sweet little black and white mongrel but a bit mad. On returning to the school he suddenly saw the sheep in the enclosure. He rushed at them and they panicked, running in all directions. I yelled at the dog but in vain. Five of the sheep got past the dog and I was on their side of the fence. In their frenzy they all rushed towards me, horns down and bleating madly. You never saw Jill get through a gate so quickly in your life! Even then one of the sheep was half way through before I could shut it. From the safe side I reviewed the situation. One yapping dog mad with excitement and five frenzied sheep stuck by the gate. Something had to be done about it and quickly. I waited until this half crazy little dog was really distracting the sheeps' attention, gingerly opened the "corral" gate and slipped through, locking it behind me. I then advanced on the dog making heroic noises. Both the dog and the sheep gazed fascinated. I seized the dog by the scruff of the neck, tucked it under my arm and legged it for the gate. The sheep beat me to it. I picked myself up out if the mud, still clutching the mad dog, and finally got through the gate leaving the sheep three parts crazy on the other side. Putting the dog down, I heaved sigh of relief. Done it! Then, Voilà! There's a hole in the fence! I once again entered the arena to remove the mad dog when, what do you know, Gitan arrived to give assistance, to the dog, not me! I gave up. I mean, I couldn't very well fit a squirming, mad dog under one arm and a much larger Gitan under the other could I?
The other day I went for a walk on my own accompanied by one of the dogs here who's adopted me. He's a sweet little black and white mongrel but a bit mad. On returning to the school he suddenly saw the sheep in the enclosure. He rushed at them and they panicked, running in all directions. I yelled at the dog but in vain. Five of the sheep got past the dog and I was on their side of the fence. In their frenzy they all rushed towards me, horns down and bleating madly. You never saw Jill get through a gate so quickly in your life! Even then one of the sheep was half way through before I could shut it. From the safe side I reviewed the situation. One yapping dog mad with excitement and five frenzied sheep stuck by the gate. Something had to be done about it and quickly. I waited until this half crazy little dog was really distracting the sheeps' attention, gingerly opened the "corral" gate and slipped through, locking it behind me. I then advanced on the dog making heroic noises. Both the dog and the sheep gazed fascinated. I seized the dog by the scruff of the neck, tucked it under my arm and legged it for the gate. The sheep beat me to it. I picked myself up out if the mud, still clutching the mad dog, and finally got through the gate leaving the sheep three parts crazy on the other side. Putting the dog down, I heaved sigh of relief. Done it! Then, Voilà! There's a hole in the fence! I once again entered the arena to remove the mad dog when, what do you know, Gitan arrived to give assistance, to the dog, not me! I gave up. I mean, I couldn't very well fit a squirming, mad dog under one arm and a much larger Gitan under the other could I?
Fortunately
at this juncture my saviour appeared in the guise of a tractor driver
in his early nineties. With his crackly old voice and throwing lumps
of dung we managed eventually to scare off the two dogs and rescue
the frightened sheep. My hero!
Monday.
Things
are happening here so fast I just can't keep up with them to tell
you. I received the envelopes and the verb book from you this morning
Henri, for which I thank you. At least I presume they're from you but
I'm glad you were sensible and didn't expose yourself to the
dangerous possibility of acquiring writers cramp which can be very
nasty.
On
Saturday when I went cycling with the girl guides I arrived back at
the school to be confronted by the diminutive school caretaker. You
need a magnifying glass to see him and sideways even that is
insufficient! He was excitedly telling me it was his ninetieth
birthday. Well as you know, old men in England at that age are often
apt to forget what they were saying. Let me assure you, old men in
France are no different. Apart from that, I don't know if you've ever
tried to carry on a conversation in French when you don't speak the
language properly, with a little old Frenchman who you have to peer
at very hard the whole time in case he should disappear before your
eyes. The difficulty is increased when the person addressing you
forgets what he is going to say, wears a deaf aid with a dud battery
in it and not only mumbles but lisps and stutters as well.
After
dinner yesterday Tienne and Hildigo decided they wanted to paint a
picture and do some cooking. As I had no desire to do either and was
supposed to be visiting that lady and her niece but didn't have a
rideable bike I decided to make one. That is, I took all six bikes
and found one with a decent frame and a hard back tyre. I then found
one with a hard front tyre and swapped the wheels over. This wasn't
easy as I only had one spanner and a pair of pliers and the nuts had
corroded on. After an hour or so I'd swapped the wheels and changed
the brakes from a third bike onto the first. I then cleaned it and
had a roadworthy vehicle with two hard tyres. Off I set and arrived
at the lady's house three quarters of an hour late. Her niece was
there and she has been learning English for three years. She's
seventeen and has a penfriend in the Midlands.
We got on very well
and her name is also Danielle. We had tea and biscuits with her aunt
and then she took me to her house at the other end of the village.
There I was introduced to her mother whose first remark was that I
had a remarkably good accent which was odd as most English people had
very bad ones. Then her gran came in and told me I was beautiful.
(They later had to take the door off its hinges to get my head out!)
I then met her sister, dad, uncle and all her friends and relations
who all seem to be very nice people. She lives in a little cottage
that's really old and very French; the door opens on a lift latch, it
has a thatched roof, wooden chairs, and the fire is an oven if you
see what I mean.
We
then went for a walk and met loads more of her friends. Everyone
seemed to know who I was before I'd even been introduced. The whole
village had been expecting me and people kept coming out of houses to
say hello and to be introduced! Danielle seems very popular and I met
several of the village lads with motorbikes. Real blokes; I'd not
realised they actually had them here! It also appears that supply is
surplus to demand. Great! Still I don't really suppose the nuns would
let me go around with them.
Danielle also took me for a look at the village church which has a centre altar and two side ones. She told me the names for everything in French and pointed out a lovely statue of Jeanne d'Arc and the Fleurs de Lys on her gown. The building was very lovely and well worth seeing. We then went for another walk, returning to her aunt's house. She told me that her son was returning from the army at the end of the month and that he spoke English. She spent an hour showing me pictures of him and seems really proud of him.
Danielle also took me for a look at the village church which has a centre altar and two side ones. She told me the names for everything in French and pointed out a lovely statue of Jeanne d'Arc and the Fleurs de Lys on her gown. The building was very lovely and well worth seeing. We then went for another walk, returning to her aunt's house. She told me that her son was returning from the army at the end of the month and that he spoke English. She spent an hour showing me pictures of him and seems really proud of him.
Finally
I said au revoir to them all and will go and see Danielle again next
Saturday evening if the nuns will excuse me from taking the study
that night. As there's not generally a study that night anyway, I
expect I'll be able to go. Unfortunately Danielle doesn't get home
from work until 8:00pm weekdays and 5:30pm on Saturdays so I'll only
be able to see her at weekends. She's a very nice girl and, as you
can see, I've met all her friends as well so I'm not hard up for
friends now. Also, I can get to Mouchard on this boneshaker, for
having taken the good bits from all the other bikes I've now got one
that's quite reasonable. It's even got a three speed!
On
my way back from Liesle I met Sœur Martine with Tienne and Hildigo
on their way to the station. They had walked the four odd miles to
Liesle and their baggage was on Sœur Martine's bicycle. I went to
see them off at the station and together Sœur Martine and I rode
back in pitch darkness on our bikes, me having lights (scrounged from
another one), but Sœur Martine having none. On we went with Sœur
Martine singing jolly French songs beside me and complaining she was
too old to go fast. (I was frantically trying to keep up with her).
Then she got a puncture and we had to walk the last mile, arriving
back cold and hungry, at least I was as I'd not taken my coat when I
set out as it had been really hot and sunny. Don't send the
connection for the pump by the way, Sœur Martine has found one.
I
went into the empty school to get my tea and decided to have it in
the kitchen. I usually eat there during the holidays as it's the
warmest place. The school was quite deserted. Everyone had left, and
the nuns were all in the convent. As I went into the kitchen I found
the table already laid for me, with fresh fruit, eggs, a pot of tea,
a vase of flowers, cheeses, butter, French bread, masses of food in
fact! The nuns really do spoil me don't they?
I
had my tea and washed up and was about to go up to bed when in came
one of the sisters to say that if I liked she'd sleep in the school
with me for the night so that I wouldn't be on my own and scared. I
assured her I wasn't afraid. I didn't really want anyone else there
as I intended listening to Luxembourg until midnight. Eventually she
agreed there was nothing to be scared of and left me on my own.
Still, it shows how kind and thoughtful they are doesn't it?
The
coat you posted still hasn't arrived. I've asked Sœur Martine about
my money and she says they'll give it to me monthly. That means no
money until the end of November. Never mind.
Champagne-sur-Loue.
12 November 1962.
I've
just received your last letter and am worried to hear about Julie.
Are you sure she's okay? Julie love, what with your feet and your
nose, life really is difficult for you isn't it? Did you enjoy the
Emergency ward ten bit at the hospital and did you have Dr. Kildare
to plug up your nose? It's an awful shame you had to have the attack
during the night and spoil poor Henri's beauty sleep. Like he needs
it badly enough! You certainly don't do things by halves do you? Were
you joking about the ambulance being too small for Julie's feet Mum?
Despite their size it sounded a little exaggerated to me. I like
Henri's description of last weekend, "all night at the hospital
with the bleeding nose and all next day with the bleeding brakes."
I
suppose you couldn't yet have received my letter calling off the wool
idea but thanks ever-so for getting it. I'm really pleased but was
afraid of causing you too much expense. You'd better not send me any
more money now for what with the one you've just sent, the price of
the wool, the tights and the postage it must be working out more
expensive to have me away from home than to have me there.
Remember
the girl with the sick brother? I don't know how he is but she came
back to school a week late, spent a whole night sobbing like mad
because she had so much work to make up, the whole of the following
day worrying about her brother, went about without her coat and is
now in bed with a severe fever. She's still sobbing about her brother
and keeps going delirious. She is in the next room to me and I can
hear her all night long.
Champagne-sur-Loue,
Wednesday, 13 November 1962.
I'm
now well back into the usual routine, rising at an ungodly hour in
the morning. and dropping back into bed at night exhausted. I
honestly don't know how those poor kids manage to keep working all
those long hours. I usually go to bed about one and a half hours
before them and don't do much during the day but am always flaked
out. I eat like a … well, whatever eats a phenomenal amount, but I
think that's because of the cold weather and the fresh air.
Yesterday
Françoise and I cycled to Liesle in the afternoon and we passed a
field where a farmer was ploughing using two white oxen. I thought
that went out with the Egyptians! It was very interesting though and
Françoise says it's rare, even for this archaic region of France.
As
we had plenty of time we decided to return via Arc-et-Senans. Just as
we reached the river and still had four miles to go, it started to
bucket down with rain. We arrived back at the school soaking wet and
giggling madly. Françoise and I always have that effect on each
other. We fool around the whole time we're together, throwing
things, swearing at each other in our native tongue, fighting and
messing around. We get along fine really and cause each other
infinite amusement. Danielle usually joins in with us at lunch times,
but she's teaching most of the day so can't 'play' as we do. Even
when Françoise is working in the kitchen we manage to muck about a
good deal.
I'm taking the evening study at the moment and Sœur Martine has just come in to return my biology book that she borrowed so long ago. It looks well used to me. Still, I've got it back and that's the main thing.
I'm taking the evening study at the moment and Sœur Martine has just come in to return my biology book that she borrowed so long ago. It looks well used to me. Still, I've got it back and that's the main thing.
I
hope I'm not causing you too much expense but I've another request.
Scrap the knitting wool idea and could you please instead send me
ten shillings each week or every other week, or whenever you can
manage it, from now until Christmas so's I can get my Christmas
presents please? As you know, I've so many people to send cards to
and they'll cost me at least sixpence each even if I send them to you
to post and otherwise a shilling. I'll only need the money until
Christmas. If you can't afford it, it doesn't matter, I'll manage,
and thanks anyway. I really hate having to ask but as you know I've
not got much money and the convent aren't paying me until the end of
November. There are so many things I forgot to bring with me or have
come to need since I arrived. Honestly, you'd never believe just how
many things I could need, stockings, soap, soap powder, and hundreds
of other items such as shoe repairs, and chocolate. I've got a mania
for French chocolate and cannot stop eating it. My waist line is fast
developing into a waste line. That costs one new franc a bar and I
devour several bars a week. Also I need thing like stamps, writing
materials, and odds and ends like gloves and scarves. The rest of my
money seems to disappear on heaven knows what, which is surprising as
I don't go to the shops except when I go into Mouchard. However,
since I got mobilised with the bike I've been going to the towns
every day. The other day I went to Mouchard to post some letters and
that alone cost me five francs.
Do
you recall the girl who wanted me to spend half term with her? She's
not come back to school yet so I asked one of the nuns why and
apparently her brother, who is a soldier in Algeria, had appendicitis
and was rushed to Paris by plane. By the time he reached Paris the
appendix had burst and he's now very dangerously ill in hospital
there. The entire family have gone to Paris to be with him until they
know whether he will be all right or not. Wasn't it a blessing I
didn't go to stay with them? They'd have felt awful if they'd had to
be polite to me and get me back to school okay before going to Paris.
I do hope the boy's okay, they must all be so worried.
I've
been informed that next Saturday morning I'm going to Mouchard for a
lung x-ray and medical check over. This is apparently a very special
treat that I'm supposed to look forward to with great excitement. I'm
told it's for all the teachers. I hope I don't have to pay for it. It
will at least get me off taking a couple of study periods.
I've
also been told that tomorrow I can speak English to my heart's
content because the English speaking priest is arriving. Although
he's French he speaks English "beaucoup beaucoup" as the
nuns have informed me. I'll let you know of my dealings with him. How
much do you bet they try to make me go to confession? Not that I've
had much opportunity to need to go. I've been to Mass at least twice
a week since I've been here.
Champagne-sur
Loue, Friday 16 November 1962.
For
once I'm going to write a whole letter without asking for a thing.
I'm not going to pester for chewing gum, long coms, electric razors
or even stereophonic ear plugs!
Firstly, many thanks for the knitting wool which arrived yesterday. It'll go with practically everything I've got, including my hair rollers! I chuckled so much over your letter that Sœur Martine wanted to know what the matter was. On being informed that it was a letter from my sister, newly out of an asylum, she said it must run in the family as I was about to be committed to one if I didn't stop giggling in that inane way. The name Julia seemed to fascinate her and the rest of the day she wandered around muttering "cat, Julia, dog, Julia Simpson, rabbit, Miss Julia Simpson." When I told her I would be spending Christmas away from the convent she said she would make sure I came back by tying a string to me and playing it out. After Christmas, Whoosh! She'd haul me back in again. This was all accompanied by dozens of explanatory actions that had me rocking with laughter.
Firstly, many thanks for the knitting wool which arrived yesterday. It'll go with practically everything I've got, including my hair rollers! I chuckled so much over your letter that Sœur Martine wanted to know what the matter was. On being informed that it was a letter from my sister, newly out of an asylum, she said it must run in the family as I was about to be committed to one if I didn't stop giggling in that inane way. The name Julia seemed to fascinate her and the rest of the day she wandered around muttering "cat, Julia, dog, Julia Simpson, rabbit, Miss Julia Simpson." When I told her I would be spending Christmas away from the convent she said she would make sure I came back by tying a string to me and playing it out. After Christmas, Whoosh! She'd haul me back in again. This was all accompanied by dozens of explanatory actions that had me rocking with laughter.
The
nuns have today told me to keep the radio in my room as I'm the only
person who uses it and if they need it they'll come and find it. This
is to save me wading through wind, hail, sleet and snow to collect it
from the convent.
You remember me telling you about the girl with a bad fever? Well news came that her brother was out of danger and well on the road to recovery. She in turn got better and the other evening was jawing to me in my room when she came to say goodnight. The girls all roll up in ones and twos every night; really annoying but they won't go to sleep until they've gazed upon the eighth wonder of the world, i.e. me with my hair rollers in. She was telling me about her brother and assured me all was now well, that he was a soldier in Algeria, was twenty years old and would soon be well enough to return to the war. You can probably guess what resulted. Yesterday afternoon there was a telephone call to the school to say he had died at 3:30pm in the Paris hospital. He'd been certified as out of danger and it was a sudden change for the worse. The girl was taken home immediately and was all numb with shock. I saw her just after she'd heard and she didn't say a word and looked as if crying was the thought furthest from her mind. Isn't it terrible? Twenty, and dead from a burst appendix. All the dangers he'd had to face in Algeria and he has to die of a common little thing like appendicitis in a Paris hospital, and that after his parents had been sent home thinking him out of danger.
You remember me telling you about the girl with a bad fever? Well news came that her brother was out of danger and well on the road to recovery. She in turn got better and the other evening was jawing to me in my room when she came to say goodnight. The girls all roll up in ones and twos every night; really annoying but they won't go to sleep until they've gazed upon the eighth wonder of the world, i.e. me with my hair rollers in. She was telling me about her brother and assured me all was now well, that he was a soldier in Algeria, was twenty years old and would soon be well enough to return to the war. You can probably guess what resulted. Yesterday afternoon there was a telephone call to the school to say he had died at 3:30pm in the Paris hospital. He'd been certified as out of danger and it was a sudden change for the worse. The girl was taken home immediately and was all numb with shock. I saw her just after she'd heard and she didn't say a word and looked as if crying was the thought furthest from her mind. Isn't it terrible? Twenty, and dead from a burst appendix. All the dangers he'd had to face in Algeria and he has to die of a common little thing like appendicitis in a Paris hospital, and that after his parents had been sent home thinking him out of danger.
Enough
of such a sobering subject. It's started snowing but Mère Pierre
says it's warm here compared to higher in the mountains where the
snow is very deep. She says that when it really comes she'll take me
into Switzerland to see real mountains, like in all the photographs,
covered in snow and looking like a soap advert. I'm a living iceberg
here, what would I be like in Switzerland?
You
mentioned you were always paying excess postage on my letters. Is
this really true? If you do have to pay extra, how much and I'll make
it up on the stamps at this end. You also say I don't tell you
anything. What can you mean? I write enough, heaven knows, and
considering nothing worth mentioning ever happens I reckon I do
pretty well.
I've
got to head off for the evening meal now so that I'll have time to
get my elbows comfortable on the table and bang my spoon up and down.
I'll continue tomorrow or Monday. Weather permitting, I'm going to
see Danielle on Sunday so will tell you all about that.
Monday
morning.
I'm
taking the study again. It's 10:00am. and freezing cold with snow
everywhere. The trees are covered and all the leaves have completely
gone. From my bedroom window I can usually see the neighbouring
village of Buffard nestling in a hollow on the mountainside forming
the other side of the valley. Now however it's disappeared without
trace. I can gaze for ages at the hillside and be unable to see it.
It just shows what an effective camouflage snow is.
Yesterday
all the girls stayed in the warm and dry at the school, busy making
paper hats for the feast of St. Catherine next Sunday. Apparently in
France on that day everyone has parties and all the girls wear funny
hats. They really are funny too. They're all really good but the one
I liked best was made like a house with a thatched roof with a tiny
girl in the doorway. Another equally amusing one was of a duck in a
saucepan with the head peeping out from under the lid. All the hats
were made in bright coloured paper and were really great for a party.
I'd like to make one too and join in but I can't think of anything
very original and anyway I don't think Danielle or Françoise are
going, so I can't really, can I?
Leaving
the girls, I braved the hurricanes and deluges and cycled off in
pouring rain for a nice ride beside the snow-capped mountains to
Liesle to see Danielle. I pedalled along a cart track liberally
supplied with deep holes filled with muddy, icy water that kept
splashing all over me every time I passed through one. I was wearing
my white plastic boots, plastic mac, a headscarf covered by a rain
hat, gloves with holes, no make up, brown tights splattered with mud
and was singing at the top of my voice as I rattled along on a cranky
old bike. The rain meanwhile continued to deluge down. I no longer
felt cold however; I'd lost all sense of feeling! Suddenly there hove
into view a young man on a motorbike which he contrived to whizz
through a muddy puddle soaking me all over. He brought the offending
vehicle to a halt and greeted me with a nice flow of "Bonjour
Chérie-ing" and some other French which I didn't understand. At
that moment the ludicrousness of the situation occurred to me and I
just yelled "Wotcher me ole fruit!" and cycled on leaving
him gaping open mouthed and wondering about this strange goddess that
spoke with an alien tongue. I continued on my way, giggling
helplessly. To imagine that this time last year Pam and I were
jazzing around the coffee bars all beatnik like, wearing sunglasses
and jiving to jukeboxes! The contrast was so extreme I couldn't stop
laughing. It was just unfortunate that I should still be laughing
uproariously when two more young men went past on motorbikes. They
were the only three people I saw out all day. They called something
to me I couldn't understand, so I continued resolutely on my way,
leaving them, like their fellow traveller, somewhat glassy-eyed and
open mouthed.
Then
it actually stopped raining! After two days it finally stopped.
Admittedly it then turned into a hailstorm but at least it was a
change. Have you ever been out on a bleak mountainside with icicles
hanging from all over you with a cranky old bicycle and no shelter
with enormous hailstones beating you to a pulp? Take the advice of
one who has and avoid it if you can. It's not the nicest way of
passing a Sunday afternoon.
Eventually, much battered and bedraggled, I arrived at Danielle’s aunt's house. No Danielle. Her uncle set off up the village to fetch her while her aunt made me hot coffee and fed me with biscuits and pears after sitting me next to their sort of Rayburn to thaw out. Still no Danielle. Nobody knew where she was so her uncle returned to thaw out as well and I spent three hours with them chatting about all sorts of things, playing with their cat and hearing about their twenty-seven year old son who'd had an accident about eight months ago and was now deaf and dumb. He's also lost the sight in one eye and is a bit simple in the head. He is bedridden and lives upstairs. Then they told me about their twenty-one year old son they're so proud of. He's returning the week after next from the Algerian wars. They keep saying I'll have to meet him. I wonder why! They showed me dozens more photos of him and they're really so proud. They're ever such a nice couple and it was well worth going just to see them. I had a really enjoyable afternoon and am going again next Sunday to see them and Danielle.
Eventually, much battered and bedraggled, I arrived at Danielle’s aunt's house. No Danielle. Her uncle set off up the village to fetch her while her aunt made me hot coffee and fed me with biscuits and pears after sitting me next to their sort of Rayburn to thaw out. Still no Danielle. Nobody knew where she was so her uncle returned to thaw out as well and I spent three hours with them chatting about all sorts of things, playing with their cat and hearing about their twenty-seven year old son who'd had an accident about eight months ago and was now deaf and dumb. He's also lost the sight in one eye and is a bit simple in the head. He is bedridden and lives upstairs. Then they told me about their twenty-one year old son they're so proud of. He's returning the week after next from the Algerian wars. They keep saying I'll have to meet him. I wonder why! They showed me dozens more photos of him and they're really so proud. They're ever such a nice couple and it was well worth going just to see them. I had a really enjoyable afternoon and am going again next Sunday to see them and Danielle.
I
had a pleasant ride back as it was no longer raining or hailing,
merely snowing gently all over me.
On
returning to the school I took the radio and some food and evacuated
to my bedroom to hug the hot water radiator and thaw out. Almost
immediately a horrid little kid who also wants me to spend Christmas
with her appeared. "Bonjour Mees Jill" she cried and
promptly plonked herself down on my bed and proceeded to examine the
contents of my handbag without so much as asking. She's sixteen and a
half and honestly, she'd never seen eyebrow pencils, eyeliner,
mascara or eye shadow! Everything was examined with "Oohs"
and "Aahs". Then she found the amber necklace Gran gave me
and I literally had to force her to give it back. Everything she saw
she kept wanting to keep and it was really difficult not to be rude
to her. She kept asking for photos of me and then said she wanted one
of my lipsticks as a souvenir of me. Well really! I assured her all
my lipsticks I needed, that I had no photos of myself or indeed
anything that she could have as a souvenir. Eventually I got rid of
her but later when I went to "renovate my face" I
discovered one of my lipsticks missing. I was really furious and
tried to tell myself it had probably simply fallen on the floor
somewhere and would turn up when I swept my room out in the morning.
Then when I went down to tea I saw that wretched Janine had pale pink
lipstick smeared around her face, vaguely in the area of her mouth.
Well as she wears lace-up shoes, ankle socks, glasses, short skirts,
a plate on her teeth and no make-up whatsoever, it rather had me
wondering. What do you think, gentlemen of the jury? Guilty or not
guilty?
Thursday
22 [November].
I'm
so sorry not to have posted this to you before. Each day I think I'll
go to Liesle and post it but the snow falls again and the road is
impassable by bike. Then I think I'll ask Mère Pierre to post it but
before I can do so along comes another letter to reply to.
Thanks
ever so for your last letter and the pound I received yesterday Mum.
I'm really going to enjoy myself tomorrow as Sœur Martine is taking
me to Besançon to get the money changed and then we're going on up
into the mountains, very high where the snow is really deep and there
are sheer drops down the face of the mountains from the roadside. The
real mountains! We'll be going within a kilometre of Switzerland and
you never know, we might even go across the border. I'm really hoping
so. Sœur Martine has told me to wear trousers and as many warm
things as possible so I suppose I'll wear my tights, slacks, white
boots, a couple of jumpers and your duffle coat. I really must try
and buy some fur-lined leather gloves I've seen in Besançon. They
cost thirty shillings but are well worth it, so you'll know what your
pound went towards.
It's
not definite that we're going tomorrow, Only if Sœur Martine has to
go to the other convent by car. If she goes by train apparently it's
a straight route through tunnels and I wouldn't see much but by car
it takes longer and I'll see a lot of the scenery.
Sœur
Martine has been talking to me about the film "El Cid" and
as I never saw it in England she says that it's now showing in
Besançon and she'll arrange for me to go and see it there. The
soundtrack has been changed into French so I hope I'll be able to
follow it.
Your
letter worries me about Julie. Don't be ill again please, and don't
get another nose bleed. The thought of my poor little sister's feet
becoming undernourished because she's off her food scares me stiff!
Champagne-sur-Loue,
26 November 1962.
Well
here I am with a new writing pad and a pen full of ink. Fortunately
for you time limits me or there's no knowing how much excess postage
you'd have to pay. Did you have to pay on the last one? I would have
put an extra stamp on as it seemed rather heavy but I didn't have any
left. I just used up everything I had left in the book. The books
cost ten shillings each and that was my fifth book since being here.
I've quite lost count of the number of writing pads I've used.
I'm
taking yet another study. It's an uproar here as they're still all
rolling in late. Hang on while I try to shut them up.
Well
its worked on 75% of them but I'll have to try again on the rest.
They always are the awkward ones.
At
lunch time today one of the nuns rushed excitedly up to ask me if I'd
care to go to Lyon with her for three days, from December 8th until
11th. (You know, Lyon, the big town at the junction of the Rhône and
the Saône in the Rhône/Saône corridor above Marseilles on the
Mediterranean coast. Third largest town in France.) Naturally I
jumped at the opportunity. So there I'll be, down towards the
Mediterranean with all the olive groves and grape vines. Not that
there'll be any olives or grapes now. I'd rather go in the height of
summer but beggars can't be choosers.
I'm
ever so excited about that, and as far as I can see time will simply
fly by from now until Christmas. What with going to Lyon for three
days, (Not the snack bar [Joe Lyons] by the way. Half wish it was,
all the cream buns you know!) then returning on the 11th and going to
spend Christmas with Marie-Thérèse on the 18th until January 5th
life will be really busy. In addition Sœur Martine has promised to
take me into Switzerland when the snow starts to clear and the routes
are better. That should be about February or March.
On
Friday I went with Sœur Martine to the other school. We left here
about 6.:30am. in pitch darkness with the snow bucketing down. We had
to dig the Deux Chevaux out from beneath it and Sœur Martine told me
that when I next wrote I was to tell Henri that if he did decide to
buy a Deux Chevaux to also buy a large brush at the same time to
remove the snow from it. Then came the process of starting the thing!
I sat there while Sœur Martine tugged resolutely on the starter
uttering language that was not, so she informed me, the most
appropriate for a nun to use while attempting to start a reluctant
vehicle in the early light of a winter's morning. I assured her it
was okay, I was used to it and that I bet she couldn't beat my dad,
no matter what language she chose to express herself in. We
eventually got mobile, with Sœur Martine rigged up in coloured
glasses for night-time driving and for when the sun is on the snow.
For
the first hour we felt our way along, the windscreen wipers icing up
with the mounting snow that kept settling on them and one or other of
us hopping out every ten minutes to brush it away and de-ice the
wipers. Then, what with us breathing and the heater, the only point
for which the designer of the Deux Chevaux deserves unmitigated
praise, the ice eventually thawed from the windscreen and we could
see where we were going. When they told me the snow was deep in the
mountains I thought they were exaggerating, but, honestly, by the
roadside it was piled up a yard deep. Everywhere was really white and
the sapins looked beautiful, frostbitten and weighed down with the
snow and ice just as in theses
photos.
By
the way, I know the photos are not very good but Sœur Martine gave
them to me because she was sorry for me not having a camera and said
Henri was horrible not to lend me his. She said I ought to have
swiped it when he wasn't looking. Both the photos were taken within a
few kilometers of here near Salins-les-Bains.
Postcards
from Sœur Martine
While
we were at the school and Sœur Martine was giving a lesson in
chemistry to all sixty of the pupils there, I went for a walk in the
snow which was still falling. The nuns at the convent assured me that
my boots were useless and that I'd have to borrow a pair from one of
them. Then came the problem. Goodness knows how Julie would have
managed for they were fascinated at the enormous size of my feet and
had a hell of a job to find a pair big enough for me! Eventually they
squashed my feet into the biggest pair of boots going which must have
been all of a size three. They were completely square and about six
inches too wide and six inches too short. They also made me wear a
pair of the nuns long white socks because they said the boots would
hurt me without them. Admittedly the socks were nice and warm but I
felt pretty silly. The boots really made school lace-ups seem like
party shoes and as for the socks, well you can imagine what they were
like if they belonged to a nun! The boots, I was informed, were very
hard, something they needn't have bothered to tell me as I was
wearing them, but they were waterproof. Then they let me loose on the
surrounding villagers after first trying to make me borrow one of
their heavy black cloaks because they insisted my duffle coat wasn't
warm enough! I was wearing enough clothing to keep an army warm and
despite the snow was feeling quite hot. I assured them of this and
they doubtfully let me go, trying as I left, to make me wear one of
their wimples on my head to keep me dry. I waved my scarf at them
crying "c'est très
hot, c'est waterproof" and clomped off.
Stomping along a nice quiet lane I heard barking and two massive Alsatian dogs came charging at me from out of a wood. Well I suppose they were Alsatians because if they'd been wolves I wouldn't be here now telling you all these exaggerated tales, would I?
Stomping along a nice quiet lane I heard barking and two massive Alsatian dogs came charging at me from out of a wood. Well I suppose they were Alsatians because if they'd been wolves I wouldn't be here now telling you all these exaggerated tales, would I?
All
was going fine until I had passed the last house in the village when
I came upon a part of the road that no traffic had passed over. This
was not immediately apparent but soon became so, namely when I found
myself up to my waist in horrible wet snow. I'd gaily stepped onto
what I thought was another piece of road and it wasn't there. Down I
went. It's quite a nasty experience and you start to wonder when
you're going to hit the bottom. It must be like jumping from a diving
board and discovering someone's drained the water out of the bath.
This was even worse because it was somewhat chilly too! I extracted
myself and with a piece of stick spent the next half hour or so
writing rude English words in the snow. Great fun for a juvenile
mentality like mine.
I
then decided I must have been gone a couple of hours so started out
on the return journey which was downhill so naturally I slithered
most of the way. I [imagined making] a snowball which I rolled down
the hillside,
which was slightly more than an angle of eighty degrees, with me
sliding after it. The snow [would stick] to it and it [would get]
bigger and bigger, until, by the time we reached the village, it
[would be] so big that it rumbled as it rolled and I [...] the
villagers [would] come out of their homes and look up thinking it was
an avalanche. Seeing the gigantic snowball about to descend upon then
they [would utter] terrified screams and evacuate at the double,
running for cover as the snowball finally hit the village, scattering
the houses like ninepins and leaving bit of broken furniture and
squashed Deux Chevaux littering the countryside.
Leaving [thoughts of] my snowball [...] I turned into the gateway of the school [...] only to find Sœur Martine hopping up and down with anxiety because I was five minutes late and she was afraid I was lying somewhere run over by a Deux Chevaux. I assured her that all attempts at assassination had been unsuccessful but that didn't stop her. I received a half hour lecture that I wasn't to accept lifts from strange men and I sat looking dead serious and telling her I'd been taught that when I was four. She said it applied just as much now and I refrained from asking her why just in case she told me. I just nodded obediently and she was happy. With difficulty I then removed the boots and socks from my now pulped feet and returned them to the nun saying I hoped she didn't need the socks today as they were rather soggy from when I fell in the snow drift.
Leaving [thoughts of] my snowball [...] I turned into the gateway of the school [...] only to find Sœur Martine hopping up and down with anxiety because I was five minutes late and she was afraid I was lying somewhere run over by a Deux Chevaux. I assured her that all attempts at assassination had been unsuccessful but that didn't stop her. I received a half hour lecture that I wasn't to accept lifts from strange men and I sat looking dead serious and telling her I'd been taught that when I was four. She said it applied just as much now and I refrained from asking her why just in case she told me. I just nodded obediently and she was happy. With difficulty I then removed the boots and socks from my now pulped feet and returned them to the nun saying I hoped she didn't need the socks today as they were rather soggy from when I fell in the snow drift.
Then
I had to dine with the nuns. Seven nuns in their best robes with
serviettes daintily tucked into the necks of their habits and Jill in
sloppy jumper and slacks! They all spoke a little English and one
spoke quite well so we got on okay. They were fascinated that I
didn't want any wine and when I refused the coffee they gaped! After
the meal one of them said she liked sugar cubes dipped in wine, did
I? When I said I didn't know she trotted off and returned with a
bottle of cognac which she poured over a sugar cube and with
fascination they all watched me eat it. Then Sœur Martine said my
nose had gone red and that I was drunk.
After
lunch I played with the record player and one of the pupils showed me
a film about the mountains in winter. Then we started homewards. I
can't describe the scenery because it was dark but ice was everywhere
and we had to drive at little more than walking pace in the centre of
the road and stop whenever we met any approaching traffic. It took
four hours to get back, slithering most of the way on the ice that
had been compacted on the road by passing traffic. Sœur Martine kept
up a constant chatter as to what she thought of the chap in the
approaching car because he didn't dip his lights and in fact almost
rivalled Henri for moaning about the bad route, the fog, the smoke
from the exhaust of the car in front, and what a bloody daft thing
for that bloody driver to do, turning out onto the road like that,
and did I see that, and how daft could some people get, and so on. We
went within 25 kilometers of Geneva and I'd have loved to have seen
it. Still I expect I will before I come home.
Tuesday,
27 (November).
I
know it's early to ask yet but as I won't be here after December 18th
would it be possible, if you are intending to give me any money for
Christmas, to send it to arrive before I go away please? If you can't
manage it don't worry but a quid or so would come in jolly handy over
the holiday and I'll also have the money the Convent gives me. Or
what's left of it as I expect most of that will go paying the train
fare to Lyon. I might even then be able to afford a pair of dreamy
fur boots I saw in Besançon or even a pair of skis because I'm going
to have ample opportunity to use them although I haven't a clue how
much they'd cost.
Sœur
Jeanne-Cathérine,
who's taking me to Lyons, tells me the reason for our visit is to see
her parents but has promised to take me to see her sister-in-law who
teaches English and speaks it fluently while we're there.
All
the girls and the sisters here keep giving me piles of used French
stamps. I've sent them to all the people I can think of who collect
them and am now beginning to get quite overrun but don't like to
disappoint anyone by saying I've got enough, so if you know of anyone
who wants lots of French stamps please let me know.
Last
Sunday they had a party for the feast of St. Cathérine
which is always celebrated throughout France. The girls made dozens
of really crazy hats. Beside each place at table was menu all written
in French and looking very official. Each one had a number. In the
next room were the hats also with a number and you had the one
corresponding to the number on your individual menu. I had one of a
house but everyone said I should have had the boat one and then I
could have popped home in it! I didn't really want to wear any
because you can imagine what a cardboard house perched on my head did
for my carefully arranged back-combing can't you?
We
had a seven course meal that lasted over two hours but most of it was
spent fooling around. Françoise and I were the only ones there in
"authority" and I was telling Françoise she should be more
serious and stop giggling and she assured me she was always serious
and I choked on the soup and all the pupils howled with laughter and
altogether it was great fun. Afterwards they all played silly games
and then had dancing for three hours. The only dance they ever seem
to do in France is La Marche which I've never seen before but is dead
simple. I had to dance with them all. Did I feel a nit dancing with
only girls! The nuns wouldn't dream of inviting boys here and if they
did the boys wouldn't come if they had any sense, judging by some of
the girls here. Even if they did come they'd probably be all of
twelve years old!
Eventually
it ended up with me trying to teach the girls how to do the
Charleston. Then I taught Françoise to count to twenty in English
and to do the twist and she taught me the French words to "Ya Ya
Twist". I sat singing that to practice my French while she
twisted away shouting "twist two, three, four."
At
the moment I'm sitting on my bed waiting for the lesson they give on
the radio every Tuesday on how to do the Madison. I think I can just
about do the "Madison Basic" but being stuck out here I've
never actually seen it done so don't really know if I've mastered it
or not. I've got to stay in my room because I've got my hair in
rollers as I do most Tuesday mornings, being the only morning I don't
have to take a study or give a lesson and by the afternoons the
water's gone cold. There's a chap going round the bedrooms examining
the pipes. I can hear him. I do hope he doesn't need to come in here
because if he does he's in for a shock what with me doing the Madison
with my hair in pink rollers!
I've
been told the girls have all got three days holiday starting Friday
to Monday so 'll be all on my own again with no work to do.
Evening
study period.
We
had a really crazy hors d'oeuvre today. Boats about three inches long
made from short-crust pastry and filled with boiled rice mixed with
mayonnaise and garnished with parsley. They were lovely. You make
some Mum, they must be dead easy.
This
evening I went to wash my boots after a soggy walk on the
mountainside and to my amazement the water was warm! Not hot but it
was definitely warm and not full of blobs of ice as it usually is.
It's quite cheering. Maybe they're turning it on for the winter. Hope
it's still warm when I wash tonight.
If
it wasn't for the fact that I'm afraid the attic is full of mice and
the light up there has broken and I can't remember which part of the
attic I put it in, I'd go up and collect my washing but I think it
had best wait until tomorrow now.
I've
been consoling myself all day on how I'm going to live it up when
everyone's gone home. Record player and radio blaring, even if it is
celestial music and in French, hot chocolate, cooking. I've
discovered a cupboard full of slabs of smashing, dark chocolate, a
bin full of French bread and a fridge full of cheese and fruit. I
suppose though I'll have to have my meals in the convent with the
nuns.
My
dreams were rudely shattered just now when I realised that as the
oven here is a solid fuel Rayburn type. Françoise will put out the
fires for the holidays so I won't be able to have any hot water or
drinking chocolate. Oh dear.
I've
just measured myself with a tape measure I found here and think I
must have put on weight. My waist is 60 and my hips 101. Even you've
never had to fit someone that size up for a dress have you Mum? And
Danielle reckons I'm slim!
What's
this I hear about the possibility of England going to war in a few
days? Nobody tells me anything and I find it difficult to understand
much in the French newspapers and the ones they have here have never
got much in them anyway. So please tell me all, why, and with whom.
I've
received your letter about sending me my school raincoat and am all
but going up in flames. [...]
as soon as it arrives I'll hide it in the darkest, dampest and
muckiest corner of the attic where it belongs.
You
wouldn't think of sending me something useful like my Eden Kane scrap
book or my records would you? I bet you paid pounds on the postage
too. End of lecture but it really was a very nasty shock for me to
receive!
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