26.8.69
Dear Mum, just got a letter from you and am very pleased to
hear that all your insides are sorting themselves out. What a nuisance that
you’ve got to go back in again; didn’t you tell them that you weren’t going to
be treated like this? It’s not every day they get somebody with double kidneys
or whatever the particular speciality you have is! (Plus being an unusually
blooded person!) [My mother had a rather
unusual blood type.]
I went to Mass on Friday at midday at St
Pat's in Soho Square. Have I ever told you about that church? I keep
finishing every letter and realising that I haven’t said what I intend. And yet
at the same time I have the funny suspicion that I have mentioned it, and the
church near Leicester
Square ˗ the French one. Would you let me know if I have or haven’t as the
case may be? Anyway, today I was in town again (see why below) and popped into
the French church ˗ I think it’s called Our Lady of Lourdes or something like
that. [Notre Dame de France,in fact, ie,
Our Lady of France.] And the priest was just in the middle of the
Offertory, so I thought I’d stay, you see. I couldn’t make out a minute or two
later why no one was standing up for the bit before the Sanctus. I didn’t stand
alone (being unlike my wealthy uncle John ˗ they must have been through more
cars than clothes! That’s transgressing somewhat.) [No idea what this is about, nor who this particular uncle could have
been.] and then suddenly realised that the bit he was saying was the end of
the Mass! And here was I calculating if I would be able to go to Communion etc!
I stayed on a bit later trying to get what I should do about
getting a job sorted out in my mind. Whether I should go back to the agency
near Leicester Square (again) where they employ people for cinemas and such, or
whether I should try another place that would probably give me an office job.
(I’ve given up trying to get one from the paper, though there have been a few
possibles, and the job that Reg suggested of working for the Post Office as a
night telephonist is proving to be more trouble than its worth. They just don’t
seem to want anyone even though they advertise continually, and when I saw the
wages that they offer part-timers I can’t understand how they keep staff. Anyway
my name’s down on the list. I thought that it would be a possibility but it’s
taking so long to get anything out of them that I thought I’d be better to try
something else out.)
There’s no doubt the Good Lord is a fast worker. I only need
tell him I’m depressed while walking along the street because there are so many
unfamiliar faces, and somebody will smile at me, or talk, or give me something
to smile about. (I really must get a new ribbon for the typewriter.) Anyway I headed
for this office agency, and then started thinking about perhaps it wouldn’t be
so bad to try as a trainee projectionist as was suggested the other day. But it’s
a full-time job ˗ however I thought the hours might have suited, so after
sitting down with a sandwich and a cup of coffee, and thinking about it, I decided
to go back to this cinema employment place. The lady then told me that I was
wrong about the hours they work and I realised that they would be of no use at
all. I told her again that I wanted the day-time free if poss, and she pipes up
with a job as cashier (night one) from 5˗11, five nights a week and alternate
Sundays (ye gods!). but the pay is £14 basic! Plus two guineas extra for the
Sunday. What could be better? So I went round to this cinema to see about it,
and though the actual manager wasn’t there, the relief manager seemed to think I
would be quite satisfactory, so I’m to go back on Thursday and make sure. Isn’t
that fantastic?
Now I come to the distaff side of the picture ˗ if that’s the
expression I want. The cinema is in Soho (!) so consequently it shows mainly
foreign X films, or home-made ones ˗ which means that to show them it’s got to
be licensed as a club apparently, and the outfit as a whole may be a bit
sleazy. When I say that I don’t mean the actual place as far as working goes,
it’s just the thought behind it all that’s a little seedy. However it seems to
me that it’s not likely to involve me personally in anything distasteful ˗ if
it does we’ll just have to start looking for something else! Anyway it all
seems to be convenient otherwise so I guess it was pretty well intended, so I think
it should be all right. We’ll soon know if we get the job, won’t we? [Looking back on this I’m not sure if it was
sheer naivety on my part, or whether I was trying to justify the possibility of
this job to my mother. The cinema was a ‘club’ because it showed blue movies,
as I later discovered, and should have realised early on. However, I spent the
majority of my time in a caged-in box ˗ locked in to prevent people trying to
get at the cash ˗ and when I wasn’t serving customers, which was often, I read
lots of books, including, as I recall, a biography of Berlioz.I can laugh at it
now, and talk about it freely, but for a long time I felt ashamed, afterwards,
at having decided to take the job.]
My foot hurts when I walk without shoes on, but I can almost
run again so no doubt it is improving.
Everyone’s going to the Little Sisters!,
Love Mike. [The Little Sisters is a rest
home for the elderly, and sick. I think this probably refers to two of my great-aunts
going to live there.]
