5.2.70
Dear Mum, what fabulous news about Monica [Hannagan]! But do you know when you said
in your previous letter that she was amongst the finalists I knew she would get the prize, and I wasn’t
in the least bit surprised when your next letter came! The closest I’ll ever
get to second sight perhaps! Give her my congratulations and love will you,
please; she really is a marvel. What a terrible photo of everybody, though ˗ Les
Simpson looking as though his hair was flying away in great tufts, and the
Festival Queen looking pleased, but more beautiful than pleased...! And Monica’s
by no means middle-aged, anyway; she’s the one relation whose age I can
positively remember: she’ll always be ten years older than me, to the month! [I'm not sure which of the several prizes Monica won over the years this was; she went in for competitions where you had to answer general knowledge questions.]
If you see Des Stokes, by the way, thank him for his letter,
and tell him that the reason for the long delay on the last article is that I temporarily
lost the note I had of what he wanted, and since I’ve now found two or three
more shops where there is a likelihood of my finding what he wants I’ll give it
another try.
I started piano lessons again on Monday last ˗ eeergh! it
was like going back to school again. But Doris is very nice and even suggested
that if I wasn’t tied up to staying in Stoke Newington there was a vacancy in
the house next door to her. However in spite of the extra amount it costs for
fares I don’t really wish to leave this flat: the six of us (or seven
generally) get on so well (with occasional mix-ups) that I don’t fancy going to
live on my own, albeit above a landlady. Doris even gave me a guinea off the
fees as well, and also said she has a whole lot of good secondhand music that
might be of use to me.
We discussed the sort of exams I should probably try for and
I’m inclined to think that it’s little use merely going for another performer’s
exam: I only learn pretty much what I already know. I think it would be better
to go for a teacher’s exam even though it means a lot of studying over at least
the next full year, because then, finally, I might have something to fall back on that I could do
competently, rather than having to go for crumming (yes, crumming, it’s a newly invented word) office jobs where I’ll barely
be existing on the sort of money they’ll give me. The thing is that most of the
better singers at the Centre last year had at least been through something like the
Royal College, while the reps had been through Varsity, and somewhere along the
line if I’m to be even partly as competent as they are at their work (though it
seems to me I did have certain advantages over one or two of last year’s, and
this year’s lot as well) I must have a wider general knowledge of music behind
me. I keep feeling myself to be the talented amateur in a professional world as
I am at the moment. I always think that I ought to be a ‘qualified’, so to
speak, professional, with a more secure foundation than that on which I’m based
just now. And it’s no use going on merely on my own, I can see. Even though the
time wasn’t wasted: I learnt quite some theory in the time, but I must have someone driving me, because I’m
basically so lazy!! I’m never really prepared to work unless I have to ˗ I have
a little bit of my brain that says things will always fall into my lap. [Up to this point they had, to an extent, especially
in New Zealand.] I know this just isn’t so. One eventually becomes a
vegetable under those conditions.
 |
| National Children's Home, in Harpenden. The buildings were still the same when I worked there many years after this photo was taken. |
Reg was quite pleased when I told him ˗ I think I’d been
worrying him a bit, though he’d never actually say so. I know I don’t have to
explain myself to you to any extent, but I like to let you have as full a
picture of what I’m (now) trying to achieve. And anyway learning is never a
waste of time ˗ even if you turned round and never used it again (like some of
the things you learn at school) the brain expansion achieved is of great use! This
teacher’s exam will involve learning not only theory and practical points but
also teaching ones, and who knows ˗ they will no doubt come in handy if I can
ever working satisfactorily as a rep. It doesn’t bother me at the moment if do
or don’t, but I think my idea of a short ago of giving up music entirely and
devoting myself to Good Works (in some National Children’s Home in mind) is not very practical. [Reg was involved with NCH, and after he
retired, he worked for them in an accounting capacity. Plainly this idea didn’t go away completely: I eventually wound up
working at NCH a couple of years later: still under the impression that somehow I wasn’t
doing enough for other people.] I think existing extra-musically
would quite possibly drive me mad! [That
is, without doing music at all.] Anyway, I’ll let you know what progress we
make.
shape or form: I think I had something
the
About my other decision of last week - writing to the CIB: I finally sent my
questionnaire off on Sunday night. I had been going to wait a while, but
finally didn’t see any point. The biggest problem (apart from trying to
describe yourself to any extent, which was terrifying because you feel all the
time that you may be giving the wrong impression) was to supply a photograph of
myself. So I finally went and took four of myself (for 3/-!) in one of the
booths that develop them and everything on the spot within minutes. They were
four rather terrible photos, so I sent the least bad, which isn’t at all what I think I look like, but obviously is
since we’re led to believe the camera doesn’t lie! I’ve had an acknowledgement
(receipt) this morning, and now wait (still), with a deep terror way down
inside and tremendous good humour on the outside, for some results. The Good
Lord has never seen so much of me before! I’ve been in and out of any church
that comes by, more asking that he just keep a watchful eye on things rather
than necessarily make everything turn out exactly right without problems! But,
as the CIB suggests, it’s often the only way to meet R.C’s in a place like
London. The people at the Parish Church are not especially friendly ˗ I don’t help either, but they seem to be
rather middle-aged!!
About the Time
magazines ˗ there really isn’t any
point in keeping them, is there? Wouldn’t they be of more use somewhere, where
they’ve being read?? Leave it up to you, Love Mike (heh, heh!) [I'd subscribed to Time magazine for some years, so there was a stack of them - mostly unread - in my bedroom wardrobe at home.]
P.S. I’ve only had one lot of books ˗ the other’s must have
been held up somewhere.
