Friday, December 14, 2012
30.9.68 - Travels and Travails
30.9.68
Dear Mum, how are the
pair of you thriving? I had a ridiculous day yesterday, Sunday, but quite
interesting for all that. In the morning I had decided to go to Mass at
the Convent which is only a short distance from Newman Rd. This was the
first time I’d gone there because the first Sunday I went way up to the next
parish and the last two have been spent in Wood Green. I arrived to find
the place singularly quiet for a Catholic Church, and Mass just finished.
And not another! However there was a priest there and we had a wee chat
and he gave me a timetable on the newsletter, and said I could go to Mass at 12
at the main parish church down in the Barking Road. So I went home again
and had breakfast, and then at 11.45 set off, thinking that this would give me
plenty of time. It turned out to be a longer walk than I anticipated but
I made it with a second to spare. On the way home it rained, and for once
I didn’t have an umbrella. So I got a bit wet, but it was one of those
days when it suddenly pours out of a blue sky.
I did some German – incidentally, the 3rd Programme is starting a German lesson
series on Monday, so I think I’ll get their little booklet and listen to that
in conjunction with the OC’s classes. (I'm still not very enthused over
the Italian lessons – which makes it harder; at least Frau Radinger has a
marvellous sense of humour and we really have a good time learning, but in the
other class we waste more time than anything.)
After this I had planned to go to see a Laurel and Hardy Quartet of
films at the NFT. It poured as I was setting out for Plaistow
station. Anyway, saw the films, which were very good, without getting very
wet on the way, and then hopped on the usual train to come back. The
gremlins were at work again. We got as far as Mansion House and the train
was stopped and everyone told to change. So an entire train-load of
people walked up over to the next platform, and waited...and waited. A
guard told a group of people near me that someone had jumped under a train at
Aldgate East which was between there and Plaistow. But at another station
they reckoned that something had collapsed on the line. Anyway, the next
train was going to Tower Hill, a little further on my way, so I got on
that. And would have got a Circle Line to take me on a detour, avoiding
the station where the trouble was. However the wait at Tower Hill was
even longer. On the trip to there I picked up a wee friend, a boy of
about 10 or 11, who was going North-East. He and I had a discussion going
to TH as to what was the best route for him to take, though I wasn’t a lot of
help. At TH, I picked up my 2nd friend, a lady in her 30s, travelling
with a great suitcase and a couple of bags, who knew her way around but who had
got onto the wrong platform, and who was regretting having crossed over with
her bags. She didn’t say so, but obviously had, and anyway she was very
helpful to us two kids in giving us an idea of the best way to get home.
A guard said that I’d have to go to Mile End, still before Plaistow, and get a
bus. However, no train appeared on our platform and so I offered to carry
her case over to the other platform, where trains were going back the way we’d
come, but where there was a chance of getting to Mile End. So she very
gratefully accepted, and we took our little boy with us, and crossed over and
caught a train that was then waiting. At Monument station we walked
underground to Bank, got on the Central Line and were on our way. Actually
we left her at Bank as the train which the boy and I got – it was his homebound
one – wasn’t going far enough for her, and she waved and said God bless as we
went. She was very nice, but possibly a bit worried in case I took off
with her case – people, according to Mike and K. don’t help each other much in
London, but from things I’ve seen, just quietly, I think they’re wrong (M &
K, I mean)! Anyway, my little boy – who had a hair-lip scar – and I shot
through to Mile End where he went on, saying thank you (I don’t know what for,
because he probably knew more about it all than I do) and where by that time I
was able to catch a very crowded train to P. (This morning it was
absolutely packed, and tonight was worse – I thought I’d seen the rush hour
jam, but tonight when I put my arm up to take hold of the strap to hang on, I couldn’t
get it down again, until we reached a station!)
My troubles weren't over:
I’d bought some mince on Sat, and used half of it in my main meal on Sat, and
had kept the rest for Sun. Was all organised, yesterday. I took the
meat out of the cupboard, opened it, closed it, and threw it in the waste-bin,
then I took the lot outside, and put it in the bucket!! Was I mad? I
thought it would at least last 24 hours! Fortunately I had 2 sausages
left over from breakfast, so I combined them in a thing called Italian Risotto
Milanese, or some-such, substituting what I had in me larder for what they
suggested in the recipe. I think the only thing we both used was the
rice! However it did not kill me. But I’m going to a different
butcher in future. Should never have trusted this one – he has the only
dirty postcards I’ve ever seen hung up on his wall![I presume I meant
that he was the only butcher who’d ever displayed dirty postcards. My inexperience as a cook keeps
showing up in these letters; refrigerators were much less common, of course,
and I don't think we had one at my home in Dunedin at that point, so keeping
meat fresh was always a bit of an issue.]
Today at the OC the only thing I was down for all day was German, which
seems a bit odd, but I went in at 10 all the same, and spent the morning doing
things on my own, and this afternoon looked in on a coaching session by Norman
Feasey*, one of the big reps in London. Great on Wagner,
apparently. (He was coaching Alan Opie, a
baritone about my age, from Cornwall, and quite a friendly guy. He’s in
one of The Telephone casts.) N.F was seated when I arrived, and I noticed
as the lesson went on that though he was shorter than me when sitting he had
enormous bone structure, so that when he did finally stand, he sort of expanded
in all directions.
Tomorrow is busy again, Wednesday not bad, although though I have the
afternoon off, we’ve all got to go to a dress rehearsal of the Opera For All
Group’s Italian Girl in Algiers at 6.00 which is a bit of a nuisance
[handwritten] because it’s a waste of time and cash to go home in the
afternoon. Ann Gordon is in it. Anyway I hadn’t intended to fill
this whole air-letter! Never mind. Lots & lots of love Mike.
Dear Mum, how are the
pair of you thriving? I had a ridiculous day yesterday, Sunday, but quite
interesting for all that. In the morning I had decided to go to Mass at
the Convent which is only a short distance from Newman Rd. This was the
first time I’d gone there because the first Sunday I went way up to the next
parish and the last two have been spent in Wood Green. I arrived to find
the place singularly quiet for a Catholic Church, and Mass just finished.
And not another! However there was a priest there and we had a wee chat
and he gave me a timetable on the newsletter, and said I could go to Mass at 12
at the main parish church down in the Barking Road. So I went home again
and had breakfast, and then at 11.45 set off, thinking that this would give me
plenty of time. It turned out to be a longer walk than I anticipated but
I made it with a second to spare. On the way home it rained, and for once
I didn’t have an umbrella. So I got a bit wet, but it was one of those
days when it suddenly pours out of a blue sky.
I did some German – incidentally, the 3rd Programme is starting a German lesson
series on Monday, so I think I’ll get their little booklet and listen to that
in conjunction with the OC’s classes. (I'm still not very enthused over
the Italian lessons – which makes it harder; at least Frau Radinger has a
marvellous sense of humour and we really have a good time learning, but in the
other class we waste more time than anything.)
After this I had planned to go to see a Laurel and Hardy Quartet of
films at the NFT. It poured as I was setting out for Plaistow
station. Anyway, saw the films, which were very good, without getting very
wet on the way, and then hopped on the usual train to come back. The
gremlins were at work again. We got as far as Mansion House and the train
was stopped and everyone told to change. So an entire train-load of
people walked up over to the next platform, and waited...and waited. A
guard told a group of people near me that someone had jumped under a train at
Aldgate East which was between there and Plaistow. But at another station
they reckoned that something had collapsed on the line. Anyway, the next
train was going to Tower Hill, a little further on my way, so I got on
that. And would have got a Circle Line to take me on a detour, avoiding
the station where the trouble was. However the wait at Tower Hill was
even longer. On the trip to there I picked up a wee friend, a boy of
about 10 or 11, who was going North-East. He and I had a discussion going
to TH as to what was the best route for him to take, though I wasn’t a lot of
help. At TH, I picked up my 2nd friend, a lady in her 30s, travelling
with a great suitcase and a couple of bags, who knew her way around but who had
got onto the wrong platform, and who was regretting having crossed over with
her bags. She didn’t say so, but obviously had, and anyway she was very
helpful to us two kids in giving us an idea of the best way to get home.
A guard said that I’d have to go to Mile End, still before Plaistow, and get a
bus. However, no train appeared on our platform and so I offered to carry
her case over to the other platform, where trains were going back the way we’d
come, but where there was a chance of getting to Mile End. So she very
gratefully accepted, and we took our little boy with us, and crossed over and
caught a train that was then waiting. At Monument station we walked
underground to Bank, got on the Central Line and were on our way. Actually
we left her at Bank as the train which the boy and I got – it was his homebound
one – wasn’t going far enough for her, and she waved and said God bless as we
went. She was very nice, but possibly a bit worried in case I took off
with her case – people, according to Mike and K. don’t help each other much in
London, but from things I’ve seen, just quietly, I think they’re wrong (M &
K, I mean)! Anyway, my little boy – who had a hair-lip scar – and I shot
through to Mile End where he went on, saying thank you (I don’t know what for,
because he probably knew more about it all than I do) and where by that time I
was able to catch a very crowded train to P. (This morning it was
absolutely packed, and tonight was worse – I thought I’d seen the rush hour
jam, but tonight when I put my arm up to take hold of the strap to hang on, I couldn’t
get it down again, until we reached a station!)
My troubles weren't over:
I’d bought some mince on Sat, and used half of it in my main meal on Sat, and
had kept the rest for Sun. Was all organised, yesterday. I took the
meat out of the cupboard, opened it, closed it, and threw it in the waste-bin,
then I took the lot outside, and put it in the bucket!! Was I mad? I
thought it would at least last 24 hours! Fortunately I had 2 sausages
left over from breakfast, so I combined them in a thing called Italian Risotto
Milanese, or some-such, substituting what I had in me larder for what they
suggested in the recipe. I think the only thing we both used was the
rice! However it did not kill me. But I’m going to a different
butcher in future. Should never have trusted this one – he has the only
dirty postcards I’ve ever seen hung up on his wall![I presume I meant
that he was the only butcher who’d ever displayed dirty postcards. My inexperience as a cook keeps
showing up in these letters; refrigerators were much less common, of course,
and I don't think we had one at my home in Dunedin at that point, so keeping
meat fresh was always a bit of an issue.]
Today at the OC the only thing I was down for all day was German, which
seems a bit odd, but I went in at 10 all the same, and spent the morning doing
things on my own, and this afternoon looked in on a coaching session by Norman
Feasey*, one of the big reps in London. Great on Wagner,
apparently. (He was coaching Alan Opie, a
baritone about my age, from Cornwall, and quite a friendly guy. He’s in
one of The Telephone casts.) N.F was seated when I arrived, and I noticed
as the lesson went on that though he was shorter than me when sitting he had
enormous bone structure, so that when he did finally stand, he sort of expanded
in all directions.
Tomorrow is busy again, Wednesday not bad, although though I have the
afternoon off, we’ve all got to go to a dress rehearsal of the Opera For All
Group’s Italian Girl in Algiers at 6.00 which is a bit of a nuisance
[handwritten] because it’s a waste of time and cash to go home in the
afternoon. Ann Gordon is in it. Anyway I hadn’t intended to fill
this whole air-letter! Never mind. Lots & lots of love Mike.
