5.2.69
Dear Mum, I’m writing this in a time of some depression, so I’m
afraid it may be all a bit miserable as far as reading goes. Perhaps you should
throw it away now. The so-called results of the auditions have out ˗ with a
letter to each of the three reps from the Centre who went in for it running
thus: (after thanking us for playing) The
Panel was interested to hear your performance, but felt that more time is needed
to decide on the question of a pianist. Probably we shall ask you to
re-audition within a month. [I think I'd always fallen comfortably into jobs in New Zealand, and assumed it would be the same in the UK.]
I ask you, what sort of a letter is that? John, whom I’m
flatting with now, and who is in the know as to what goes on in the Centre ˗ he’s
‘assistant House Manager,’ whatever
that is ˗ had already told me that this was
what they were going to say to us, but I sort of wasn’t concerned. Tonight however
when he bought the letter home with him, I ceased to be annoyed about the whole
thing, and just became depressed. John let it drop that they seem to think that
the standard at the C. isn’t as high as last year, and I feel that once again I’m
not sure if I’m good enough. I keep telling myself that I am, and this keeps me
going for a while, but then I know deep down that there is just so much I don’t
know, and just so much that I don’t seem to be able to do with the ease that I should,
that I wonder if I’m really cut out for it. But if I’m not cut out for this what
am I to do? So once again, I lay the story in your lap, and know that you’ll
write back and say, that of course I’m capable of doing it, but in this I’m
afraid that your word isn’t sufficient! I’m glad to hear you say so, of course,
but this doesn’t seem to help to make me the better musician that I should
already be, and don’t seem to be getting. Oh, I know I’ve improved in some ways
since I’ve been here, but the others have probably done the same, and are still
just as far ahead.
You know, the Good Lord makes it a bit tough just landing us
in this earth with scarcely any guide rules about how we are to cope with practical
living: I mean like knowing that we have a certain talent but not knowing
whether it’s sufficient to carry us through. Or to put it another way, to feel
that the work we enjoy isn’t necessarily going to be the work we can do for a
living. I know that He’s got his eye on us, and has obviously kept His eye on
me since I’ve been here. In some ways I’ve never been so well looked after; but
to have a talent that is halfway between being good or bad is very difficult. It’s
the problem of coping with a mind that isn’t prepared to do ordinary
office-work, or some such, because I just don’t have ambition in that respect,
and yet this self-same mind has to cope with knowing that it’s possibly not good enough to do what it really
wishes to do. I’ll keep on praying, and hope that He sees fit to let me know
what he has in store and wants me to do. [This
argument about the level of talent has continued long past my time in the UK ˗
what I didn’t realise at that time was that I wasn’t putting enough work into
practice, into improving in the areas that I wasn’t so good at, and into
learning how to do the things I couldn’t do. That would all have helped in some
measure at least. And while I don’t believe the saying that the Good Lord helps those who
help themselves, he still does expect us to put the work in to make our talent
usable!]
Let’s get off the dreary subject of tomorrow, and have a look at something I know a bit about! I got me first letter at me new
address today, forwarded from Plaistow, (tho’ left upstairs, at 23) so I feel
as tho’ I’m beginning to belong here now. John and I get on very well ˗ whereas
Kingsley barely said a word most of the time he was at no 13, John talks
nonstop! It’s a refreshing change, and he is generally interesting. Julie is a
nice wee soul, short and with long blonde hair, and fairly quiet ˗ as much as
any girl ever is, I suppose! [Oh, so
unbelievably patronising!]
Glad to see you enjoyed your little holiday, and are being
looked after. This place is still a bit shambolic ˗ tho’ we had plates, saucers
and cups, and basic cutlery, with a couple of pots, and a pan thrown in, we
keep finding things that we need that we haven’t got. [Think this sentence must be an example of my Irish heritage.] And
that were supplied at Plaistow. Never mind, we’re surviving, and I daresay we
will continue to do so. (Just as an afterthought to my above unpleasant topic,
wouldn’t it be nice if we could say to the Good Lord when we felt like it, Look, Lord, I think I’ve been down here long
enough, how about finishing off this only occasionally pleasant life down here?
It’s probably just as well we can’t. [I bet my mother thought so too; such a
jaundiced view of life from an inexperienced 23-year-old.]
 |
| St Mary's Catholic Church, Blackheath |
Since I last wrote I’ve also met the other boy that was
originally to come in here with the present other two. He’s a talker too, and
funnily enough seemed to want to put me, particularly, off Julie. (Apparently
his mother has been ill, mentally, of late which was the reason for his not
coming in, but John also keeps talking about his having gone off to Paris ˗ he
must have been there a very short time, that’s all I can say.) It’s all very confusing,
and I only hope it’s not going to get awkward. Anyway, this other boy, also a
John, came in the other night, and the way he carried on when Julie was here
was just annoying to say the least. John Gray, seemed quite annoyed too and I think
has second thoughts about any changes that might have been planned. I don’t
know how it was all to work, but it seems this other John was to move in when
Julie moved out, but just how Julie was to go I don’t know! Anyway, it seems to
both John and me, that things are satisfactory enough as they are, and we
present three are getting on quite well. Anyway strictly speaking this other
John could do nothing about it, as John G. and I are the people who’ve signed
the agreement for the place (for six months) and he hasn’t so...?
I think I’ll cope financially, in fact, I’m sure I will, and
John has already given me some lifts back and forth from the Opera C. And
funnily enough, it’s actually quicker to go from Charing Cross to Blackheath by
British Railways, than it used to be to go from C. Cross to Plaistow by tube!
And it costs the same. So though it seems as though I’m further out of London, I
don’t know that I actually am. Greenwich Observatory is just near ˗ in walking
distance, and so is the Thames, and the Cutty Sark and some other important
boats are moored in dry dock on the way we go to work. Quite an old.
interesting
area really. Blackheath Village is in a little valley ˗ we’re on one side of
the hill; and the Catholic Church is 5 minutes away ˗ and
So ˗ that’s the present situation. Anyway, LOTS of LOVE Mike
P.S. Our Master Classes don’t end till Friday week ˗ very
short rehearsal time.
