23.9.67 - haircut and last letter from Sydney

23.9.67 Sydney

Re above date: just got a very overdue letter (dated 13/9/67) which had come via Manhattan. [The hotel, not the island.] And me mother was very sarcastic about putting on the dates!

Well, this will be the last letter you get before I arrive home; you’ll already know about my coming because I’ve just sent you a telegram. Am going to stay with Marge – have a feeling Glenda’s rather booked up – there’s 3 of them staying there just now. So I’ll be spending another night in danger of being eaten alive (with love) by Judy. [Marge’s dog.]

Spent most of yesterday in town. Incidentally heard from Pikler who was very sorry to say he couldn’t be of any help – I think he was a wee bit nonplussed when I didn’t sound put-down. I’m rather relieved in a way. Things could have got very complicated if I’d stayed on here. I’ down to my last $10!

ANZAC War Memorial

Went to the Museum yesterday, but since it’s mainly a natural history one I wasn’t madly enthused – I’d much rather see animals alive than stuffed. Then went into Hyde Park which is just across the road and watched some elderly men playing chess and draughts on little tables with the squares already marked out. The great big War Memorial is there too.

Then went and had a haircut. Well -----!!! When I came out I must have smelt as though I’d been dunked in a perfume-cum-hair-oil barrel. [These were the days when NZ men were men – as far as haircuts went. You went to the barber for your short back and sides and no frills, thank you.]

First he thoroughly wet my hair, then he razor-cut a lot of it (and scissored) then he cottonwoolled on some lather round the edges and razored that very precisely, then he stuck some rather stinging stuff on, then he dried it all again. Then he talcum-powdered (!) round the edge, then he oiled it a bit --- YUKK! And when he’d finished (80c later) it looked much the same as ever! Still, I at least felt that I’d got my 80c worth! [2018: The prices in these letters seem extraordinarily low…now.]

After this I decided to get something for Anne and the kids and during the course of this I so lost you wouldn’t believe it. Not that it was as bad as in the cemetery, but I’d go into an arcade and come out at a different angel, then have to go to a corner to find which street I was in, then have try and figure out whether I was above or below such and such another street, then I’d got into another arcade and come out in a tiny little street that led back to where I started!  AAAGH!!!

In the end I got Anne some flowers; they’ll arrive on Monday; what a job to think of something she’d like. Still, they’re always acceptable, I think. [2018: I don’t think I paid her anything for staying with her for a week or so…such is the ignorance of youth. This youth, anyway.] I got Chris a couple of packets of stamps – one mixed and the other a set of cats from Poland. They’re delightful. And I got Jenny a pretty pink vase – she’s quite keen on china and whatnots.

Then home exhausted.

Watched 2 films (in a row) last nite: one called Dragonwyck, about Gene Tierney who goes to act as governess for Vincent Price in a huge mansion, then later marries him when his first wife dies. Supposed to be very horrific, but only that in about 2 places when a supposed ghost sings and plays on a harpsichord – but only a certain number of people hear her. Well done, though.

The other was Life Begins at 8.30, about an elderly actor who has taken to drink (Monty Woolley) and whose daughter (Ida Lupino) is torn between him and Cornel Wilde (a composer, again!). It was very funny, in spots, very warm, very human (!) But quite well done. [Not sure what the point of the italics are in that last sentence…] Originally based on an Emlyn Williams play, but I don’t think there was much left of it. I also had the uncanny feeling of having seen it before – but the name doesn’t mean anything. Certain scenes and shots looked surprisingly familiar.

So, lots of love until I see yuh,

Mike (xxx to Fred). 

This is the last letter in the series. 

9.9.67 Being a tourist

9.9.67

I’m sitting right opposite the Harbour Bridge which is 60 times more striking than I ever thought it was in pictures. And the sea’s a blaze of blue – it’s fabulous. There’s a little ferry going past – they really travel, those things; and a couple of trains have just gone over the bridge – what a racket they make! It must be something to do with the atmosphere – but every time I hear one go over, I think it’s a jet flying above – funny, isn’t it? There’s boats and ferries and hovercrafts galore (and yachts).

To my right is the Opera House – it really will be magnificent, if they ever finish it. I’m going round to see if I can get a closer look, in a minute.

Conservatorium of Music courtesy Wikicommons
How did I fail to mention that it looked like a castle?

To my left is a massive grey and blue-black building – must be about 15 storeys and there’s a couple more further along. (I’m in the Botanical Gardens – which seem to go on forever.) Everywhere there’s people taking photos of other people standing in front of things. Government House is over behind me – it looks rather like ‘Manderley’ in Rebecca and the Con (Conservatorium of Music) is further back. It’s a lovely white place with lots of square turrets. (Gov House has got round ones!)

The little black and white friend has just gone past again and there’s some sort of large (very) motorboat tugging by just now.

It’s a terrific day (Not Too Hot) but a little cold in the shade.

I started to move off to see the Opera H and discovered me shoes were untied – I’d forgotten. Wonder how many steps I’ve taken in the last few days.

The Opera House gets bigger and bigger. There’s a little observation hut with scale models etc, and it’s going to be some mighty place. The steps up the front (which are partly completed) seem to go in every direction for yards and if you think the building is large you should see the crane in front – it’s a whopper. I’d really like to see this place when it’s finished.

Blackman's Angry Young Girl
courtesy Art Gallery of NSW

LATER. Waffled round in the garden (which seems to go on forever) (- I certainly didn’t go from one end to the other ) for quite a while, then discovered the Art Gallery, which, in spite of Cecil P’s remarks, is definitely better than anything I’ve ever seen. He reckoned it wasn’t a patch on Melbourne’s. anyway, I had a good look around there and it’s got some marvellous stuff – a Millais, Henry Moores, Rembrandt sketches – all the things a gallery should have. It’s even got the original of Chaucer reading to…? (someone or other) [Chaucer at the court of Edward III by Ford Madox Ford] which I seem to recall is in in one of the Wonderland of Knowledges. [A set of encyclopedias which had long had a place in our home.] It’s a massive painting – indeed many of them are – huge! There are two quite hilarious ones: The Angry Little Girl who has a face quite screwed up with annoy (it’s a modern one) and another – a portrait of some Australian VIP lady. She’s – well in this shape. [A diagram was scribbled on the page. The Angry Young Girl is by Charles Blackman. Can’t identify the other.] sort of all elongated towards the top – almost a triangle in human shape. I wonder how she liked it? I’m at the pictures, just waiting for it to start. I notice Sound of M is in its 3^rd year and Dr Z in his 2^nd!

LATER AGAIN. Film was very good – very well acted. Went and had tea in the restaurant where Cecil and I went the other day. An old (I think he looked older than he was) chap sat in the same booth as me – and acted, or at least spoke as if he was drunk, yet didn’t smell drunk at all. We had quite a wee chat, anyway, when he wasn’t apologising to me for interrupting, or being there, or living!

That’s about it. I’m going to try and have an early night – I’ve woken up very tired every day so far! Caught Mass at St Mary’s when I dropped in for a visit today – they’d only just started, so I thought I might as well stay.

See ya, love, Mike

20.9.68 Culture Shock and Shock of Recognition

20.9.68

Hullo, old soul, how are you and the kid? [The cat] You’re a regular genius, you know, that poem was a delight and really cheered me up; in fact I got 3 letters in two days, and that was marvellous.  But I’m afraid since then I’ve felt a bit depressed – almost as bad as when I was in Rome. Don’t know why, it just seemed to get to me yesterday, and yet I was quite enjoying myself.  So I’m sorry if this isn’t too happy a letter.  I know I’ll get over it, but it just seems to hit you every now and then, as you no doubt well know. I think, perhaps, once I get started on the course I’ll be all right, but at the moment I’m rather concerned about how it’ll all go. I don’t think I mind living in England at all, though morally I don’t think the climate is as good as NZ, and they’re worried about NZ – so!  [One of the most startling things to my eyes at this point, I remember, was a huge poster for a Swedish movie that hung from a building in Central London: the two actors were naked and making love.  Commonplace now, perhaps, but at the time shocking.]

Kiri put me off a little yesterday I think with her scandal sheet about some of the happenings last year at the school.  So between us (you and me I mean) we’ll have to pray like mad that I can steer clear of that sort of thing.  [I probably never told my mother about the many ‘scandalous’ things that did go on in the course of the year, amongst both students and staff.]

Well, that’s made me feel a bit better, but it’s probably made you feel worse.  I’m sorry about that, but at the moment you’re the only one I can really put everything straight to. Perhaps I shouldn't send this, just carry on typing until I’ve got it out of my system, and then destroy it? 

I’ve had a couple of meals at the Centre the last two lunch times – quite reasonable dinners at not too bad prices, so that would seem to help.  And saves me fiddling around till 7 at night cooking a big meal when I get home.  Not that I mind, I bought myself a little book called the No Time to Cookbook, and it’s already come in handy.  It has recipes for meals that take 10, 20 and 30 minutes so is quite good because they’re all fairly filling.  Some are a bit expensive, however, so I’ll stick to the cheaper ones. 

Did I tell you I gave the Crowls some chocs last time I was there; I’ll see if I can get some flowers for Mavis this time.  This will be the last weekend for a couple as they’re going on holiday. 

There have been two or 3 things I’ve meant to say for ages and keep forgetting.  First I must apologise on my bended knees for being so rude to you on the day I left – I know I’m always a bit shirty on that sort of occasion, but I seemed to be extra nasty that day.  I am really sorry.  Next to mention the little old houses that we saw going into Rome (!): several of them had little niches up in the wall and there would be a statue of Our Lady standing in them.  Similarly in London there are odd little statues hanging on buildings or sitting in some unexpected corner.  Very few religious ones of course, but occasionally I’ve seen a crucifix or somesuch hanging over a door.  And last night I saw the second of two quite absurd accidents: a taxi was standing in the middle  of Plaistow High St, with another car pulled up behind it, when a bloke in a little sports model pulled out from across the street (I think) and quite happily ran into the back of the car!  I don’t suppose he was too happy about it really, but it just seemed too silly to have happened.  No one hurt.  And another day this week a fellow who one minute was parked at the side of the street came suddenly shooting down and into the back of another parked car.  I don’t know whether his brakes suddenly failed or what!  And another titbit.  There is a little man with a moustache doing a buskers act outside one of the Piccadilly Circus theatres each time I go past.  he has a couple of people playing for him and sings and dances without a sign of strain, and he’s not all that young, either.

Onto what little I’ve done this week.  On Monday I went to the National Gallery and actually managed to get right round it, I think.  it’s amazing though to see half the pictures (well some!) that are in the Wonderland of Knowledge and other places just sitting there!  A whole room of Rembrandts, dozens of Italian paintings of the 16^th and 17^th centuries, and a host of others that you’d know by sight too I’m sure.  The funny part is seeing them in colour after looking at the black and white pictures for so long: it sure makes a difference.  [The Wonderland of Knowledge was a set of a dozen hardbound books covering a huge variety of topics of interest to a growing mind that had been in my home for as long as I could remember; I’d studied the pictures in it for years – though not the text so much – and so was familiar with many of these paintings when I came to see them live.] 

On Tuesday I joined the Nat. Film Theatre, which since it works out to something like a penny a day seems quite reasonable.  Plus the fact that you get a lot of free guff as well as free copies of Sight and Sound, the big Brit. film mag.  I also went in and saw something called [The Extraordinary Adventures of] Mr West in the Land ofthe Bolsheviks, a silent film which was extremely funny in a goon-show way. Mr West is an American senator who goes to Russia (complete with cowboy protection!) and gets involved with a gang who do him out of all his dollars. 

On Wed, I went to the Meistersingers which cost a pound, which is a lot.  I could have perhaps got in for less but it would have meant a killing evening’s sitting: the show starts at 5.15 and goes till 11.30!!  So I got a slightly better seat, and a marvellous view, and still didn’t have anywhere to put my feet!!  None of the London theatres think about this apparently.  But it was worth it.  There are two breaks, one of 15 minutes and another of 45.  Over a 100 in the orch, and more on stage.  Fantastic. 

Last night, because the Opera Centre got half price seats I went to a concert at the Royal Festival Hall.  And even though it’s a new hall, there’s nowhere to put your feet!   We got the cheapest seats, and they were still excellent.  It’s a great place: 3 huge floors all fronted by glass, looking out over the Thames.  They played my favourite Mozart Concerto, outstandingly, and two Beethoven bits. [Not at all informative; I don’t now know what my ‘favourite’ Mozart Concerto was.]  London is still small: the boy next to me was a NZer (so he said to his girlfriend!) and Gerald Krug, one of the Aussie Conductors during last year’s little trip of mine, was there with his wife.  At least I’m sure it was him.  He didn’t seem to recollect me when I sort of kept wandering around them at the interval, so I didn’t speak in case it wasn’t; but I’m sure it was!  People here don’t seem to expect to see anyone they know.  Going to Reg’s last week, there were three Americans on the tube [handwritten from this point on] who stayed on when I got off.  They turned up at St Alban’s Cathedral.  I wasn’t greatly surprised but the Crowls seemed to be! – when I told them, that is. I’d better go and do some work and have some breakfast etc.  An awful lot of love – Milke (who?) Mike.

[This business of meeting people I knew from New Zealand in such a vast congregation of people has always intrigued me. When Celia and I go on trips out of Dunedin we always keep an eye out for people we know, and usually meet at least one person.  But that’s in NZ.  When my wife Celia and my eldest daughter Stefanie  went to England around 1987, Stef was taken by some of her relatives in Northampton to the mall at Milton Keynes.  She met my cousin from Dunedin! When Celia and I were in England in 2007 we travelled some distance out of our way to catch up with another one of my cousins, whom I hadn’t seen in years. When we first arrived she was out, and the woman she lives with entertained us. When my cousin arrived, it was with my uncle from Dunedin in tow – I hadn’t even known he was over there.]