Dear Lupin...: Letters to a Wayward Son by Mortimer Charlie

Author:Mortimer Charlie
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Non-Fiction: General, recent
ISBN: 9781780330136
Publisher: Constable & Robinson Ltd
Published: 2012-05-02T23:00:00+00:00

1979

21 January

Dear Lupin,

I was glad to hear you arrived safely and have met your cousin (or very nearly your cousin). Please give her my love. The weather here continues to be uncouth and the snow has been lying around deep and crisp and even. Actually it thawed in places yesterday and your mother was able to hunt. To her chagrin, she was brought down by a small child on a grey pony, but happily nothing was dented bar her dignity. Her arm is painful still and furthermore she has an abscess in her nose and a couple of mouth ulcers, all of which very understandably make her temper a trifle on the short side. I hope she will consult Dr Keeble tomorrow if he is not on strike, which almost every public employee seems likely to be. Poor Jane is snowed up and for several days Brocks Bushes has been without heating or light: not very comfortable. She was due to fly to Paris tomorrow with Paul but strikes and the weather have put a stop to that. I have been reading the proofs of a book of mine due out in April. The lady who compiled the index must have been pissed when she did her work: no sober individual could have done such a lamentable job. I have just sent in a note of protest that will ruffle a few feathers (I hope). The Surtees are giving dinner for twenty in their barn on Saturday. I trust the heating arrangements will be adequate or I foresee a few deaths from hypothermia. Your mother is not on speaking terms with Aunt Pam, diplomatic relations having been severed following a rather blunt letter about your mother’s predominantly liquid diet. Mr Parkinson lunches here today. He is dead windy that his mother-in-law, a neurotic alcoholic, is planning to become a permanent boarder with him. Aunt Joan has just written to say how useful those groceries have been that you delivered to her. She does not go out yet in bad weather as she is nervous of falling. Old Luckes is back home, very much thinner and a good deal more gaga. Mr Mayhew-Saunders has been given a helicopter by his firm. I remember before he married his future father-in-law rated him the stupidest officer in the Navy. Mr Randall has been poorly: Mrs R. says he lives on strong tea and cigarette smoke. As he is seventy-four the combination seems to suit him. My last book has had a very good review in the Financial Times which may help to sell about three copies. I have had a long letter about finance from Keith Barlow, very little of which I understand. He is, if anything, more pessimistic than I am. There is no shortage in the shops here though Jacksons say they may run out of loo paper and firelighters. Yesterday I cooked my own lunch and was just settling down to it when I saw a monster slug clambering up on a sausage.

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