Memories, Dreams and Reflections by Marianne Faithfull

Author:Marianne Faithfull [Faithfull, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Autobiography, Biography, Music, Non-Fiction
Amazon: B002RI9TZK
Publisher: Harper Perennial
Published: 2008-09-03T23:00:00+00:00

I can imagine! It was great fun for a while, like one long non-stop party, in fact, in this tiny little mews house, and then at some point I started flagging and then it all became a bit much for me. I started to think: ‘I don’t know if I can deal with this!’ I couldn’t go on. And so one day I slyly, and not completely disinterestedly, began thinking: ‘Well, what would you do if you were Henrietta and you were very firmly being nudged out of the nest?’ And I thought, well, what I would do is get a job. That’s the logical thing to do, you know, if you’re living with somebody who has no money and there’s no trust fund, no nothing, someone who can barely look after herself. There was one problem with this logical train of thought: it was the one notion that would never ever have occurred to Hen. I waited and waited for her to get a job, but Henrietta had not the slightest inclination to work for a living – none at all.

Well … we’ve all been in this situation a million times, and you know there comes a point even for talented layabouts where you say to yourself, ‘Right, I’ve got to find something to do!’ Write a book, make a record, sell drugs, you know, something. But if you haven’t got an aptitude for any of these things, then you just get a job! I mean, I never said anything, but I always thought she’d be really happy as a barmaid, and very good at it, but she didn’t want that – or anything remotely like it. There was something so sort of twisted about her attitude – not in a bad way – but, to be honest, her approach to work was practically sociopathic. She absolutely didn’t want to be on the side of the normal straight people with jobs; she would have rather killed herself. As Hen herself would be the first to admit:

I dropped out. I started to retreat. One morning I woke up and, instead of leaping into the bath and off to work, I lay in bed and thought, To hell with it, I’ve had enough. I’m just not going to spend my life dreaming up ways to sell pens and cars and sausages and beans. I stayed in bed for six weeks, watching television and drinking Teacher’s whisky – I believe I liked the name.

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