Love, Nina (13 page)

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

MK never likes to be caught off-guard. She was saying this at supper.

Me: Such as?

MK: Asleep, for instance.

Sam: No one's ever seen her asleep.

Will: Apart from Father Christmas.

Me: I hate being seen yawning.

Will: What about picking your nose?

Sam: Or looking at your hands?

Me: You can't avoid being caught out sometimes.

MK: Unless you remain
on guard
at all times.

It reminded me of the photograph of Misty in the newspaper (at Cruft's dog show, looking at the bottom of her shoe). She (Misty) thought it was embarrassing, not the looking at the bottom of her shoe, but looking
worried
about it.

Told MK who said, “If you can't look worried at a dog show, where can you?”

MK had a load of people round. Including a bloke who bought her a bunch of roses even though it wasn't her birthday yet and she was only offering a pan of soup and M&S table wine (no pudding). They didn't look much (the roses), just buds and leaves, but were supposedly going to blossom gradually in the vase (jug).

The bloke handed them over and said something muffled. I think it was shyness. MK was nice and said thank you with her head on one side. Maybe something's going on. The bloke is nice. Arty and thoughtful.

The roses: MK didn't know, and neither did I (then) about the thing where you have to bash the stems or they die. So the next morning (yesterday), I was surprised to see all the little rosebud heads hanging, and so was MK (surprised).

Me: Oh no, look at the rosebuds.

MK: What's wrong with them?

Me: They're dead.

MK: They can't be already, they haven't blossomed.

Me: (
lying
) Maybe they'll perk up.

MK: (
resigned
) Or maybe that's that.

I said it was just like the camellia all over again, referring to the plant that a previous one gave her last year (that died even though I sprinkled acidic granules).

Later, AB arrived and I pointed out the sickly roses and he shouted, “Get the steak mallet,” and I shouted, “The what?” and he shouted, “Get the rolling pin,” and I riffled among the kitchen utensils and passed it to AB who grabbed it, bashed the rose stems and flung them under the cold tap. Within an hour they'd perked up.

Me: Look at the roses now.

MK: Ooh.

AB: You see—you have to bash the stems.

MK: Yes, thank you.

AB: Did you not know that?

MK: It rings a bell now.

Anyway, that's what you have to do with cut flowers, otherwise they can't take up the water and the heads flop.

Tonight. Roses were blooming, custardy petals already browning at the edges. I said in my opinion roses were overrated as a flower and AB agreed, saying
cut
roses generally have no smell to speak of, and the smell being the main thing (about a rose).

Mary-Kay said she wondered why we'd bothered with the emergency procedure the night before just to criticize everything about them now they'd made a good recovery. AB said it was the proper conduct—according to the Hippocratic oath (meaning, you save lives and question later).

Told MK what you said about buttercups. She had to agree.

Made an unsuccessful shepherd's pie. Unsuccessful due to the potato top being made out of new potatoes, as opposed to ordinary.

You're not meant to mash
new
potatoes, only old. It's a cookery rule that you'd never know until you've seen it for yourself (like bashing the rose stems). New potatoes go gluey if you mash them and aren't nice to eat. It was a shame because the bottom half (of pie) was v. nice with lots of celery, carrot, and onion and two Oxo cubes.

AB: You can't really mash new potatoes.

Me: How do you know if they're new?

Sam: They're small and muddy.

Me: So you can't mash them?

Will: No, never mash new potatoes.

Me: How come everyone knows so much about potatoes?

Sam: You just pick these things up.

Will: Yeah, you live and learn.

Love, Nina

PS Did you know about not mashing new potatoes?

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Good news. Mary-Kay has pranged the car at long last—a relief after all mine (prangs). She drove into a rope, which was “the same color as the road and sky.” Plus it was roping off an area that isn't usually roped off.

Sam: It's mum's first time crashing.

Me: Yeah, but it's worse than any of mine—in terms of damage done.

MK: Hmm.

Me: Mine never required any action to be taken.

MK: Only the untangling of deception and denial.

Me: You dented the number plate—irreparably.

MK: True, but my credibility remains intact.

Told Misty that MK is unusual.

Me: She's just very unusual.

Misty: Is she a bit mad?

Me: God, no, she's 100 percent sane.

Misty: That's unusual.

Me: That's what I mean.

S&W talking about whether or not they're going to take up smoking.

Will: I'm going to have one after every meal.

Sam: So four per day, then?

Will: Three.

Sam: It's unhealthy.

Will: Yes, especially if you've got asthma.

Sam: I'm going to smoke one per day walking to the tube.

Will: What about walking back from the tube?

Sam: Two per day, then.

Will: What about after every meal?

Sam: Stop encouraging me, I'm just having one per day.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Leaving the house for Great Ormond St. appointment.

Me: Do you need spare batteries for your Walkman?

Sam: (
thinking
) No, it's only a four-song trip.

Waiting at Great Ormond St.

Me: Are you famous?

Sam: Yes.

Me: Are you to do with sport?

Sam: No.

Me: Are you on telly?

Sam: Er, yes.

Etc.…

Me: OK, I give in, who are you?

Sam: Anne Kirkbridge.

Me: Anne Kirkbridge?

Sam: Yes.

Me: Who's Anne Kirkbridge?

Sam: She's on the telly.

Me: Doing what?

Sam: This and that.

Your garden sounds very nice now.

If you want to sit in the garden here, you just take a hard chair from the table and sit out there, bolt upright, alone, in a drainy area near the small blue shed. There's no lounging.

Me: (
about garden
) Maybe we should have a bench or something.

MK: What?

Me: I was thinking about garden chairs.

MK: We never go out there.

Will: Sam goes out there and acts weird.

Sam: I don't.

Will: He potters and looks over the wall.

Sam: I do not.

Will: What the hell do you do out there if you don't potter or look over the wall?

Sam: I just wander round.

MK: That's pottering.

Sam: OK. But I do not look over the wall.

Funny, because in France they're outside all day long with just their cozies on. They'd never do that here, even in a heat wave.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

The Saab was admitted due to the overheating thing. Good job Nunney came with me to the mechanics (to do the talking and listening).

Me: Good job you were with me.

Nunney: Why?

Me: I'm phobic about car garages.

Nunney: I thought it was butchers.

Me: It's car garages
and
butchers.

Nunney: How are you with abattoirs?

Have been using AB's Audi for essential trips. Don't think much to it. Poor vision at the back and a bit tinny.

Me: Can I borrow the car for a minute?

AB: Yes, where are you going?

Me: Just up to Jake's.

AB: Righto.

Thing is, there's no Jake, I just said Jake's like that because I wanted to nip up to Hampstead and I knew if I said I wanted to nip up to Hampstead he'd say, “Can't you get the bus?”

Later, at supper:

Sam: (
to AB
) I like your car.

Me: I'm not keen, you can't see out the back.

AB: I can see out of the back.

Me: You're taller.

AB: Put a cushion in.

Me: I won't need it again.

AB: Not to nip up to Jake's?

MK: Who's Jake?

Me: A friend.

AB: She borrowed the car to drive over there this afternoon.

MK: Jake? Jake who?

Me: (
frowning at MK
) Yes, Jake, you know.

MK: (
to AB
) There's no Jake, she was just joyriding.

Still on Chaucer. Reading the
Wife of Bath's Prologue
(translating). Nunney's getting on great with it (chuckling and making observations). I'm less so.

Nunney: We shouldn't assume the narrator's voice is Chaucer's.

Me: Whose is it, then?

N: The character's.

Me: The character doesn't exist.

N: For fuck's sake—suspend your disbelief.

Hope all else is well in the Midlands.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Got stopped by a policeman in the bus lane on Camden Road. It wasn't about driving in the bus lane; it was about not wearing a seat belt. The policeman leaned on the car and rambled on about safety and laws etc.

I thought he might notice my feet (bare) and start going on about the law of wearing shoes when driving. So, to prevent it, I looked him right in the eye so he couldn't look anywhere else. It was strange. He will have thought I was mad, but he didn't see my feet and that was the point. Sometimes you just have to appear mad to prevent a serious consequence.

After some time, the PC asked if I was aware of the seat belt law. I said, “Yes, sorry, I forgot.” And I put my seat belt on, but I kept looking straight at him while I did it and I even said, “Clunk-click, every trip” in Jimmy Savile's voice.

He said he
could
fine me, but he wouldn't on this occasion, as I seemed to have got the message. Then he said, “On you go, Miss,” and patted the car.

Now Sam keeps saying, “Clunk-click, every trip” and “On you go, Miss.” MK wanted to know why Sam kept saying those things and I said we'd had a talk about road safety.

Pippa has switched to black coffee. It's only for show. She used to always have tea two-sugars. But tea isn't cool enough anymore. She only has black coffee, no sugar. I can tell she doesn't like it as much as she used to like tea two-sugars—she gulps it down like a cowboy swallowing whiskey and coughs.

Told MK about Pippa's coffee switch.

MK: Maybe she just wants a change.

Me: No, it's totally for show.

MK: Why is coffee more impressive than tea?

Me: It's more sophisticated and European.

MK: Do you feel you're being left behind?

Me: A bit.

MK: You could switch too?

Me: I can't, not for a year at least; it'd look like I was influenced.

MK: Idiot.

MK doesn't get it. She might get Shakespeare and Chekhov and all their complex characters but she misses things in real life, like people's true motivation for switching drinks.

Trying to drink more water. Friend of MK says you're supposed to drink at least one large glass every two hours. Tea and coffee don't count, nor Perrier, it has to be tap.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Cooked a chicken casserole. Celery, onion and garlic—fried, add chicken thighs, cook a while, and add a tin of mushroom soup (condensed). Cook for 30 mins (low bubble). Sprinkle with parsley.

MK: This is nice—I haven't had rabbit for ages.

Will: (
horrified
) What? Is this rabbit?

Me: No, it's chicken. I never cook rabbit.

Will: It smells like rabbit.

MK: It seems like rabbit.

Sam: I hate rabbit.

Me: It's not rabbit. I'd never cook a rabbit.

Sam: Why not?

Me: I just don't like the idea of it.

Will: Me neither, I'm not eating any more of it.

MK keeps buying Break-Ins (M&S version of Breakaways). S&W don't like them—mild coconut flavor. I don't like that M&S call them Break-Ins, trying to pass them off as real Breakaways. There are 3 packets of 6 in the pantry. Same at 57 (I've seen in their biscuit tin).

In fact, it's about the only thing Mary-Kay and Claire Tomalin have in common, apart from liking books.

Harriet was telling S&W about the foundling hospital near Great Ormond St:

H: It was very sad—people would leave little bundles on the steps.

Will: Bundles of what?

H: Babies. Babies that people couldn't look after.

Sam: I should be left there.

H: Why?

Sam: Because of my Riley-Day (
meaning his illness
).

Will: OK, we'll drop you there later.

H: Oh, you meanie.

Sam says things like that in front of Harriet and so does Will—because they both get the response they're looking for.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Drinking more coffee. I like frothy coffee, but not black.

Mary-Kay likes the coffee (Continental roast) from the coffee man on Delancey Street. I like going there for the smell, but the bloke's overkeen to talk about the coffees and lifts the beans up in his fingers—you have to be careful not to give him the chance. Best to be already in a conversation with someone else when you go in (but not about coffee, or he'll just butt in).

In there waiting in a queue, with Will.

Will: The taste of coffee is disappointing because the smell is so nice.

Me: Don't talk about coffee at the mo.

Will: But we're in a coffee shop.

Me: Sssh, talk about something else.

Will: Why?

Me: Otherwise you'll start the bloke off.

Will: That's harsh, it's all he's got.

The other day I was making mini burgers for S&W when Stephen Frears called in (looking like a tramp). He picked up a raw burger and ate it. I was appalled but acted normal. Told MK later and she said it's a thing (eating raw beef).

Funny that Sam calls Stephen “3-5-9-1-8-1-5.” It's his phone number.

Me: How come you call Stephen by his phone number?

Sam: It's the norm.

Me: It isn't the norm—you don't call me by my number.

Sam: But your number is my number, you fool.

They disliked the all-bran cookies by the way. But liked the flapjacks. Would like to try R Patel's Biriani recipe—can you scribble in next letter?

Love, Nina

PS Have you tried balsamic vinegar of Modena? It's a vinegar, but much nicer than Sarson's or red wine etc. It's dark brown. Looks horrible like medicine, but is nice. Nunney has a mate who drinks it off the spoon.

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Thanks for recipe. I didn't do it exact—too many ingredients. I've not done anything with more than five/six things in it so far. Plus we don't have the right attachments or a pestle. So I did my own version: Cooked chicken, almond flakes, curry powder, and parsley, plus two packs Bachelor's savory rice.

AB: This is tasty.

MK: Do you have to say tasty?

AB: It
is
tasty.

MK: I'm not denying it, but there's no need to say tasty.

Questioned by AB about the ingredients (suspicious?).

AB: Have you put cardamoms in it?

Me: They were optional.

AB: Did you opt for them?

Me: No.

Using fresh herbs these days instead of dried. AB says you have to understand how they work. Which is tricky if you don't know.

MK likes: basil, tarragon, garlic, rosemary.

AB likes: dill, watercress, basil, tarragon, garlic, rosemary, cardamoms.

Here's my herb round-up:

Tarragon: the cookbook says tarragon is “misunderstood.” Not by me. I understand it. It's horrible.

Rosemary: makes things taste like disinfectant.

Thyme: nice, but smells a bit lawny.

Parsley: nice, fresh, not dried.

Mint: the smell of mint leaves in hot water (aka peppermint tea) reminds me of a toilet in a particular café. But chopped up raw, just on things, I like it.

Basil: is nice all mushed up with cheese and garlic and olive oil (pesto). It has to be olive though. Misty did it with Mazola by accident and it wasn't all that nice.

Pippa's friend (beautician) Mel almost poisoned herself by accidentally eating daffodil bulbs, thinking they were shallots. She nearly put them in a cheese and onion sandwich, but began to suspect there was something wrong with them (no onion smell).

MK: How come?

Me: She thought they were shallots.

MK: So, where were they?

Me: In her fridge, in the salad compartment.

MK: Sounds like one of your tricks.

Love, Nina

PS It wasn't me. I've never been to hers.

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Thanks for the cutting. Tried to reminisce about it with MK but she wasn't very interested.

Me: Pears have discontinued the Three Wishes range.

MK: Is that a bad thing?

Me: I used to like the deodorant—the green one.

Sam: If you had three wishes, would one of them be to have the Three Wishes stuff again?

Me: Probably not, I've gone on to Mum roll-on.

Sam: If I had three wishes, I'd wish for a hundred wishes.

Will: You're not allowed to do that, you only get three.

Sam: Says who?

Will: The Genie.

The door buzzer. The thing is, when the doorbell goes it could be anyone (except when it's AB because of his short ring). So the doorbell goes and we buzz people in from the kitchen and wait a moment until they start coming down the stairs and we all look to see them coming into view (feet first). And that's when we know who it is.

Now, after the bloke incident, MK says (quite rightly) we should start speaking on the intercom thing when the doorbell goes and ask who it is.

MK: Can we find out who it is
before
we buzz them in.

Sam: Why?

MK: Because it's the sensible way to do it.

Will: It could be a murderer.

Sam: Or Frank Bough.

Later on, the doorbell went and Sam did the new procedure…of speaking into the machine.

Sam: Hullo, who is it, hullo, who is it? Hullo, hullo.

MK: Let them speak.

Sam: Bloody hell, who is it? Say something then (
buzzes them in
).

MK: Don't just say, “Who is it?” then buzz them in—you need to know who it is
before
you buzz them in (
someone comes in
).

Sam: (
shouting up the stairs
) You can't come in yet. Wait there.

Go out again (
the door closes again
).

Then we all crowded round the intercom thing. And Will shouted “State your name, please” and Sam said “Hullo” lots more times.

But there was no response. Will ran upstairs to find the person who had come in and gone out again, but they'd gone.

Love, Nina

PS I've worked out that Sam and me are a tiny bit nicer if people are round for supper. Mary-Kay and Will are a tiny bit grumpier. Not counting AB in that.

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Mary-Kay has started wearing two shirts at once. I don't know where she's picked it up but it's a thing, apparently. Both shirts have to be very thin and fine, you couldn't do it with hard or thick type shirts. Still, even with silk ones it looks like you've forgotten you've already put your shirt on. Like Mr. B getting dressed twice by accident.

Reading a good book (not on syllabus) that Jez put me on to. It's about a bloke (called Josef K) who gets arrested even though he hasn't done anything and it goes on like that.

MK says she's had to buy three new pairs of little scissors since I came.

MK: I spend my life buying little scissors.

Me: What's that got to do with me?

MK: You lose them, or nick them.

Me: No, you take them up to the sitting room and don't bring them back. They'll be in your desk area.

MK: Feel free to search my desk.

Me: Desk
area.

Went up to the sitting room, and immediately saw two pairs of little scissors in a dish with postcards in it. And two rolls of eye tape.

Me: Look here, two pairs straightaway and eye tape.

MK: You just put them there.

Me: No, I came up here empty-handed.

MK: Empty-pocketed?

Me: I feel like Josef K.

MK:
Very
good.

She hardly ever says
very.

Ran out of milk. Had to nip out to Top Food & Wine late. Saw Rik Mayall in there buying Dairylea and Jacob's Cream Crackers. I said hello, he said hello. I've met him a couple of times (to do with Stephen) and once when him and Adrian Edmondson came to visit Sam at Great Ormond Street (and they were very funny and nice) but Rik didn't know who I was in the Top Food & Wine context.

I had no shoes on.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Yesterday the fridge started humming. It took me a while to work out where the noise was coming from. I thought it was Will. Will thought it was Sam. Sam thought it was me.

MK: What's that noise?

Me: It's the fridge.

MK: Why's it doing that?

Me: I don't know, maybe it means it's broken.

MK: Does it?

Me: I don't know. Elspeth's used to do that and she'd slap it with her palm really hard.

MK: Have you tried that?

Me: No, it never worked—Elspeth just kept slapping hers out of habit.

(
MK kicks the fridge. It stops humming.
)

MK: (
pleased
) There you go.

Pippa has been dogsitting Ted Hughes again (two weeks while grandma on Nile cruise). He's gone back now and Pippa is missing him. He didn't bark once the whole time she had him. She's actually never heard him bark. She puts it down to the dehydration during his racing years.

Ted Hughes's racing name was the Dingo but Pippa's grandma changed it to Ted when she got him from the trust (because of the connotations).

Me: Is she a fan of Ted Hughes's poetry?

Pippa: No, I added the “Hughes” on myself.

That is bloody typical of Pippa, trying to impress people saying it was Ted Hughes when it was just plain Ted. Like having black coffee when she doesn't like it and smoking all the time (but not inhaling). I couldn't be like that. I couldn't say a dog was called Ted Hughes when it was just called Ted.

Mary-Kay liked that Pippa had added Hughes herself. Saying it made life more interesting.

That sums writer types up. They're not bothered what happens in the world, they're never bothered or angry about stuff (like normal people), they're pleased when things happen and interested and then they write about it. One way or another.

I couldn't be like that either. I couldn't enjoy that someone said a dog was called Ted Hughes. I wouldn't be interested, I'd be annoyed. I'm not interested. I am annoyed.

Anyway Pippa is missing Ted and might get a kitten, but not sure because it would put a stop to dogsitting Ted in future (Ted doesn't like cats or kittens). Even so, she's seriously considering getting a kitten. I pointed out that landlords don't always agree to kittens and she said, “Landlords don't always have to know about kittens.” She means you can hide the fact that you've got a kitten.

Tonight, at supper, the fridge started up its humming again. MK got up and kicked it again. It stopped for a bit but started up again later. AB said he didn't mind the humming (they all make some noise, they are a piece of machinery after all), but he didn't like MK kicking it. He hates aggression.

AB: Oh, don't do that.

MK: I don't like the hum.

AB: Kick it when I've gone. It's not doing it any good.

MK: It stops it.

(
Fridge starts humming again.
)

AB: Look, it's humming again already. (
Has a look inside the fridge.
) You've stuff freezing at the back here, look at all this frozen…(
holds up bag of frozen watercress
). You've got it on very low (
temperaturewise
).

MK: Oh, is that why it's humming?

AB: I expect so; it's trying to be a freezer.

(
AB adjusted it to a normal setting and it stopped humming straightaway.
)

Will: I'm going to miss that mellow hum.

MK: I'm going to miss kicking it.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Great day.

Had my interview at Thames Polytechnic with a tutor called John Williams.

I slipped in about Hardy making me feel insignificant early on which turned out to be unnecessary because we had a proper chat. I said I was beginning to worry about actually passing the A level (because of not loving the syllabus and never doing exams before).

JW said it's not all about the grade but about
you
(me), and some of the best students ever come from non-traditional backgrounds. They get all sorts of losers there by the sound of it. Mature students etc. He asked what I'd read that I
had
liked and why etc. Mentioned the best stuff I could think of including my FBOAT (favorite book of all time),
My Side of the Mountain
by Jean George. He'd not heard of it. But overall, he made me really want to go to Thames Poly (just by being jolly and encouraging).

Had a good look around the campus and it seems OK. Apart from a row of polystyrene cups with fag burn holes in them in the refectory, it had a good feeling. Big library. It's across the square from the station and there's a market down the road.

Later, did your veggie chili but didn't put much chili in it. Pippa was staying and it makes her nervous in the night. But put a tin of those red beans in and served it on rice, so it looked the business.

Stephen's girlfriend Annie is a brilliant famous artist called Annie Rothenstein and has done a painting for MK, which MK likes. Nice shapes and colors. The sort of thing you could do yourself if you had the equipment.

Saw a second-hand easel in War on Want. Thought I might get it for S&W and mentioned it to MK.

Me: Do you think they'd like an easel?

MK: No.

Me: I thought they might want to do paintings.

MK: They haven't so far.

Me: Maybe if they had an easel.

MK: You think maybe it'll unleash something?

Back to Thames Poly interview: have almost decided on Thames Polytechnic (if I get to choose). The only thing is, it's a long way from NW1, which is a drawback. Don't want to live over there. I'd miss NW1 etc. and there's Sam's eye to think of—MK thinks it's OK when it's not and it's not OK when it is. Even Mr. Mackie says I'm the eye expert and he actually is (the eye expert).

I'd have to commute all that way. But that would be OK. I can dodge the fares on that line easily. Pink tickets. And I can read loads on the train.

Thanks for cuttings. Best was “Five Ways with Cabbage.” I am getting to be an OK cook. They like strong flavors/herbs. MK not fussy (about food). Will likes burgery things (but not turkey) and complex sandwiches. Sam likes mushy things. Keep sending.

See you soon.

Love, Nina

PS I get a mandatory grant from Leicester County Council.