Love, Nina (9 page)

AB: (
checking the inner tube
) There's nothing wrong with the inner tube.

Me: So is it the tire itself?

AB: No, it's just that someone's let it down.

Then at supper we all tried to guess who (if anyone) might have let MK's tires down.

Sam: Arthur Scargill.

AB: He wouldn't.

MK: There's only one person I can think of.

Me: Who?

MK: You!

Me: Me?

Sam: Yeah, Stibbe.

Me: Why would I?

Will: For a laugh.

Me: Hang on, it was me who went to Chamberlaine's to get a puncture-repair kit and booked Bennett to come and repair it and delayed the stir-fry while he Swarfega'd his oily hands and so on and so on.

AB: The remedying of chaos, a classic psychopathic trait.

Anyway, it's fixed and we're all happy and Mary Hope popped in just in time to see us all admiring the sugar lumps again.

Love, Nina

PS I might get you a box of the nice sugar lumps. Lovely box.

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Sam is much better, thank God. Last week he couldn't even listen to the cricket (had to keep 100% calm) and had both eyes taped. Poor Sam, it was horrible.

Jez came over and read him a few chapters of Enid Blyton (he calls her
Enoch
Blyton) while his washing went through. I had to read the same chapters all over again after he'd gone because he changed the story. (“I can't allow you to go to Kirrin Island today, you see children there's bad news I'm afraid, Timmy has passed away, he fell into the hands of smugglers and they spoke in their rough common voices to him and he simply died of shock”—and so on.)

I tried reading him a bit of Thomas Hardy (killing two birds).

Me: Shall I read you a bit of the thing I'm reading?

Sam: What's it called?

Me:
Return of the Native.

Sam: Is it by Enid Blyton?

Me: Yes.

Sam: All right, then.

It didn't work because neither of us knew what was going on and reading it aloud only made it worse.

Sam: What's happening?

Me: I think they're doing a play.

Sam: Who is?

Me: I don't know.

Sam: Can we go back to the Barney Mysteries?

Sam loves having visits from Neve, Nunney or Jez. But best of all Karel Reisz, who just arrives and things are immediately better for everyone and he doesn't even want a cup of tea.

This afternoon Karel came over and asked Sam what his news was. To my annoyance, Sam told Karel about the turkey burgers (how they all hated them). It's annoying because MK keeps buying turkey mince and what the fuck else can I do with it? I told Karel that it wasn't me (it was MK) buying the stuff. I don't want him thinking I go round buying things they hate and forcing them to eat turkey burgers against their will. Karel said it sounded as though I was doing a great job (with the mince, and in general). And he meant it.

Later I mentioned it to MK.

Me: Can you stop getting the turkey mince?

MK: What's wrong with it?

Me: I can't make anything nice with it.

MK: It's versatile—simply use it in place of beef.

Me: You've memorized the pack.

MK: Yes, giving advice on use.

Anyway, green tagliatelle and Edam cheese tonight. AB disappointed. He was expecting a stir-fry (with turkey).

Went to British Museum with Nunney. The best thing is the building itself. Some significant things in there (mummies, genuine Roman statues etc.) and some insignificant things that are just very, very old. i.e. Egyptian toothpick. The displays are a bit overwhelming and not actually as interesting as MK's kitchen dresser.

Re chewing gum: Try Wrigley's Juicy Fruit (yellow pack). Keeps flavor more and doesn't interfere with other things. But beware, it makes you feel hungry (due to stomach expecting something) and you might turn to biscuits.

Love, Nina

PS Chaucer. Have you ever read it? Fuck. It's a whole other language and meant to be hilarious, but it's grim and annoying.

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Everyone keeps saying how great yoga is and that we should all go and learn to relax and let go of things that are thwarting us in life (i.e. turkey mince) and breathe properly and stretch and so on.

I haven't been overly keen up to now.

Me: Do you ever do yoga?

MK: No, but I hear it's very good.

Me: So why don't you go?

MK: I expect I shall at some point.

Me: Me too.

Pippa says she has changed beyond all recognition relaxation and stresswise since she started yoga classes. She said she drove to yoga in Haringey and afterward couldn't drive home—too relaxed—and had to sit in the car and listen to
The Archers.
Now every time she hears the
Archers
theme tune, she returns to that deep-relaxed state. Like Sam hearing the word “Rome,” only the opposite.

I'll think about going (to yoga). But I'm not sure I want to be that relaxed. I am who I am and I might not do so well as a relaxed person.

Drove Sam's friend Ras home. Took him to the door and saw a paper note Sellotaped to the stained-glass porch door: “This beautiful stained-glass is very old & fragile, please close doors gently.”

Both Sam and me admitted that the note made us want to slam the door very hard. Sam said he felt horrible for thinking that. I didn't. I think it's normal to think like that and that's why I'd never write a note like that. You're asking for trouble. Like when people write “Handle with care,” what do they think people are going to do? Handle with care?

Talking of notes: have you noticed I've started writing in green pen? Apparently it's more authoritative than blue, but in a nicer way than black. MK writes in different colors. I used to think her notes in red were mardy, but they just seemed that way due to being in red. Which just goes to show the power of the color. Will writes in capitals a lot and it seems as though he's shouting. Although Sam writes big and seems like he's shouting too.

I notice that people often write my name without a capital at the start. It shows because of capital N being so strong compared with little n. I sometimes worry about what that might mean.

Hope all's well with you.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Decided to try the yoga after all. Partly because Nunney thinks it would be good for me and partly because of wanting to slam the Whittakers' antique stained-glass porch doors. Which I even dreamt about doing.

Me: I dreamt about slamming that glass door in the Whittakers' porch.

Sam: Oh God!

Yoga was OK except the woman running it made it as embarrassing as possible—flamingo pools and greeting the sun etc.—but the worst bit was at the end when we had to wind down (on the floor) with harp music (apparently the harp being played by the breeze, not by a human hand). The yoga woman said, “Feel every part of your body, one part at a time, tense…and relax,” and then she listed all the body parts. Tense…and relax. “Tense…and relax your toes…your ankles…your calves…(blah blah).”

And then she said “your genitals,” which I thought was unnecessary (though inevitable given the rest of the hour).

I wasn't planning to bring up the yoga at supper (knowing where it would lead), but MK had remembered I'd gone and was very interested to hear all about it (you never know what's going to interest her) and of course I said about the tensing and relaxing of body parts.

Me: Then she said “your genitals.”

MK: Well, I suppose if she'd mentioned everything else…

Me: She could've just said “every part of your body” and left it at that.

MK: Yes, but once she'd started the list…

Me: I would've skipped over it.

AB: Then it would've been an elephant in the room.

Will: What would?

To move us along from the genitals, AB said he'd seen some impressive sheepdog trials on a footpath walk through the dales and Sam said “Come by” a few times at funny points. Then we had a debate about bath towels. They come out of the dryer all fluffy and soft, but are less absorbent than if they dry on the rack thing and end up hardish. MK and Will like them soft, but Sam and me like the less fluffy result.

Me: The fluffy ones don't do the job as well as the hard ones.

MK: What job?

Me: Drying.

MK: Their job is to be fluffy.

Me: No, their job is to quickly absorb water.

MK: The yoga hasn't helped, then.

Love, Nina

PS I still think they should have a washing line outside.

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Still reading
Return of the Native
by Thomas Hardy. It's long and it's not like reading
The Thorn Birds
where you just rattle through and no one's going to ask you any awkward questions. Reading like this (for A level) you have to read thoroughly and get right into the world of the story you're reading.

Nunney keeps saying stuff like, “When Hardy tells us Eustacia has raven hair and she comes from Budmouth, he's telling us that she is a sensual woman and sexually active.” Funny to think that without knowing the literary code you might miss those important messages. And funny to think what you might be saying without meaning to (if you wrote a book). Explaining this to Will made me think he might be some help later (studyingwise).

Me: You have to understand the world that the story exists in.

Will: You mean the context.

Me: Sort of.

Will: No, it is the context.

Me: Have you heard of Seamus Heaney?

Love, Nina

PS Nunney's time is up volunteering at the Tomalins.' I think he's sad but not showing it.

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Nunney's time volunteering at the Tomalins' is up. He's grown to like them, especially Tom. The new helper (Nunney's replacement) arrived at 57 yesterday.

Me: What's he like?

Nunney: He won't be here long.

Me: Why?

N: He's on drugs.

It rang true. We'd seen him earlier being shown the ropes. Shirt unbuttoned to the waist, chunky belt. Yawning and disinterested. Like a grotty Jim Morrison.

Anyway, this morning, he's
gone
. Nunney had to drive him home late last night.

MK: So Nunney drove him out of town?

Me: Yep.

MK: What was so bad about him, apart from the chunky belt?

Me: He was a druggie.

MK: Ooh—a druggie.

Me: So Nunney'll be at 57 for a bit longer.

MK: Yippee!

Went to play cricket/football in Regent's Park. S&W joined in an already-going game and Will scored a goal after about five seconds. Sam came off the pitch mardy.

Me: What's up?

Sam: Will
had
to score, didn't he?

Me: Be pleased for him.

Sam: He's such a show-off.

Me: Well, you go and score, then you can show off.

Sam went back on the pitch and straightaway the ball deflected off his leg and went in.

Walking home, reliving their goals:

Will: Look at that cloud in the shape of the World Cup.

Sam: You're always showing off, Will.

Me: He's just looking at the sky.

Sam: Anyone can do that.

All the way home Sam looked for a better cloud than Will's. When we got home, he'd trodden in dog shit.

Sam and me went to 57 and (to celebrate Nunney staying on) put some little plastic soldiers into the salad Claire had prepared for supper (lamb's lettuce). Was amazed to see a pie, also prepared by Claire for supper, had the cooking instructions piped onto the top
in mashed potato
(gas mark 4 for 30 mins). Imagine being such a good and thoughtful cook that you can do that. I might have a go on my next shepherd's pie. Only problem being that the cooking instructions would be to myself. Still, it would impress S&W and MK.

Nunney came round after supper.

N: Thanks for the soldiers in the salad.

Me: It was our way of saying we're glad you're staying.

N: Well, thanks.

Love, Nina

PS Nunney being next door-but-one is better than him not being…syllabuswise and every other thing-wise.

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Will's started saying “son of a bitch.” Now Sam's picked it up. Will loves swear words and picks up imaginative stuff from school. Sam's always a bit behind.

Sam: What does sonofabitch actually mean?

Will: Son of a bitch.

Sam: Is it bad?

MK: Bad to be one, or to say it?

Sam: Either.

Will: Both.

MK: Well, better to say it than be one, I guess.

Sam: What actually is one?

Will: A total bastard.

AB: But, Sam, it's not a very nice thing to say.

Sam: Who asked you, you sonofabitch?

MK has asked if I would like to go to Switzerland with them for New Year. I said yes.

Me: Will I like it?

MK: I can't promise it'll be the most fun you've ever
had.

Me: Why?

MK: You should never promise things like that.

Me: Will I like it though?

MK: I expect it'll be OK.

Me: What will I do?

MK: What you always do—only in Switzerland.

We'll have to take the train because Sam doesn't fly due to an oxygen thing. So a long journey (good for the syllabus).

Went for an early Christmas gathering at Pippa's. She had Xmas music going (pop and classical) and her friend Mel (trainee-beautician) doing mini facials and manicures etc. on a trestle table (bargain prices). Pippa herself didn't have a treatment.