SEXISM REIGNS
Monday, 9 Sept
Ma drove Chump and me to London. Several foul men gave me sexy grins from their cars (some of them weren’t even young).
We had a successful shopping day. I got a dark plum French-style skirt with one pleat from Fifth Avenue, a white ribbed soft wool top from Miss Selfridge, and a pale chiffon blouse in Fenwicks. Russell & Bromley didn’t have the sort of shoes I was looking for (but if they had, I would have been set back 7 guineas).
We got home in time for coaching at 4. Mr Palmer greeted me with a funny look and said, “hey, I haven’t seen you with your hair loose before - it looks smashing.” Later he turned to Chump and said, “doesn’t your sister look pretty”. After that he said, “don’t hold your racket like it was your boyfriend… but you are a very attractive young lady.” Anyway, we also got some tennis done.
Half a century on, this memory elicited a few reactions.
“Mr Palmer sounds creepy…”
“He should have been reported…”
“Should have told Mummy, he needed a good slap.”
And this.
“In 1968 my boarding house matron, aged all of 23, invited 6th form boys into her sitting room in the evenings whilst wearing a gauzy "baby-doll" nightie and fluffy slippers. The boys came and went after dark. She had relationships with quite a few, several were not even 18. I often wonder about her still, but to be honest, those she seduced seemed then to see it as a badge of honour. Now they recognise it was appalling behaviour.”
This is how it was.
I turned up my plum skirt 1”, tried all my clothes on, and I’m thrilled - for the first time in my life I look French. It’s the smart skirt with shoulder-bag and blouse-under-jumper-with-collar-and-cuffs that does it.
I rang up Anya and we had a half hour chat commiserating about Johannes and Charles-Edouard. “Ingrid, you do not know what an anti-climax and absolute let-down it is to see Malcolm again,” she said. In that case, why did she go to Rye with him? We are the most similar types and our Diaries help keep the dramas going.
The earthquakes in Persia have been some of the worst in history.
Tuesday, 10 Sept
First day of the Upper Sixth, and our form room is the Coffee Bar. Some of the Lower Sixth have dressed up ridiculously, wearing patent shoes and bags. Lovely seeing Tig, Anya and Pam again, though Anya can speak only of Johannes (but I don’t really mind: it means I can speak of Charles-Edouard). Johannes is 38, but she says he looks 25. I wouldn’t go out with anyone over 23.
Wore pink dress, which I looked fat in, and cardy. Had a deadly drive down to Chichester and it poured as we got out of the car. At 6 The Skin of Our Teeth began. Oh dear I’m sure it’s brilliant as it’s won an important literary prize, but we didn’t like it. I found it gawky, bitty and incomplete, with so many side tracks off the main theme you didn’t know which to follow. What I hated was the way they kept stopping the story so the director and camera-man kept appearing saying things like “cut”, and “lights, Ken”. Millicent Martin was was excellent, which was fortunate because nobody else was.
Wednesday, 11 Sept
For English we were told those who go to V.10 have Mrs Huggett and those to V.12, Mr Sing. There was a mad rush to V.10.
Mrs Greenfield has broken her pelvis in a ghastly car accident and the French department is in chaos. In Prep I tried to read, but Diane and Sarah were talking so loud I couldn’t. They go to lots of parties and Sarah has Steve. How lovely to be in a temporary married state.
Ma fetched me because of tennis. Chump and me had to knock up for quarter of an hour while he had his tea. We did serves and he seemed pleased with mine. Then suddenly he said, “you looked very charming sitting with your father by the court on Monday, but you suddenly went away.”
Does he expect me to attend Ma and Pa’s coaching lessons too??
Changed into plum skirt - it’s fabulous. Smudged green liner on my lids (just a little) and put on mascara (I wish it wouldn’t smudge). At 7 all the Bensteds came. Ma asked them because Mrs B is away and their household is rather chaotic. We had stew and potatoes with spinach and beans from the garden, and two fruit tarts. We played Cluedo. It lasted about 15 minutes because of the cheating - John turned over Peter’s cards with his foot, displaying them to everyone!
Thursday, 12 Sept
Dreamt about C-E last night. He was locked up in a tiny university room studying for exams.
At dinner break Anya and me walked down to town to get shoes. We made immediately for Elliotts. Saw three super heavy type ones, so in we went. But none in size 7 (hate my feet). In the end, by chance, I saw the lady serving this pair of crocodile shoes in dark maroon. Beautiful quality and only £4.
In Music Diane asked if we could study jazz instead of chamber music. Mrs Lester said there’s musical theory to learn before you can appreciate jazz. For Art Appreciation we’ve got Birdy and it was interesting. He said because abstract impressions are of greater importance than realistic ones, the 20th century has seen the hugest change ever in the history of art.
Grandma and Grandpa fetched us from school. Ma thought Grandma was in a good mood but I thought she was awful. They’re going on a trip to Wales which Grandpa is looking forward to. Grandma says, “to tell you the truth, I don’t want to visit any of those places.” I could cry for Grandpa - it’s cruel.
Friday, 13 Sept
Anya and me had an amusing conversation about make-up. We’ve got this thing about how ridiculous it all is and how at the end of the day you have to take it off. I hope Sue Padgett didn’t hear. She wears masses.
Pam said they didn’t enjoy Torquay so much this year as the the Imperial Hotel is full of nouveau riche. I know just what she means. They can’t help it but they don’t have any standards.
Torquay ten years before. I couldn’t resist
My first mention of the nouveau riche. (Though not my last.) No doubt The Imperial was grand in its day. But the English Riviera was never chic. Apparently Basil Faulty was based on the “most marvellously rude” manager of Torquay’s ‘Gleneagles’, described as upmarket for having bathrooms in every room. Sadly the Gleneagles was demolished in 2015. Happily, the Imperial lives on.
Ghastly news: Kodak have wrecked my film, so no Charles-Ed after all. Couldn’t work after that. In the evening Pa, Chump and me went to Epsom to see ‘Camelot’. It was a Hollywood musical with corny sets like snowy woods so we left half way through. Pa told us when he was seven he had a great disappointment about seeing Robinson Crusoe. It was a pantomime with a girl playing Robinson Crusoe and he sulked all the way home!
Saturday, 14 Sept
Stinking weather so didn’t go to the boat. I stayed in bed till 11.30 thinking about C-E. I’d like to know if I’m capable of enjoying a kiss. If I’m capable of kissing, even.
Read several chapters of ‘To the Lighthouse’. So far I think it’s brilliant and different from anything I’ve read. Writing about Lily and Mr Banks - “they both smiled standing there. They both felt a common hilarity, excited by the morning waves.” If only I had command over words like V Woolf has! It was exactly that that C-Ed and me felt on August 31st after clambering down the rocks in the dark. Had gorgeous artichokes at lunch.
At 3 we left for London - the Tate Gallery. Saw Henry Moore exhibition. ‘The Warrior’ in green bronze is marvellous, I loved it and so did Ma. But Pa and Chump were scathing. Both of them are too impatient. It’s all very well saying that it’s enough relying just on your visual sense, but it isn’t. Art is like music - the appeal isn’t immediate. There were lots of arty people there. Saw a mother taking her little boys around (marvellous) and some ghastly types with snobby voices raving over things so everyone could hear.
We had supper at the Swiss Centre as it was too late for tea. I had melon cocktail, the most staggering scallops in a creamy dill sauce, and cheesecake. Just as we were leaving, this chap sitting at the bar said, “Excuse me, haven’t I seen you at Lausanne?” It sounded so ludicrous I burst out laughing. Driving back down the King’s Road we saw the Chelsea Drugstore and went in. It’s a sort of hotted-up Carnaby Street place, and I don’t like the people at all.
Had a headache because of this ghastly twitch at the back of my head.
The Chelsea Drug store opened two months before my visit. A melee of bars and boutiques, it was based on Le Drugstore in Paris. One attraction that passed me by though were the Drugstore girls in purple catsuits on motorcycles: the ‘flying squad’ delivery service.
Sunday, 15 September
Woke to an absolute downpour - the worst flooding for 15 years. Dr Dick had to move all her furniture upstairs! Everybody went round to help, but I couldn’t reach her house as there was a foot of water outside. I went back via the Williamsons and had to wade up to my knees, while Mr Williamson shouted at me for entering his garden, the stupid old bag.
I read all the Observer critics today and I find them too intellectual. There was one good article about how they’re trying to integrate art with industry but even there I was lost. Daddy says critics speak a lot of waffle half the time (though I’m not sure they do). Then I looked at ‘Which University’ and decided I want to do French and Drama (provided it’s not double the work). I also looked at Vogue: foul fashions and foul make-up. The only famous person I know who doesn’t wear make-up is Michelle of the Mamas & Papas.
The Mamas & Papas: Denny Doherty, Cass Elliot, Michelle Phillips, and John Phillips
At the back of my head and neck I’ve got a dull pain. I keep thinking it’s a brain haemorrhage, and there’s an ache in my glands. I’ve taken an aspirin and Mummy has massaged me twice.
We saw a very good Omnibus on Delius the composer. He was paralysed and blind and impossible to live with. I felt sorry for his wife who was arty and sweet. Now I wish I’d discussed films and things with Charles-Edouard. I must have given him an unintellectual impression.
On reading these entries to Dirk (my husband) he said, “I feel so sorry for you - riddled with angst! How have you survived?”
