Monday, 21 October 2013

21st October 1933 - Terrick to Mary

Hotel Brice
44, Rue du Maréchal-Joffre

21st October 1933

Dear Mary Pleasant,

As every post time goes by and no cancellation of my recall arrives I get quietly happier and happier.  I have been very restless at the thought that it will be put off again but now I am sitting humming loudly, like a cat purring.  This letter is nearly in poetry, to go with the time I have in my head.

I am so glad my letter bucked you up.  I wish I had been on hand to receive the hug.  Even though I knew it was only loneliness that caused it -, it would have suited me because it has been dashed lonely down here and a hug is what the doctor would order me.

When I ran into Marina on Sunday I nearly bust with pleasure.  She is an old flame of mine, a Russian refugee, and very sensible to talk to.  I didn't feel like hugging her but I took her out to Monte Carlo and spent nearly a week's wages on her.  By playing with my money she did what I can never manage for myself - I have giving up trying - won me some money at Roulette.

How are the various studies going?  What fifth form are in you for French?  Are you learning at the school as well as teaching?

The "Experience" tip was specially put in for you.

I got just the same impression of the London students as you, when I went to a sort of concert affair at King's once.  Steel spectacles is absolutely the key-note.

"For Sinners Only" certainly is 'vulgar propaganda'.  I told you the style was terrible journalese.  It may be that it was only because I was in the mood that I put up with the manner and absorbed the matter.

I admit I had suspected Mervyn Spragge, but, as in a detective story, one can only suspect the people who are mentioned, and I couldn't find any other possible one named.

I don't see anything so terrible in your third case.

The fellow I should like to kick in the pants is the one who wanted "to finish off his day well" that way.  If that is all he wants he ought to pick someone more appropriate.

Still, my sense of humour informs me that lots of reverent swains, if they only knew of me, would be thinking exactly the same about me.  So I let him off, if ever I see him.

After I had posted that letter to you I thought it rather cheek of me to have asked you about the above, and if I could have got it back, I would have cut it out.

I don't suppose your mother would have a fit if she knew.  She must have been the same.  On holiday it comes so much more naturally, doesn't it.

I should love to see you as Mrs Malaprop.  Sometimes, you know, you are a bit that way yourself.

Have you changed much to look at?  I am longing to see you give one of your "reminiscent" smiles again, when you are amused at something you are thinking of saying.

Look, if you have your lectures before your supper couldn't you have supper with me at a good fuggy Lyons and I will take you to Waterloo - by the longest way there is.  I don't care if I do forget everything I have to say.  There have been plenty of mere words between us these eight months; it is seeing you that is going to be so stupendous.

Let me know somehow, send a message to await me at Haverstock Hill, where and when I can see you that evening.  I would ring you up but I don't know where you are just after six on Wednesdays.

The card I sent you yesterday was from an island called St. Honorat off Cannes.  We had great fun there picnicking just where the card sh0wed and later scrambling over rocks and paddling and going over the old castles and (men only) over the monastery.  Then we went to the island of Ste. Marguerite where the Man in the Iron Mask was imprisoned when he tried to escape from the Bastille.

tonight I have no clients left.  One arrives tomorrow.  But as he is at a different hotel, I am moving there too.  I shall be at the Pension Cavallero - but then you won't have time to write.  I shall come back here to pick up letters.

This evening I have been invited to go to the Casino Municipal with a most absurd fellow who is staying at the hotel.  His father runs a little tourist bureau in Putney, and he has come down here "to find out what's what". He has travelled "extensively" - to two places in Belgium; and he told my last lot of clients that he was going to pump me for useful information about the way the Poly did business.  He drinks no wine "except really fruity port" and doesn't like Belgium "because the morals are so lax".  I am going to try and have some fun with him tonight.  It is a pity I haven't got more cash on me, to make his hair really stand on end.  Nice is the place to make people sit up and blink.

The post goes in five minutes or I'd write pages more.

I am living for Wednesday evening.

Till then
  Lots of Love


(written up the side of the page) I don't believe you have got ugly, fat and spotty, but don't care if you are the ugliest, fattest, spottiest thing in London.  You are quite right about platonic friendships.

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