Decades ago Aunt Ethel was housekeeper/companion to an old
lady living in a very large house full of delectable old things - massive
trumpets mounted on the walls down to the kitchens below stairs, and so on. The
house was in a classy area of Southsea and my mother and I were frequent
visitors. When the old lady died, she directed that I as a favoured child
should be allowed to choose one of her possessions to keep. Precocious little 10
or 11 old brat that I probably was, I took away a lady’s regency bureau in
satinwood with nice bracket feet and brass serpent shaped handles. Its little
drawers and compartments – and their stationery contents - fascinated me. Set
up in my bedroom at Woodfalls it became my work station for the next ten years
or so.
When Cherry and I married it came with me of course, but
with the arrival of large desktop computers, I abandoned it for a large repro
flat-top desk and Cherry took it over for her to do correspondence, the
accounts and so on. Over the years she imbued it with her personality. The way things were before I started rooting through them showed all sorts of things about her. Like me, she always had more things to do than time to do them in. There were drawers of folders of bank statements belatedly checked off against receipts, art exhibitions and holiday memorabilia only sorted and catalogued some time after the event, collections of unused greetings cards stored for the next Christmas, birthday and other such future occasions, stationery and stamps for her voluminous correspondence, files for travel insurance and so on and so forth. There was also family photos, plenty of evidence of her boundless liking for pretty pens, unused notebooks waiting to be filled and of course dragons everywhere. Her handbag, chair and fleece were still in place.
I found the task of partially re-arranging things in the bureau now that she’s gone upsetting. It was as though by interfering with its contents I was gratuitously diminishing Cherry's continuing presence. It was, after all, her hand that had last put those papers there and when I shifted them that was no longer true. Somewhere, deep down, I still think she'll be back one day from a long trip away, eyes brimming with untold adventure. It's as though moving things makes that less likely. I know that's ridiculous and I'm sure that her presence through the memories she created in me and other people will prove less fragile and much more durable than this. It helps that nearby there's now a photo of Cherry with a challenging, even sardonic look in her eye as though she's telling me to stop wallowing and get on with it for God's sake - as I'm sure, in person, she would have done ! So I did. Although it was a compromise. I left intact what I reasonably could and plan to bring in more of her stuff from elsewhere in due course. .
With that in mind, this week, the second of 2018, saw me return to College for the first time. I was a bit concerned about how people might react not knowing what to say in such circumstances. Of course, since its over 10 years since I worked there full-time, there have been a lot of staff changes and many new people wouldn't know me from Adam. In the shared office I occupy, this was certainly the case with Lesley a young lady from the RAND Corporation in Santa Monica doing a PhD on civil-military relations. She had only joined two days before and was obviously bewildered at her surroundings and glad of the company. We chatted, I got the IT people to wake-up my dormant desktop, reviewed hundreds of e-mails (mostly but not all of little interest) collected armfuls of post from the central office and did some photo-copying and printing. Deborah, a colleague bought me a Costa in the Fieldhouse and with considerable relief expanded my role in a Conference in London next week. She'd been at Cherry's thanksgiving service there so there was no difficulty there. Nor was there in the Library where I renewed acquaintance with a retired Major-General who I knew years ago. Decorated for gallantry in the Falklands, and extremely bright, he's just written a very well received but critical account of the 1940 Norway campaign. We had a very nice natter about future plans and so forth. I said at the moment I was maintaining and reviewing options - which is true enough.
Thereafter, relieved and pleased, to Faringdon for lunch with Peter and Katie, being able to squeeze the car into a space outside their house with about a foot before and behind which delighted as much as it surprised me. Again much very enjoyable chattering and exchanging of information, shared reminiscence and, where appropriate, symptoms since we are both dealing with the consequences of prostate cancer. It was all thoroughly enjoyable. Finally I indulged myself on the way home with a walk around the stones in an otherwise nearly deserted Avebury, enjoying the fact that since Christopher had somehow managed to transfer Cherry's National Trust life membership into my name I could add another £4 to the amount he's saved me ! And so home to cat and, eventually, fire.
Last weekend was my very first birthday on my own, but fortunately I had 8 other people sharing in it since the whole family came down to help celebrate with me. We had birthday dinner, breakfast and lunch, the first at a very nice restaurant in Devizes. We did the Romans and pre-Romans at the local museum also looking at an array of US propaganda posters from the First World War - including the one that said 'Gee, I wish I was a man. Then I could join the US Navy !' The following day we walked the length of the famous Caen flight of locks on the Kennet and Avon canal. At the end a most welcome coffee break at the Wharf tea room. As a bonus Christopher 'shot' a Kingfisher !
Apart from being very nice in itself the weekend really brought home to me the difference having a supportive family makes to people in my situation. I feel really sorry for those who don't.
