It Was The Night Before

Dear Eunice
Just started this letter to you. But I am so tired, I'll write more tomorrow, and I'll keep it piecemeal with headings of when I wrote it. We old friends need to stick together. I can only seem to write in short bursts these days. It's getting more difficult to shuffle the days and nights.


Afternoon
You know what it’s like, Eunice. This is the first time I've had the energy to continue this letter. Whenever the family comes home, I get no time even for the natural bodily processes, well, almost! Alan always arrives first. He came on the overnight coach, clutching a potted plant - sometimes I think he must be shy, hiding behind the biggest bloom he can buy. I soon packed him up to his old room to get ready for dinner while, with nose duly pegged, I drop a whole term of his dirty washing into the twin tub. I don’t resent doing it really - I know how hard students have to study. I feel better than the night before, but not up to writing much more at the moment.


Evening
Harry and Peter are late. Christina’s come, of course, bringing me a bumper box of Black Magic, I can’t tell her, can I, that I’ve been off chocolates for these last two years, because I suspected a link-up between chocolates and migraines. You can understand, can’t you, Eunice, you of all people. You have to steer clear of so much with all your allergies, I must break off now, as I can hear the sound of Harry’s Citroen coming up the drive, I expect Peter’s with him.


Morning
A better sleep than the night before. Alan’s potted plant looks so pretty in the middle of the dining-table. I’ve cooked a hearty breakfast - I know how Harry likes mounds of fried bread when he’s here at home. Alan will be a bit annoyed when he discovers I’ve no mushrooms. Went clean out of my head yesterday. Christina still avoids cooked stuff for breakfast, but there’s plenty of fruit juice and cereal for her. It’s a pity, though, her feeling a bit off colour this Morning. I’m a bit worried that Peter’s late. Harry says he wasn’t waiting outside Clapham South tube station at the appointed time to be picked up in the Citroen. I must say Harry could have waited around a bit - something about the parking being bad in that area though. Alan came down late for breakfast of course. if you’d had a son of your own, Eunice, you’d understand. Despite the lack of mushrooms, it was good to see him tuck into a plateful of eggs just done to the turn.

Afternoon
Christina’s in the garden, sun-bathing. She says Easter’s a bit early this year, I told her, she’ll only catch a chill, I must say, though, I love her wide-brimmed hat. Her Basil bought it for her in Toledo. But Basil’s persona non grata these days. Pity, I liked him - ever a good card at whist. He was fond of me, too, always untwirling my apron strings when I’m in the middle of something dangerous in the kitchen. Laugh? I nearly died! Harry and Alan (who, I may have told you, never got on together as little boys) have gone off in the Citroen. Peter’s still not arrived! He could have tried to give me a ring. All the telephone boxes must have been vandalised by those lager louts, I shouldn’t wonder. I don’t like using phones. And all those other electronic things they talk about on 'Tomorrow's World' are still very much in the bright future, I guess. I prefer the old-fashioned things from the night before last, if you see what I mean (smiling).

Evening
Raining pretty hard now. Christina stayed out in the garden till the very last moment. She hasn’t told me yet how her little florist business is going these days, I expect she’ll get round to it. The Citroen’s not back yet - they said they might be late for dinner, Something about finishing up visiting you, Eunice, of all people, They’re probably with you now. I hope they’re not too much of a nuisance. They always called you Auntie, I know, but they shouldn’t have visited you unannounced like that.


Bedtime
I’m not tired at all. Not like the night before. Though it is time I made the Horlicks. Nice of you to ring, Eunice, with the news that Harry and Alan are staying over with you. I know you said it’s no trouble, but I can’t help thinking that they’re imposing on you. Christina’s here, sat by the television. I hope she won’t be left on the shelf. Good Friday often seems the right time to take stock, thinking of resurrections and bright futures, beyond the current darkness. I wish Bob was still alive. My bed’s been more lonely the last two years. I know you had a soft spot for him too, being a real gentleman as he surely was. Peter’s not rung.

Morning
It’s taking me a long time to finish this letter. I should have done more the night before. Peter’s absence is now really beginning to worry me. Christina’s gone off to meet the next train, she says. How she knows he’ll be on it, I don’t know. Perhaps she has some other errand in town while she’s there. You rung up again, told me the boys were OK. The potted plant looks a bit worse for wear. I think it was dying on its legs when Alan first bought it. He’s got no common sense between his ears. A bit like his father. But there’s no good trying to change people. It’s a nice blowy day - I think I’ll hang out the washing. It’s hard to make plans for meals, when everybody’s out and about and doing their own thing. Must go now, phone’s ringing. I’m a bit slow these days, Ooh, I hope it’s Peter.


Two days later
Sorry - I’ve been very busy cooking. But I promise I’ll get this letter off in the post today. So many nights in a row without proper sleep, especially the night before last when I got none. Christina’s in the garden - it is certainly warm for the time of year. But I do wish she wouldn’t go topless - I don’t know what the neighbours must think. Peter rang at last. Apparently not coming here at all. Something cropped up. Youngsters have a lot of commitments. I’m glad you kept me informed about the Citroen. Broken down in your drive, apparently. They’ll go back to college straight from yours? Ah well, it’s on the way, any rate. When I next see you, I’ll give you the Black Magic for looking after them. But what about Alan’s washing? He’s probably forgotten. He’ll live in those horrible jeans for the whole of next term. You say I shouldn’t carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I wish Bob had never smoked. I think I’ve got a migraine coming on. I shouldn’t have got so much food in. Christina eats like a bird. Well, Eunice, I hope the boys weren’t pests. They've always had a soft spot for you, I guess. I hope your rash is under control again. I’ll write you a proper letter tomorrow, when I’ve found your address and Christina’s gone, and I've got over from what happened the night before. But I'm never certain which night came first.
All my love,