Joseph Witriol’s Journal – Part 23: Sandler angler

Monday, 28th July 1958 – 11.10am

The holidays are here. The term ended badly. H – my headmaster – told me I was to have the lowest 4th yr. stream again next year. A young girl on the staff gets a 3rd year A stream. One tells oneself not to worry –  as a non-graded Primary School teacher one is a failure anyway – but the pill is a bitter one to swallow.

Anyway, back to self-reproduction. Perhaps, after all, least said, soonest mended. I hope, my child(ren) will read this, and I don’t want to do myself an injustice by a ruthless analysis of my motives which might, in fact, be very wide of the mark. However, for his/her/their benefit let me say this:

1) You were conceived in love, your parents want you to be healthy, happy ( I myself find it impossible to conceive of happiness and ill-health co-existing in one person; I hope that happiness and health will be your lot) and successful – in that order.

2) because I am lazy, and daily drink the bitter waters of my laziness, I exhort you to work (I read that lazy fathers usually keep their sons’ noses to the grindstone – in a biography of Mozart). My son(s), swot like blazes till you are twenty-five at least, then you can sit back and draw the dividends – you will be (an) administrative civil servant(s) or dons (I’ll stick to the plural!) or salaried writers (free-lance authorship I doubt whether you will have enough of a gift for to make it as remunerative as the higher bureaucracy or donnery).

Schroffer übergang – as Bithell once wrote on one of the rare scripts I ever did in my 3-yr. German course. We had the Nemeths [?] round the other day, a Miss Avril Shadstone (Shenstone) [?] whom Mrs N. was anxious to get Merton [Sandler] for, Sam [Joseph Witriol’s brother], Lily [Weingarten, Sam’s wife] & Maisie [Lily’s sister], Alf [Katz, Edith’s brother] and Richard [Stern]. The afternoon was highly successful – Merton & Avril clicked. Edith – and I – were favourably & unexpectedly impressed by Avril. A well-groomed, well-spoken young woman, drives, sophisticated but not snooty (said the Avril was to perpetuate an ancestor named Avrohom, which I liked). It seems strange that such a young woman should “play” in Shadchanish [‘matchmaking-ish’] schemes, but, on reflection, there’s no reason why a girl, even if she has plenty of social outlets, should not welcome an invitation to tea at which an eligible young man is to be present. There can be no doubt about Merton’s eligibility – at 32 (31?) he is a consultant at Queen Charlotte’s hospital (£2,000 a year?), of good Anglo-Jewish family.

Mrs N. rang to know if Merton had followed up the contact. Edith thinks she had in fact found out from the girl that he had done so, and this was an attempt to get us to get Merton weaving. Mrs N. told Edith she had another young man lined up for her protégée. The next day Merton rang. Nice popsy, what was it all about? I came clean, and told him he could get the young lady’s phone no. from Mrs N. Edith delighted. Quite, or almost quite, seriously, if this had been professionally shadchaned we would have done very well out of it. I don’t know how professional shadchanim recoup themselves; a percentage of the nadan [dowry], I expect. I can hardly see this percentage being less than 5%, and I can hardly see Avril’s nadan being less than £5,000 ( a furnished house in the suburb, which I think is what Merton is after – £7-8,000 would be nearer the mark). 5% of £5,000 = £250. This is so irrelevant to our own financial needs, that I’d prefer to retain my amateur status. In the event, if the pair are matched, it will probably cost me 5gns. in a wedding present. Merton, top professional man though he is, got us a cellular blanket as a wedding gift (3gns.?); as an impecunious melammed [teacher] I can hardly pay less than 5 gns. for Merton’s gift. But probably I would have to be sensible, rather than indulge my love of paradox and the gesture – how about a 2gn. -3gn. vase, darling? (A vase was one of the things we didn’t get, but Mum wrote to Uncle Mendel and Auntie Dora [my father’s mother’s sister and her husband] telling them this, & they sent us a silver vase from Israel).

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