Part 182: Monday, 3rd January 1966, 9.45p.m.

Of the agenda listed on p.96 I have done 2) (and taken tape recorder to Wyndsor Recording Co.), 3), 5), and got book-keeping up to date, though a good deal has to be done to get the 64/65 accounts ready for audit. More time-consuming than any of these has been a translation of an article by Aharoni, which he casually asked me if I’d mind doing. Bon prince, I said it would be quite alright, but although it has been interesting it has also been a nuisance. Including the typing, it must have taken me at least fifteen hours, most of the time against a background of yelling, jumping, fighting, whining from the trio and their sorely tried Mum.

Took Susannah to Sam & Lily yesterday morning…. Sam showed me draft of Mum’s new will, and her securities. I asked Sam how Mum lived – he said she had £100 in the house, and for the rest managed on her national assistance (about £4 a week, I think) and the rent she gets from the Blatts (about £2-10-0 a week – which just covers the rates).

Under her new will she settles her half share in 58 Moresby Road on the kids when they reach the age of 21. Sam says he too wants to settle his half share in 58 Moresby Road on the kids. Under Mum’s old will, she divided everything between Sam & me; so that I would have got a quarter share of the house. Not really very important.

I told Sam perhaps one ought not to let them have it when they were twenty-one, just like that; they might blow it all – not on riotous living but, I fear, as Sam and I did, through unfortunate marriages. They may not be as unlucky as we were in this respect; on the other hand they may be.

As I told Sam, it wouldn’t worry me if they had to get a divorce – they could be divorced and happily re-married happily by the time they were thirty (not forty-five) as with me – but it would krank [Yinglish, from Yiddish קראַנקהייַט: a sickness] me if their unsuccessful marriage cost them, as it did me, £1500.

Part 178: Wednesday, 1st December 1965, 9.15p.m.

Wednesday being a non-Evening Class, non-rehearsal day, should be able to get a lot done. In fact, no book-keeping, no reviewing, no schoolwork. Max chesy again, Dr Smith (Dr Covington’s woman assistant) came round three times to see him, says he can go back to school on Monday. …

We had arranged to go round to Sam & Lily’s on the Sunday afternoon. E. says Lily’s invitation was lukewarm & on the Sunday morning Sam told us not to come., the atmosphere was tense. I wrote two letters, one addressed to them both, the other to Lily…

Monday night Sam said they’d had a chat and there was a bit of light. He had said he was going to chuck up the business & rely solely on the County Hall & Lily “would have to get a job”. But I don’t see how she can.

Mum carries on, I hardly spare her a civil word now. If we could put her up here (we could, I suppose, with tremendous goodwill on E’s part, over and above the line of duty), if she would stay with us, then the business OR County Hall plus income from Moresby Road would enable Sam to get by…

But, as E. pointed out, a disadvantage attached to Sam’s staying at home all day would be that he & Lily would be in each other’s hair for fifty hours a week more than if Sam were out at County Hall…

Part 173: Sunday, 3rd October 1965, 4.45 p.m.

Sam had a “slight heart attack” over Rosh Hashana and is now in hospital. He has to rest four weeks in hospital and three weeks at home. He is taking it well and Lily is holding the S.W.H.L. [ Sam Witriol (Handbags) Limited]. fort. He agrees he will now have to turn in the County Hall job.

I have been reading the Riot Act to Mum, saying I didn’t want to have to say Kaddish for Sam before I had to say it for her, and that Sam would not be able to manage unless she could give him £5 a week from the rooms she now occupies at Moresby Road  [Upper Clapton], she to live with us. I know of course that this is impossible as a permanent arrangement, but I hope the message has got home – that Sam will need financial assistance….

The short point is that at 59 Sam will have to depend on what he can make out of the business, and he will have to allocate £6- £8 per week for someone – if he can be got – to tie up parcels, haul them up and downstairs etc. One can only hope, in order of importance I suppose 1) that Sam will be able to do “light” work – invoicing, phoning, the “brainwork” of the business 2) he will be spared – for how long? One can only hope- I wish one could really pray.

Part 169: Wednesday, 18th August 1965, 9.30 p.m.

Mr Winegarten’s and Mike Horn’s levayas [funeral, literally “accompaniment” in Hebrew ]to-day. Both at East Ham, went there from 40 Golders Gardens. Sam appears to have survived the night at the mortuary and the tahara [ritually preparing the body] with no ill effect. Lot of bloody hooey, he said, or words to that effect. Coming back I mentioned vanity of vanities. Apparently he’d been trying to think of the phrase. I wrote it out for him in English, Hebrew and English transliteration. He says he will be able to slay the orthodox intelligentsia with it.

Had feared a contrtetemps (what’s this kind of error called – verschreilen? Let’s say miswriting – duplication – due to tiredness) but unnecessarily I hope and believe.

Asher Fishman had suggested, apparrently, that Sam as “next in line” should say Kaddish [mourners’ prayer]. Sam would have been willing but jibbed – rightly – at the wording that it was “incumbent” on him. He rang up Livingstone, the emeritus Golders Green minister – very “English” – who said it was not incumbent, he could if he wished, but many people who had a parent or parents living, their parents objected. Sam rang Mum, she went off, so Sam dug his heels in and said he wouldn’t say Kaddish. I rang Lehrman while Mum was out of the room for his advice – could I make it quick as he was about to start lunch. I set the scene – it was superstition. Could he tell that to Mum? He was afraid not, his soup was getting cold. (!)

Anyway, Sam is not next in line, since the deceased had two brothers-in-law alive, both at the funeral, who in the event did say Kaddish. And each brother-in-law had a son available. Sam incensed; nobody knows or cares whether he’s got a mother. His holiday’s gobe for a Burton, so has mine.

Apparently Mick had committed suicide. Overdose of barbiturates. Guts. Why am I so frightened of dying.

Part 161: Friday, 30th April 1965 1.35 p.m.

I see I omitted to mention my 53rd birthday. Bloody depressing, not because general situation worse than on previous birthdays – Mum ill, Sam ill, true, but Sam now seems better, all one can hope for Mum is, as she says, that she will be able to look after herself to the end…and I have a secure home life and three lovely kids – but simply because fewer birthdays to count on, Time’s something or other beating.

Susannah came back with Edith a few minutes ago from shopping. We had fun with her walking along low wall of front garden…

Dr Dalton came to Mum yesterday. Said she had chronic bronchitis and emphysemia, and overshadowing everything chronic depression which was terrible for him (Dalton). I tried to say to him that I was sorry he couldn’t have me on his list, as I hadn’t seen a doctor for two (three/) years, and I realised that a patient who made the calls that Mum did was a burden. He: Most doctors get rid of them. J.W. But from a humanitarian viewpoint, how can you…? He: Quite easy, just write to the Executive Council, don’t worry, I won’t do it.

Won’t mention this to Sam, he’d only do his nut. I don’t know if I’d be more considerate if I were a doctor. Mum yesterday, ” a wonder ‘kh loif nisht erimm off d’gussn.” J.W: “So they’d take you off the gussn.” Mum: You’d make a good doctor.

Part 160: Wednesday, 28th April 1965 9.20 p.m. (part 2)

Started diet Monday morning – Leminits [?] drinks and apples only first two days, boiled eggs, 2 Rikings for bkfast to-day, Leminits for lunch, have laid out salad supper for E & self to-night. Starving, but have lost 3lb. Still have another 5lb to lose to get back to weight I was when I took out mortgage insurance.

Target is really 13 stone – then I could afford to put on 3-4lb over any week-end, and starve it off in the week. Want to try hard, anyway, to lay off bread, potatoes, cake, biscuits, sweets, chocolate. If I can succeed in this, then even with the nocturanl ice-cream, the generous helping of fried fish, & the occasional school dinner of potatoes (for library duty, don’t see why I should miss out on a free dinner) and potatoes when I go round to Mum once a week.

But will I go round to Mum’s once a week any more? She insisted on going home from Sam’s, but now still feels bad & may go to Sam’s to-morrow,

She says she wants to go into hospital, but Sam rang her doctor, who said he could only get her into Hackney; she wants only the London Jewish or the London. Again, what can one say. She’s 86; I know if I live to be 86 I shall want to go on living to 96. She prays not to be a burden – kh soll mkh kennen alleyn bedenen [hard to read the words and my dad’s Yiddish transcription was not standard] – what can I say. I’ve told her she can come and stay with us. She says she needs a holiday after she’s been with the kids an hour. Sam says she couldn’t take seeing E. getting on with the chores after Shabbes has come in. I doubt whether, with the best will in the world, we could in our situation keep Shabbes.

Leon Simon died the other day, 83. He judged my winning F.Z.Y. essay: “Mr Witriol has a gift for self-expression; my only criticism is that he tends to paragraph too freely.” In appearance he was scraggy, the typical higher civil servant type. Well, what can one say (you tell me, H.L., anything you can say about death which isn’t fatuous, or that I haven’t heard before).

Part 154: Sunday, 8.50p.m., 14th January [sic February] 1965

NB: Out of respect to Sam and Lily, a relative has asked that I remove more personal matters from this instalment. I am happy to do so.

Not a cheerful day. Sam [brother], Lily [sister-in-law] & Mum arrived for a birthday party we were giving for Philip. On entering the hall, Mum discovered she had left her bag with “about £50” in it in the car – the car had gone [redacted]. After an hour the driver came back – following on various telephone calls – with the bag, containing £41 in cash in it.

A policeman entered Mum’s bedroom on Thursday night, switching on all the lights – apparently a neighbour across the road had shouted out that someone was making an entry. Mum takes it all magnificently, she was probably saving the story to relate with full effect; as it was I heard it from Sam.

Poor Sam. He passed out the other day [redacted]. One can only hope that they [Sam and Lily] will both be spared [redacted].

It’s difficult to know what Sam can do. The Gordian knot could be cut by his giving up either the L.C.C. job or the business; I rather think the former [redacted]. Meanwhile Sam will soon be 59 and has had a — awful life.

Too fed up to write any more. Forty-five more school days before the Easter holidays start. I’m hoping that from this summer term on I shall more or less be able to take school in my stride, by which I mean do no more than bawl out not more than a hundred times a day “Stop talking!” “The next person that…will…”

Hugh Harris of the J.C. has sent me a book by Ilya Ehrenburg for review. A ticklish problem, as one must refer somehow — as H.H. said over the phone — to the fact that Ilya Ehrenburg managed to keep alive in the Stalinist purges.

Part 144: Thursday July 30th 1964, 9.10 p.m.

They [the Wagreich cousins] have come over, but polished the whole family off in one day, last Sunday. Sam & Lily had them round for lunch with Mum, and they came to us for tea and they acted as hosts to supper at a joint called the Beachcomber – dark, fake paraffin-burning candles on tables, the gimmick being the spécialité de maison – crustaceés. Sam told us the bill for the seven of us came to £14, and he gave £2-10-0 tip. The evening set me back £2-10-0 for the car taking Mum, E. and myself back, plus £12/6 for Mrs Hardy. Two sports shorts for each of the boys and myself (“sets” à l’Américaine), dresses for E. and Susannah…

Feeling rather cheesed. Fourth day of “holiday”. Took P. to Boobbe [grandmother in Yiddish] to-day. Boobbe said her nerves couldn’t stand P. running about as he did – “Bugger your nerves” – “I’m going home.” Journey there and back involved five buses, one train, walking to and from Tally Ho. Schlepped large case with disjecta membra of three deck-chairs. I suppose I’m not so smart, I ought to be able to bung the kids and various clobber in the car and take them places.

After prolonged intermittent labour managed to deliver my “German Basis of Yiddish” [see also Chapter IV of mumme loohshen . Whether the J.C. take it or not, ‘khonn ne alleyn tsegibben, as Boobbe Y. says, it has some meat in it. I suppose someone else has hit upon the epenthetic n in hu’nt, and the pronthetic u‘s in uheen, uher, etc., but I have hit upon them quite independently.

Susannah has just come down and is having fun with the drapes in the dining room. Ah-ah a gedille…

 

Part 138: Monday April 20th 1964, 10.5p.m.

Mrs Davison ob. on Saturday morning. A lantsfro [a fellow Jew usually from the same village or town originally] of Mum’s, the two were like sisters in the old days. She was in her eighties, but sad all the same:yer goddergo, yergoddergo, we know, but who wants to go, ever? Mum in splendid form, shovelling clods into grave, giving instructions for her tombstone inscription: chob geleyht, geleebt, gelacht. Insists that her age must not be recorded – azoi oz eekh hob nisht gevalt az me zoll mekh bedokren bam leybn, uzoi vill ekh nisht oz me zoll mekh mekanne zaan bam toit.

Fifty-two tomorrow, I must try to do some book-keeping [for his brother’s business] after evening classes then, so will commit to paper my po-hem on the occasion now:-

Fifty – two — 

Nu?

No — I’m a Polack and proud of it, so:

Fifty-two.

Who?

me.

Nee?

Fifty-two to-day.

Oi vay!

Two and Fifty.

Zifty!

(Zifty Mod. Heb. slang: lousy)

Thirty years ago: swotting at Birkbeck, knowing poor degree or failure ahead ( a marvel to me how I got even a third in the event. Intensely unhappy, knowing that as member of academic lumpenproleteriat would have to face unemployment. I did – but why didn’t I register at the Labour Exchange. Mum: geh verdeen! Can’t blame her.

Twenty years ago: the best time. Newly commissioned.

Ten years ago: the worst time. Aggie had me where she wanted me. [the divorce that predated the years of the Journal – mentioned in the last chapter of his autobiography].

To-day. See above. Of course I realise how lucky I am to have E. and three happy, healthy, normal kids. But my lack of success professionally, my “rank” corresponding to that of L/AUL (Local Acting Unpaid lance) Bombardier, and the shades of evening falling fast are the flies in the ointment. As Lehrman [?] said: Why be afraid, it’s where we all have to end up? I’m not afraid, just sorry it’s got to happen. As of now I prefer being, with all its inconveniences and worries, to non-being.

 

Part 109: Thursday 17th January 1963, 9. p.m.

The imps now sleep together in nursery,hence am able to write this in study. E. [Edith Witriol, wife] went to hospital this morning. A bright medico there told her it seemed she had twins (near collapse of pregnant party), but Jackson, in charge of her clinic, had her X-rayed and it appears she will have a solo. Me, I’m prepared for anything, anyway –  so long as mother and child/children keep well. Au fond, I suppose I would be a little smug about twins – four kids in four years would be pretty good going….[passage redacted]. The other day one Wilkes, teaches geography, young Welsh bachelor, smart, said he thought he was sickening for mumps, hoped it wouldn’t spread down as it affected, he believed, one’s virility. J.W.: I’ve got too much virility, I could do with some sterility.

Mum had burst pipes at Moresby Road on the Monday morning. Sam [brother] had left her snug and well provisioned on the Sunday evening. The Eden Grove boys’ (and one staff) toilets froze up, as a result the Eden Grove teaching staff had two days off. A bit of luck that I do no teaching at all at Camden Road this year; in previous years I have “shuttled” between the two buildings, and the shuttlers had to go in to teach their Camden Road lessons. Was able to let Dr Dolton in for mum, get her prescriptions. Have heard from her to-night that plumber finally located her burst pipe, and she now has water. One must now hope she has no power cuts, she keeps electric fire on all night in her bedroom. We had a 2½ hr. power cut on Monday evening and a 10-20 min. cut this evening. (The electricity workers are going slow.)

There has been hardly any let-up at all in the cold weather. Snow all heaped up on pavements in side streets. Boys’ toilets still out of order, but D.O. said to use two of staff’s three indoor toilets. On with the bath. This entry written with Osmiroid pen. 1/3. The answer to my fountain pen problems.