I HATE AND I LOVE
(THE LISTS MY FATHER NEVER MADE)
Depressing Things
A time-consuming letter, replete with carefully composed items of news, is mailed to a former friend who (unaccountably) does not answer, thus gradually prompting the revelation (after three further epistles have been written and despatched) that the friend in question has been dead now for some number of years.
Oh, how depressing!
Discovering that the only place at which one’s favourite variety of chocolates (violet creams!) could reliably be purchased will in future no longer be stocking them (‘insufficient demand’).
Oh, how depressing!
After encouraging guests to enjoy a hot bath before dinner, finding that one’s own bath runs cold (this misfortune compounded by the impossibility of disclosing the fact).
Oh, how depressing!
Discovering, during a perfect summer’s afternoon, that clouds of smoke from the newly constructed neighbouring power station have obscured the sun and cast the garden into deep and enduring shade.
Oh, how depressing!
Rare Things
A person of impeccable taste.
A well-fashioned pair of shoes that fits uncommonly narrow – aristocratic! – feet.
A woman of wit.
A young person who is not bored by the company of an older man who has come to possess youthful tastes. (Alas!)
Annoying Things
A postal clerk – the last collection having been made just before one reaches the post-office – adamantly refuses to have further letters added to the outgoing sack. (Bureaucracy!)
Guests who produce sheaves of holiday snapshots, and yet fail to admire the house in which they are fortunate enough to be staying.
At church services, the use of texts other than those derived from King James’s Bible.
Women who refuse to allow men to sit together in the dining room after dinner. (Barbaric!)
Any detailed response to one’s simple and courteous inquiry as to how a guest has slept.
Splendid Things
The lace collar of a young Prince, painted by Van Dyck.
A magnolia grandiflora that has just unfurled its petals.
A full-length coat of sable.
A loved, and impeccably maintained, old family house.
A Ducati, unthrottled. (The Duke!)
Disagreeable Things
A certain gentleman – who (in modesty) shall here remain nameless! – having gone to enormous trouble to restore his family monuments to positions of appropriate prominence within his local church, subsequently discovers that the congregation, instead of showing their gratitude, complain that their generous benefactor had not first secured their permission.
The faint odour, from beneath a woman’s clothing, of unclean linen.
Nylon sheets . . . Morris dancers . . . Medieval music.
Conversations about Proust (or any other French writers).
Unpolished wine glasses upon a dining table.
Things Worth Seeing
Fred Astaire movies.
‘Race of the Aces’ at Snetterton!
Valmouth (the musical), with Fenella Fielding as Lady Parvula. (Heaven!)
Other people’s carved staircases (for purposes of comparison to one’s own superior version!)
Pleasing Things
A guest who appreciates the amount of work that must go into the maintaining of proper standards in hospitality.
A newspaper article (about oneself) or television appearance (by oneself) when remarked on and admired by persons of discerning judgment.
A trim woman, fully conscious that she looks well in her clothes, walking briskly along a Mayfair street to keep – one can only suppose! – an appointment most agreeable in nature.
A friend who, spending time in one’s company, deigns never to consult his watch.
The least sign (from one’s children) of any recognition (however slight!) of all that one does (and continues to do) entirely without complaint.
Embarrassing Things
A conscientious host, discovered while thoughtfully drawing the curtains in the bedroom of guests, who appears to them (quite without justice) to have been spying.
One’s adolescent daughter, having put on weight, so that her clothes, once appealing, now appear unpleasantly tight.
One’s wife, oblivious, on a public occasion, that her slip is showing, or that she possesses traces of lipstick stains upon her teeth.
Surprising and distressing things
A conversation with one’s daughter which leads her on to criticisms of oneself, the precision of her analysis suggesting that she has been pondering these (supposed!) flaws for some time.
Upon the birth of one’s first grandchild, discovering that it is impossible to feel pleasure at this sudden intimation of one’s mortality.
Learning that one’s children dislike one’s most intimate friend.
Things That Have Relinquished Their Power to Charm
An enchanting house, from which its rightful occupant has been compelled to depart.