1968: CENTRE COURT SEATS!
Fabulous footage of the first day at Wimbledon - a wet one.
Monday, 24 June
Pretty grotty weather for Wimbledon - two matches only because of the rain! Ma went with Rachel so I was left with the house to myself. Washed my hair and did Othello till 9pm. The amount I know about Othello may be considerable, but unless you apply yourself it doesn’t mean a thing.
I had a ghastly pain in my stomach today as though I’d pulled a muscle. It’s gone now.
Tuesday, 25 June
Everybody was distraught about English. In the end the exam wasn’t so bad, I mean, I wasn’t stuck or anything, but I think my mark will be pretty low. You could study Othello for ten years and still not write a decent essay. The paraphrase was disgusting and the essay was on Cassio. The Chaucer paraphrase was fabulous - only one word I didn’t know (‘soper’).
Going home these boys in Tadworth called out ‘hello’ as Chump and me passed. They wouldn’t stop till I said ‘hello’ back, so I did. So embarrassing though - I never know what to do.
Listened to Pol on the radio. He’s still gorgeous, but I could have wept when I heard his new version of ‘Ame Caline’ - he’s gone jazzy. I heard three of his new songs and I don’t think I like them. Still, at least he’s not becoming stale like Adamo, and I know his music will always be of a high quality.
2020: My friend Anya and I shared a love of French pop music and were passionate about Michel Polnareff (aka Pol). When we first heard of him, at the start of 1967, he was the most effeminate man we had ever seen. By July, in our eyes, he was a genius. We tracked down his Knightsbridge hotel, made friends with the receptionist, and left in a swoon. One late night in September, at a music studio in Holland Park, we were with him for ten minutes, alone. He signed our LPs, played us a tune, and Anya took home his cigarette stub.
Classically trained, Polnareff was playing the piano at five and composing at 11. In 1966 his ballad for guitar, ‘La Poupée Qui Fait Non’, made his name. The soulful, orchestral ‘Ame Câline’ in 1967 took him to another level. In 1971 his album ‘Polnareff’s’ was described as “an early model for the excesses of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Tusk’” and a “psychedelic pop masterpiece”.
I never got to see him play. My passion blew out.
Wednesday, 26 June
Got a letter from Henri. He says he was terribly pleased to get mine and would like to go on writing. He’s coming to England in a month - and wants to “drop in”!
French worse than expected, in fact, it was foul.
Poor Sarah’s had her appendix out. About three weeks ago. Although I can’t feel any definite pain, there’s an indigestionny feeling in my tummy.
The Elston-Dews came in the evening. They’re really nice, as nice as the Batchelors. Had staggering Coq au Vin and a huge bowl of strawberries.
Thursday, 27 June
Had a horrid night. I woke up at 5 and didn’t get to sleep again for worrying about my appendix. It was still there and I felt all hot and shivery - I’m worried it’s a grumbling appendix. There is still a twingey feeling in my waist. I also felt sick.
French was horrible - we were expected to know a ‘vélo’ is a bicycle. If you didn’t, well, you couldn’t understand words like ‘exhaust pipe’ and ‘handlebars’.
Lucy and me got the train to Wimbledon and a bus to the courts. It was the first time she’s ever been - she hadn’t heard of Rosemary Casals, didn’t know what Emerson looked like, and didn’t know who won Wimbledon last year! We had our lunch on the tea-lawn. Tons of French, heavenly. You can spot them a mile off. On Court 2 saw Gonzales against Maud who he beat in three sets, even though poor Maud tried fantastically hard. Then Fletcher against the Peru chap; Fletcher is moody and unpleasant but terribly entertaining. Tons of snazz chaps selling ice creams and drinks.
The rain poured down, but we made our way through the crowds to the strawberries and cream, which we had under the huge canopy. Everybody retreats to their umbrellas - it’s hilarious.
Ma’s finished knitting Chump’s mini-cardy. It’s fantastic.
Friday, 28 June
Disgusting weather. Who would believe it would go on and on. I do hope it’s ok for when Simone comes. I don’t think she realises she’ll be going to school every day, and I won’t be able to take her to a single party (obviously she’s used to tons). We’ll be swimming instead. I must get some Tampax before she comes.
German was very hard.
Chump and me watched Wimbledon. Laver beat Riessen, who’s an awful snazz, and Hewitt beat Hoad. It was a fabulous match, they were so obviously enjoying themselves - at the end, Hewitt was scampering around in circles! Also saw Ulrich, the long-haired Danish Viking. He’s so adorable, all he needs is a pair of horns. Amazing he’s 39.
After supper I wrote a long letter to Henri. He sounds rather keen on me - or maybe he’s just a friendly chap.
Feeling weak. I’ve just had the most ghastly diarrhoea.
Saturday, 29 June
I can’t get over our luck with the weather!!! Wimbledon is completely different in the sun!!! Ma took us as the trains were a bit dodgy.
Everybody was in summer dresses, all bright and colourful, and we had fantastic seats on the centre court, four rows from the front. Saw a pathetic match between Nancy Richie and Miss Amos (Miss Amos was hopeless) and a boring one between Ralston and a Brazilian. Near the end of the break we decided to get a couple of ice-creams, but two absolute hags at the end of our row blew me up for getting them late. A few minutes later a woman passed them to get ices too… they didn’t dare tell her off, of course. It’s incredible these sort of people exist.
It was a fantastic match between Santana and Graebner. Santana really is adorable and terribly popular! Unfortunately Graebner won. At the end of the set we decided to leave for tea, but, would you believe it, those hags said I couldn’t come past. One even put up her hand to prevent me! Of course the man told her to let me pass, but it made me miserable for five minutes after.
The older we get, the more we forget: how dismissive adults can be of young people. While under 12s are deemed to be lovable, teenagers generally are not. However polite, they do not always receive the consideration they deserve. They too have feelings! Are people kinder now… or have the gorgons always been with us?
Saw a fantastic doubles between Hoad and Davidson, and Okker and Riessen. We wanted Hoad and Davidson to win: Hoad is 33 and hasn’t got many tennis years left; also, Riessen is very surly. There were some thrilling rallies, so exciting Chump couldn’t watch! Ma met us outside at 7.30.
After supper we all left for Meares for Grandma’s 70th birthday. Sat in Grandpa’s room - lit by one oil lamp and candles! - as Ronald brought us strawberries and cream. It was lovely. Grandpa attempted to tell us about their trip to Ireland, and Grandma kept coming in with her ‘stories’. Apparently the Catholic Church is the ruling power in Ireland and it’s appalling. They persuade families to have a child every two years, persuade the farmers to work dreadfully hard (to help the Church), and worst of all, if a man is doing unusually well, they get rid of him for being conceited.
Saw photos of Shani and Lucas - adorable. Once, to demonstrate how he can do joining-up writing, Lucas wrote, “Dear Grandma - I loaf you. Love from Lucas.” When pointed out his mistake he said, “It doesn’t matter Grandma - you need bread as well as love”!!!
I think Grandma and Grandpa are fantastic.
Sunday, 30 June
Staggering weather. Spent most of the day down by the pool and had three swims, all gorgeous. Chump and me had races as water-pigs, but nearly drowned laughing.
The new couple next door came round - Adrian and Dora. We had Pimms and cheese straws. They must be about 28 and 30 but look five years younger. They are so nice and they met at Oxford. He designs men’s clothes and he gave Pa advice on how to become “elegant and nonchalant”! The answer is, don’t buy expensive suits that last forever. Get well-cut ready-made suits you can discard after a year. Adrian finds that suit-cutters are just as clueless as architects. He has to do all their work for them, like Pa does. It’s only like this in England, of course. It’s because of the training.
Aaron and the little girl are adorable. They were in their paddling-pool and I said, “is it very warm?” Aaron replied, “no, it’s very cold - I must get out” - and he did!
Had roast beef and Yorkshires for lunch. Then we went out to tennis, and came back with the Elston-Dews, Mr Batchelor, and the Charruthers. We all swam. Mr Elston-Dew was hilarious on the lilo.
When on earth am I going to get some Tampax? I have to before Simone comes.
Meareshurst Cottage
