Angus Mackay Diaries Volume XIX (2004-2007)
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Angus Mackay Diaries Volume XIX (2004-2007) ANGUS MACKAY DIARY NO. 186 April 19 2004 - July 28 2004. Monday April 19 2004 No scaffold. To H’smith for haircut at the comforting barbers built into the Metropolitan tube station. Quick, cheap and well done for the close cut so much more suitable for an old man. Afterwards to the shopping ‘mall’ – absurd word – to Books Etc, nothing. This branch has coarsened further.‘Pens’ at the stationary-shop good, and on to Tesco Metro. Easy, as I know it, and Tesco’s generally, but I was struck by the greater effort it took me to haul round a basket instead of a trolley, not to mention my arm and shoulder and my left hip as I queued for five? seven? minutes. I was really surprised at how tired it made me. How long since I shopped like that? Six months? Tuesday April 20 2004 Letter from S. Quite sad and touching. He doesn’t blink, that it’s a failure. ‘Perhaps I should stick to the classics.’ Yes, and no straight love-making, for which he has a gift in reverse. What a poor judge he is of what suits him. Because his illusions and inhibitions and fantasies take over, especially the inhibitions that he thinks he got over at the wretched drama-school. I must try and think of the right classic (sic) part for him. I don’t think he ever will. Ling-ling here, cleaned bedroom well. Amiable, despite having found no more jobs for her. Wednesday April 21 2004 Recovering. Oh dear, I have to recover from Ling-ling days. How pathetic. Finished the Redgrave. Much better done than J’s warnings led me to expect. I think it’s about as much as we can expect at this stage of the family. Even as it is, I was repelled by the self- indulgence and intellectual dishonesty of most parties. The seaman up the other end of the drawing with Michael, and the children with Rachel at the other end as Prim described, was true. There is a photo of the ‘family’ with Vanessa leaning on Rachel, and whatever his name was symbolically between them, in uniform, but what Prim didn’t know, - or didn’t say – was that, a little later, Rachel started a twenty-five stint as Glen Byam Shaw’s mistress. It’s the dreadful impression of shallowness that so often overcomes me when I talk to S – what I describe as ‘going from thing to thing to thing.’ A lifelong attachment compressed into a few months. No wonder Vanessa is such a nutcase. And I refuse to believe that great acting implies trivial behaviour. Thursday April 27 2004 Finished the E. George detect. As ever, a surprising command of some English place and society, in this case, Guernsey, with very few lapses in idiom or custom. A pity that the two main ‘detectives’ are congenital idiots. America’s tribute to the English. I shan’t read another. I did admire her application, as I would any American who made cricket the authentic centre of one book, but I suppose the force of that application does rather preclude a firm and deep grasp of character as well. On another plane altogether, I don’t think, incredibly, I have mentioned the new Alan Hollinghurst, which I bought the other week. Probably because such prose goes straight into your brain without the print in between, ‘The Line of Beauty.’ In fact, a rare happening, I think I may read it again shortly.I see one of the notices calls his prose ‘rich and elastic.’ Well deserved. Friday April 23 2004 Cried off shopping and cancelled cab. Oh well, age. Decided to concentrate on the books on the sofa that need real attention. Finished the Douglas Jerrold. A competent very well researched book. Perhaps a little pedestrian, but serviceably written and packed with detail. And it served my purpose very well to remedy my comparative ignorance of the 1820s-50s.I can’t say it didn’t confirm my prejudice against it. Has anyone ever written a small – or large – monograph on the really fearful degringolade that overtook English humour between Austen and Dickens? I admit, against my will, that Dickens had great gifts, but how they were blunted and muddied, but the really awful literary conventions of the ‘30s and ‘40s, the leaden facetiousness, the relentless punning, the almost incredible repetition of gag after running gag. Like an episode of ITMA on very off day. If Dickens can commit Joey Bagstock to the world, imagine what his inferiors got up to. It goes on to faintly mar Trollope in his names, for instance, at least in some of the early novels. It’s so odd, that they couldn’t see those labels as a backward step, Jonson not Shakespeare. As for poor D. Jerrold himself, he was a more or less uneducated child of actors in provinces, small, almost dwarfish, with an underdog complex, not surprisingly. Now he would be the editor of a tabloid. It is a measure of the vulgarisation of the time that he could be thought of as a third to Dickens and Thackery – they were both pall-bearers at his funeral, he aged only 54 – as for his work, it is and has long been, rightly forgotten, unreadable and unread. How many plays? Heavens, only Black Eyed Susan is a name. But, - he must have had some personal qualities that transcended his literary failings and his tiresome ineffective views. Quick wit, friendship, - he was loved. Rang Keith B to tell him the second copy of the investment forms hadn’t arrived either.I suggested he didn’t send another set, but I asked K to call in for them on the way here. Saturday April 24 2004 The forms arrived. As I suppose the letter for the second set was photocopied – April 6th – this might have been either. As the bathset also arrived the other day, I’ve got both things to consult K about when he gets back. Let’s just hope he’s this way, if only for half-an-hour. 73º today. Ugh. I hope I die before ‘global warming’ really kicks in, as they call it now. Sunday April 25 2004 Managed not to garden with the assistance of a good deal of sophistry. Picked off the sofa The Most Beautiful Man in Existence – a foolish title made even more foolish that it seems there are no portraits of him, but I hadn’t read more than a paragraph of the first chapter, - a synopsis of the author’s only novel from 1811 or some time, then – to see that the scholar who wrote the book has wit enough and to spare. American too, heavens. Bed reading, a thriller masquerading as a detective-story, The Dead Sit Round in a Ring by David Lawrence – fancy. It’s determinedly downbeat, and finds the worst in everyone, to such a point that I felt like writing to him and telling him to give himself up to the police. Poor little dim chap, no biographical note and I’m not surprised. 73 fucking degrees again. Monday April 26 2004 Mowed lawn. A triumph. A great relief, but there is much to do. Tuesday April 23 2004 Ling-ling as usual. A good deal of rain for K to come back to. 7.40, on my third gin & t, K rang. Screeched with excitement and pleasure. Safe back. May come round Thurs or Fri, at a studio near here, for investments and bath seat. Oh dear, I must be careful not to let him know how much better I feel when he comes back, stronger, I mean, and better able to cope. A rainstorm. Wednesday April 28 2004 No scaffold. Rang K on machine that I’d got both of Roy’s New Tricks episodes after all. Raining and raining. Eggs Florentine lunch. Watched Roy’s Thursday epi. and loved it. Funny and full of character. And the acting, - J. Bolam and A Redman coming down from a tower-block where they’d talked to a poor old man, coughing his way through emphysema. She: and he hasn’t got anyone has he? He: No. And into that two or three things, delicately. He’s worth the money for that ‘No’ alone. Rang Roy, and I hope made it clear how much and why I admired his two episodes. Delighted to find that one of them had the highest single rating for BBC1 this year, and they’ve commissioned a second series! But idiots as they are, he isn’t writing all those either! Marian spoke first, and apologised for not reading the Trollope. ‘You stupid bitch, I’ve only waited 32 years, so…’ J a bit under the weather again, a bit sick etc, going home early, probably not going to work tomorrow. I don’t like a lot of real symptoms, unlike H and Geoffrey’s permanent hypochondria, while going on attending other people’s funerals regardless. Thursday April 29 2004 Very poor night, and last night was not good. Woke at one and didn’t sleep again. Dreaded K coming round enough to ring him and say so. Really struck by him catching from my voice that I was low at once. ‘Are you alright?’ It’s those musician’s ears. Rang back on machine to say 3-4 tomorrow. Good. Rain. Rain. Friday April 30 2004 He arrived 3.15. Two good hours. Gave him the two videos with Roy’s New Tricks on.