5, Brunswick Gardens
London W8

Monday evening, November 17^th 1968

Dearest Machi and Denden,

I am going to write a quick note so as not to have such long gaps. I have sent on your nice letter, and the sad news of Den's finger to Claudia this am. What a very awkward finger to break. If the branch fell on Denden's shoulder, as Machi said, I am very glad it isn't a broken shoulder. People kept asking me for whom I would have voted, and I always tell them about Mrs Dix's saying she would vote for Rockefeller if he got in, or otherwise McCarthy. I had a letter from Betty telling us about Ellen W. living in Atlanta. It's nice that they, Jeff and E. went down to see them.

I know you always want news of Ellen, but we haven't seen her since the time at the cottage. She sounded cheerful about the translating job that Michael was to get in January, and hoped to save money by the fact that Michael would do the work at home and so not have to eat out. A lot more work for her, though, I should say.

When I wrote last week I was very very upset about Phil who seemed to be so ill that I didn't think he could, or would want to live much longer, but we were surprised at him yesterday, when he was up from before lunch, and at his desk off and on until after 7:30, working on his income tax - and this morning Susan thought him a different man from last Thursday. I found out that he had a temperature on the Tuesday when he seemed to be asleep more than awake, but this has gone now. He walks only as far as the bathroom, and to his own TV room, so I am afraid he is very weak. Also he has a hard time making himself eat.

The doctor told me last week that I must arrange to get out more. It isn't as easy as he thinks. Mrs Roscoe is the only person he doesn't mind having in just so that I can get away. She came on Thursday, I had a quick drink and omelette with John R., and tried do all the still undone things required for the cottage, but the shops are full of Christmas shoppers, and everywhere is a mess and much waiting around. Here is bankrupt Britain not supposed to be spending any money, yet there seems to be a record pre-Christmas spree. Here's one who won't be doing it. I have been a bit staggered by the extra money Mr Kimber has asked for. Wish we could fine him for being so long.

Lee went up by himself and spent Saturday night, plugging up some of the draughts. The Bulmers were there and he seems to have had an excellent lunch with Miranda, the new husband and Victor. He seems to take more interest in that cottage than most things. He is also going to help me lay a floor in the TV room here. The carpet is all but gone where one sits and watches. This afternoon while Mrs Roscoe was here on her regular day, I took some glass around to be cut for bathroom shelves, and it was near enough to be able to go see Jennifer. I took Jeffries off her hands for a short walk to Portobello to buy both herself and me some food. It is most impressive to see the shelves and cupboards Hugo has built, and wonderful wide workshelves, &c. I was really horrified to see what sort of place they have been living in. Only the kitchen and dining room are the least bit safe for Jeffries. They are kept warm with an electric fire. No hot water for two weeks, poor things, and the heating and water were promised for the end of last week. At least it is going to be very nice one day.

I'm so glad you get around all right with your walker. I shall have to learn a bit about cooking again. I've always been a bit nervous when I have company. Not necessarily about the food, but about having to make introductions and make the conversation go, and all that. I only cook for the family now, and it never matters if the meals are late. Jennifer and the babies stayed all afternoon yesterday, and had supper and baths. They also came in one other night - all four of the family to have baths, and do some washing in the machine. Even her closest launderette went out of order. She had her first invitation from a neighbour on the street while I was there today. They have lived on the street for two years and are so glad to see other people of their kind putting money in houses. Did I tell you that the next door house is owned by a coloured man, who packs in as many tenants as he can squeeze.

From Mollie (unsigned)