Read George Orwell: A Life in Letters Online
Authors: Peter Davison
The other day I ran into Paddy Donovan in the Edgware Road.
2
He has a job cleaning windows and he said he would ring me up, but he hasn’t done so yet. He was wounded in Germany about the time of the crossing of the Rhine. Don’t forget to ring me up if you’re in town this coming autumn.
Yours
Eric Blair
[XVIII, 2984, pp. 257–8; typewritten]
1
.
Orwell’s telephone number has not been reprinted. It was CAN 3751.
2
.
John (Paddy) Donovan (1905– ), a labourer who had served in World War I and was one of Orwell’s colleagues in Spain. He, with Cottman and a number of others, had signed Orwell’s refutation of F. A. Frankford’s allegations in the
Daily Worker
against the ILP contingent (see Crick, pp. 346–47). Orwell was later to give him some work digging his Hertfordshire garden when Donovan was out of work (Crick, p. 354).
To Marjorie Dakin*
30 April 1946
27B Canonbury Square
Islington N 1
Dear Marj,
I have only just heard from Avril about your illness. Naturally I only got a brief account from her, but she said it was pernicious anaemia. I do hope you are going on all right and are being properly treated. I am sending simultaneously with this a few books, some of which I hope you may not have read.
1
I am just on the point of going away to Jura for 6 months. The furniture has gone, but it’s likely to take a long time getting there owing to the sea journey. I am letting this flat furnished, or rather am lending it to someone,
2
as we’re not supposed to sublet. When the furniture arrives I shall go on ahead and get the house in order, and then bring Richard up later. Susan has to go into hospital for a treatment which will take about a month, and during that time I am going to park him in a nursery school. It seems rather ruthless, but I can’t look after him singlehanded for that length of time, and he is such a social child that he is bound to get on all right. We intend to stay on Jura till about October and I am dropping all casual journalism during that time, though I hope to get started on another book once I’ve got the house straight. The move is of course very expensive, but once it’s done we shall have a nice summer residence for almost no rent, and it will be a lovely place for children to stay.
Richard is extremely well and getting quite big. He weighs about
37 pounds and keeps growing out of his clothes. He will be 2 on the 14th of May. He doesn’t speak, but is very forward in other ways and very enterprising. He loves tools and already understands how to do such things as hammering in nails. He also goes downstairs on his own initiative and tries to put on his own shoes and socks. I shall be very glad to get him into the country for the summer because he’s getting too active for a flat. We have a garden here, but it’s not possible to leave him alone in it because he gets out into the street.
Don’t bother answering this. I am also writing to Humphrey. I am not certain what date I shall be leaving London (probably about May 10th), but my Jura address will be Barnhill, Isle of Jura, Argyllshire.
Love
Eric
[XVIII, 2987, pp. 262–3; typewritten]
1
.
Marjorie died on 3 May 1946. Orwell attended her funeral (see
Diaries
, p. 372). Writing later to her husband, Humphrey, he said, ‘One cannot really say anything about Marjorie’s death. I know what it is like and how it sinks in afterwards’ (XVIII, 2998, p. 309). Her children would later stay at Barnhill.
2
.
Mrs Miranda Wood (then Miranda Christen) had returned from the Far East early in 1
946 after 3½ years in Japanese-occupied territory. She was technically a German national by marriage and was pursuing protracted divorce proceedings. She stayed in Orwell’s London flat during the summers of 1946 and 1947. She undertook typing for him including ‘Such, Such Were the Joys’ and sections of
Nineteen Eighty-Four
. (For fuller details see the long note, XIX, p. 228 and her memoir, XX, 373
5, pp. 300–306.)
To Michael Meyer*
23 May 1946
Barnhill
Isle of Jura
Argyllshire
Dear Michael,
Thanks so much for your efforts. No, I haven’t a licence
1
(there’s no policeman on this island!) so don’t worry about the black powder. I made some which is not as good as commercial stuff but will do. If you
could
get the percussion caps I’d be much obliged. Tell them the largest size they have, i.e. something about this size .
I’m just settling in here—up to my eyes getting the house straight, but it’s a lovely house. Richard isn’t coming till the end of June, because Susan has to have a minor operation & I couldn’t cope with him singlehanded, so I’ve had to board him out. However the reports are that he is getting on well. Only difficulties at present are (a) that I can’t yet get a jeep (hope to get one at the end of the month) & am having to make do with a motor bike which is hell on these roads, & (b) owing to the drought there’s no water for baths, though enough to drink. However one doesn’t get very dirty here. Come & stay sometime. It’s not such an impossible journey (about 48 hours from London) & there’s plenty of room in this house, though of course conditions are rough
All the best
George
[XVIII, 3002, p. 312; handwritten]
1
.
A licence was needed to carry a gun. Presumably Orwell was seeking ammunition for his gun.
To Rayner Heppenstall*
16 June 1946
Barnhill Isle of Jura Argyllshire
Dear Rayner,
Do come about July 14th if that date suits you.
1
Try & let me have a week’s notice, so as to arrange about meeting you, as posts here are somewhat infrequent. There are boats to Jura on Mondays, Wednesdays & Fridays. The itinerary is this (but better check it with the L.M.S.
2
in case any time is altered):—
8 am leave Glasgow Central Station for Gourock
(
gourock
)
Join boat at Gourock
Arrive East Tarbert about 12 noon
Travel to West Tarbert by bus (runs in conjunction with boat)
Join boat at West Tarbert
Arrive Jura about 3 pm.
3
You can book right [through] from Glasgow, or pay your fare on each boat. Fare Gourock–Jura is about £1. Bring any food you can manage, & bring a towel. You’ll need thick boots & a raincoat.
Looking forward to seeing you
Yours
Eric
[XVIII, 30
15, p. 328; handwritten]
1
.
Heppenstall had written on 11 June 1946, saying he was pleased Orwell would do something for the BBC in the ‘Imaginary Conversations’ series in November or December. He expected to arrive in Jura about 14 July and (owing to the severe rationing) he would try to help with food: ‘The comparative roughness does not in the least appal me.’ He hoped Orwell’s health was improving and looked forward to seeing him ‘very beefy’.
2
.
Between 1923, when many individual railway companies were ‘grouped,’ and 31 December 1947, when the system was nationalised (as British Rail until its break up in the 1990s) there were four main companies, of which the London, Midland
&
Scottish was one.
3
.
Orwell’s instructions for getting to Barnhill vary from time to time but are hereafter omitted.
Avril Blair* to Humphrey Dakin*
1 July 1946
Barnhill
Isle of Jura
Dear Humph
Glad to hear you & the family are progressing satisfactorily. Congratulate Henry
1
for me when next you write.
This is a lovely place. Why don’t you come up for a bit if you are feeling browned off. The only snag is—no beer, so bring your own if you want any.
This is a very nice farmhouse with five bedrooms & bathroom, two sittingrooms & huge kitchen larders dairies etc. The house faces south & we have a lovely view over the Sound of Jura with little islands dotted here & there. Eric has bought a little boat & we go fishing in the evening which is the time the fish rise. They are simply delicious fresh from the sea. In fact, on the whole we live on the fat of the land. Plenty of eggs & milk & ½ lb butter extra weekly on to our rations. Our landlord
2
gave us a large hunk of venison a short while ago which was extremely good. Then there are local lobsters & crabs. Also the ubiquitous rabbit. Our nearest neighbours are a mile away. Then there is a strip of wild & remote country for eight miles to Ardlussa where our landlord the local estate owner & family live. This is a so called° village, but no shop. The only shop on the island is at Craighouse,
3
the port where the ship calls three times a week. We go to fetch our letters from Ardlussa twice a week in a very delapidated° Ford Van that E has bought. The roads are appalling.
I am really enjoying it all imenseley,° including cooking on a range, with which I had a tremendous battle at first. But having removed two buckets of soot from the flues it now cooks & heats the water a treat. One couldn’t compare this place with Middlesmoor
4
as it is quite different but next to it Middlesmoor seems like Blackpool. The country is lovely with rocky coastline & mountains all down the centre of the island. I am making a serious collection of pressed wild flowers. We have a friend of E’s one Paul Potts staying here. He takes all my shafts of scintillating wit quite seriously & suffers from fits of temperament but I think I am welding him into a more human shape.
5
With love
Avril
[XVIII, 3025, p.337–8; handwritten]
1
.
Avril’s nephew, son of Humphrey and Marjorie Dakin.
2
.
Robin Fletcher, formerly an Eton housemaster; he inherited the Ardlussa Estate, which included Barnhill. He and his wife, later Margaret Nelson, set about restoring the estate and developing crofting. Mrs Nelson’s interview with Nigel Williams for the
BBC
programme
Arena
in 1984 is reproduced in
Orwell Remembered
, pp. 225–29.
3
.
Craighouse is about sixteen miles south of Ardlussa and about three miles from the southern tip of Jura. It was therefore about twenty-three miles south of Barnhill as the crow flies, but Margaret Nelson gives the distance as twenty-seven miles (
Orwell Remembered
, p. 226). Orwell relied on Craighouse for a shop, a doctor, and a telephone.
4
.
A remote village in Nidderdale, Yorkshire, some fourteen miles west of Ripon as the crow flies. The Dakins had a cottage there, described by Marjorie as ‘a magic cottage’ (see
3.10.38
, n. 9).
5
.
Paul Potts (19
11–90), Canadian poet whom Orwell befriended. His chapter, ‘Don Quixote on a Bicycle’ in his
Dante Called you Beatrice
(1960), partially reprinted in
Orwell Remembered
, pp. 248–60, describes Orwell affectionately. He recalls that ‘The happiest years of my life were those during which I was a friend of his’. Avril had been a metal-worker during the war which might explain her use of ‘welding’.
To Sally McEwan*
5 July 1946
Barnhill
Isle of Jura
Dear Sally,
1
So looking forward to seeing you on the 22nd. But I’m very sorry to say you’ll have to walk the last 8 miles because we’ve no conveyance. However it isn’t such a terrible walk if you can make do with rucksack luggage—for instance a rucksack and a couple of haversacks. I can tote that much on the back of my motor bike (only conveyance I have), but not heavy suitcases. Send the food on well in advance so that it is sure to arrive before you. For instance if you sent it off about Monday 15th it would get here on the Friday previous to your arrival. I think I’ve given you all the directions for the journey. Don’t miss the train at Glasgow— it now leaves at 7.55, not 8. When you get to Jura, ask for the hired car at McKechnie’s shop if it doesn’t meet you on the quay. It will take you to Ardlussa where we will meet you. I may be able to arrange for it to take you another 3 miles to Lealt, but sometimes they won’t take their cars past Ardlussa. Yesterday I brought Richard and Susan back (I rang you up when in town but it was your day at the printers), and in that case managed to bribe the driver to go within 2 miles of Barnhill, but he was appalled by the road and I don’t think he’d do it again. I then carried Richard home from there and their luggage was brought on in the crofter’s cart. It’s really a quite pleasant walk if one takes it slowly. You don’t need a great deal in the way of clothes if you have a raincoat and some stout boots or shoes. I hope by that time we shall have a spare pair of gum boots for use in the boat. I don’t know what you’ll do on the train, but on the boats from Gourock and Tarbert it pays to travel 3rd class because there’s no difference in the accomodation° and the food is filthy any way.