Letter 11

Read by Delia Corrie

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April 28 1932 Berlin – Charlottenburg

I was sad to leave my dear Dohnas, particularly the Grafin – Tante Dorothee , but for the first time I enjoyed complete freedom, and I revelled in it!

This is the eighth letter I have written today, but it comes as a relief after the others, because I simply jot down whatever comes into my head and hope it makes sense. I can’t do that with Aunty Nelly, and Aunt Olga and Granny Hop and all the rest. The Tiergarten has turned as green as you can think and I can see an elephant every day through the gate into the Zoo, and what with one thing and another the time is ripe to answer your last and latest. Life Alone in Berlin is one grand picnic – if you except the lack of flies, sticks in the food, leaves in the drink and cross children howling over spilt milk. I keep my larder in the top shelf of my wardrobe so all my hats and clothes smell of cheese and sausage. But this is a minor detail, Fridays I go a-marketing. I am developing a marvellous eye for a bargain. Tante Dorothee says I would make an excellent Hausfrau. This is because she has an unmarried nephew on a vast estate in Hinterpommrn, who, she thinks, would be the better for a charming, intelligent and, incidentally wealthy, English wife. And I hope you recognize the description.

This is a nice room, and a tremendous size for one lone female….One cannot have everything perfect, and Frau Wolffberg WILL come popping in to see how I’m getting on. She comes in to tell me I am better than I was at the beginning of the week, and I don’t say “you silly old fat-head, I should be furious if I weren’t, after six hours work every day.” I smile, and Frau Wolffberg stays and chats which is good for my German and my self-control, but I don’t think of that till after. As for the piano, except that D C A G E stick, it is better than might be, and Gott sei dank! In tune, which the old tin kettle in Potsdam was not.

“Oh to be in England now that April’s here!” I am going to make a valiant effort to take my finishing exam in two years instead of three. Aren’t I a young hopeful? But I feel, by the sweet law of averages, I ought to be in the way of passing one soon. After all, one can but fail and I’m used to that now.

The Grafin is rather shocked because I play the flute every Tuesday evening with a weird creature called Segalle, nationality a mystery. She asked me whether there were a bed in the room. He’s quite nice and provides a heavenly supper. This Tuesday we ate quantities of rolls with a) a layer of butter, b) a layer of sardines, c) a layer of soft cheese, and d) a layer of ham; then push in as big a mouthful as possible to prevent the mound from collapsing. Talking of food, I’ve just made masses of delicious apricot jam out of dried apricots, and there was so much that Frau W. had to give me cups and drinking glasses for it in the end. I must buy some stamps from the chemist. The chemist, I think, must be a poet. He is always vague and walks about the shop with a small green parrot perched on his shoulder.

Somebody in the train (I always talk to people in trains –I’m sure it’s ill-bred but it makes life more cheerful) spent a long time guessing from my accent what part of Germany I came from. On the strength of this sign of my improved German I have bought a new toothbrush!

I am just learning about the internal workings of a harpsichord at the Hochschule. Bach had 20 children, did you know? Or was he having us on? (Prof. Schunemann, I mean, not Bach).