6 April
6 April
6 April 1920
My own precious Bogey
We are motoring to Nice this afternoon - Early lunch in hats & then down come the maids with cushions & rugs for the car - the baby dog is captured "coming for nice tatas with missie" - and he growls with joy. "Has little Murry got her fur?" "Where's Connie?" - You know that kind of upheaval. It reminds me of my early days. May is going to look after me - The others want to shop & I cant rush even if I would so May carrying the baby dog trips along. "Oh Madam! Isn't the little pot ever so sweet - and on a blue tray Madam with just a little cloth not too big and a Mappin & Webb tea service!" I can hear her already. Shes such a little gem, carries the parcels and looks after one beautifully, and the peke sits on her arm. "Now Chinnie, be a good girl, my ducksie-pet!" Does that all sound very strange to you? I love it. I bathe in it - and its all gay & there are flowers and music and sparkling sea and we go & have tea in a queer place and eat ice cream - and little Murry has no choice but must drink chocolate. "L'auto est là Madame."
Later. I'm in bed and have just had supper with brandy for a drink. The drive to Nice is really wonderful Boge, through Roquebrune, Monte, Eze, Villefranche, Beaulieu - but Nice is vile. At least the shops are. I do hate great glaring glittering glass & gold shops where one walks miles to the ascenseur & where the employees look as tho' they lived on 10 francs a month. Mountains of jumpers, haystacks of crepe de chine chemises - ugh! I retired & sat in the car & read the paper. [To J. M. Murry in Collected Letters]