13. FLAVIA ABROAD
Flavia was an exact contemporary of Nicola Lane, the daughter of Florence’s first cousin Diana, whose husband Patrick Lane was in the Diplomatic Service. Between 1958 and 1962, he was the British Consul in Venice, and Flavia used to spend her Easter and summer holidays there to keep Nicola company. The Consulate was on the Grand Canal by the Accademia vaporetto stop and the Consul had his own private launch to travel around Venice. The consul’s main job was to deal with lost passports etc. and to look after Ministers and other VIPs visiting Venice who considered that their importance merited the attention of Her Majesty’s Consul.
Letter 13.1. Flavia Lambert (aged 10) at the British Consulate, Venice, to Sophia Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, London W.8, 13 April 1960.
My dear Sophia, … Last week we went to the mountains which were lovely. The first day we came to a beautiful pine wood with streams, and on the banks there were crocuses and violets and I picked some. The sun went in the evening or afternoon, but we went to a mountain with not such a nice pine wood which ended about three-quarters of the way up, for then the earth turned to rocks and the snow started. I nearly got to the end of the pine wood, but as it was steeper than Aubrey Road and about a mile, I gave up. The next day we drove over the mountains tacking a long cut to Venice. All the way along the road was not covered with a bit of snow, but it was piled up at the side. For lunch we arrived at a skiing hotel called Pecel (I think), it was very big and expensive. … About four hours later we arrived in Venice. Some time after the [South] African Ambassador arrived, and then his children, who were fifteen and seventeen, and us were taken to the glass islands [Murano] and whatched a rose and four glass horses being made (we were given the horses). I met the Bishop of Bathanwells and his wife and whatched him saying mass in an English church (Protistant). He looks like a cross between a monkey and a toad. I have seen a museum about ships and there I saw a copy of the dodge’s gold ship and the original arms of Napolian and lots of other things. Caelia’s flick knife will cost L. 1,600. Love from Flavia ----------------------------------------------------
Letter 13.2. Flavia Lambert at the British Consulate, Venice, to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 28 August 1960.
Dear Mummy, It’s so hot!! Sweat is pouring down my face and the tempreture is 100 in the shade. Well, from the description you know it’s a sharoco. In about five minutes I will have to go to church and listen to a boring sermon in a hot church – oh so interesting. Other from this I am having a lovely time bathing from the launch and on the Lido where they have lovely water-slides and the water is a beautiful tempreture. Well, now I’ve got to go to church, so I will continue later. It was a high mass. Oh, Mummy, I’m so hot. You’re so lucky to be hit by torrents of rain, tornedos and whirlwinds, and then you will go off to cool Switzerland, but after that you will suffering, but there are ice creams, so refreshing and such a nice taste, it hypnotises you. I had a double one after church and whatched boys bathing in the canal. Joserphine’s¹ cat has three more kittens, they are all tabby. Yesterday I went to see them and a man from the Tatler came and took the Lanes’, Penelope’s² and my pictures. … On the Lido I met the Minester of Transport, Mr Marples in other words, and another one; and I saw a film star being photergraphed, though I can’t go to the film festival because children are not allowed. Diana went to see The Apartment from the Americans and the English are going to have Tunes of Glory with Alec Guinness and I may see him. Love, Flavia
¹Josephine Paterson, an old family friend, was living in Venice with her husband Robert and several cats, in a flat in the Palazzo Bonlin near San Trovaso, not far from the Consulate. She earned their living by giving English lessons and Robert composed ballets that were never performed. Members of the family used to stay with her frequently. ² Penelope Boscawen was employed by the Lanes as a governess for Nicola, so that she did not have to be sent back to school in Britain.
-------------------------------------------------
In 1961, Sophia (who was on holiday in England from her studies in Paris) volunteered to take Flavia to Venice on the train, as she was going there herself with an old schoolfriend, Jocelyn Newman, to stay with Josephine Paterson.
Letter 13.3. Sophia Lambert at the Palazzo Bonlin, San Trovaso 1113, Venice, to Florence Lambert at Falkedon, Spreyton, Devon, 6 August 1961
Chère M., Knowing you will probably desire me to recount all our numerous adventures in getting to Venice, here goes. On the train from London to Newhaven, as Daddy may have informed you, we were accompanied by plusieurs dizaines d’écoliers français, who, like all écoliers français, made an entirely unnecessary amount of noise. They followed us on board the boat, but finally we freed ourselves of them by the simple expedient of going below decks where your thoughtful daughter had taken the precaution of reserving berths at 5/- a time. I went to sleep, but Jocelyn and Flavia tossed and turned (according to them) and made frequent visits to the deck where the obnoxious écoliers were continuing their noises. At about three in the morning we disembarked and got on a train. There were two perfectly frightful Australian females in the compartment who would keep talking about “our husbands”, whom they had left behind because they didn’t like the traffic in Paris. And at about six in the morning we arrived in Paris. We went into a café and had breakfast, and then we went and sat on the banks of the Seine by Nôtre Dame. The tourists, thank goodness, had not yet arisen to invade Paris, but the rest of the day the city was quite unrecognisable [Sophia was not normally in Paris in August]. We wandered from café to café, Flavia consuming endless coca-colas, but they must have done her some good because she behaved extraordinarily well, not a complaint or cross word the whole journey. At nine o’clock in the evening we got our train to Venice, with couchettes in it! In our compartment there was an extraordinary family, an Italian who had just married a French girl, his sister and his old mother, who must have come to Paris to marry them or chaperone them. I don’t know whether it was their first night or not, but they slept on the top couchettes and held hands across the space. Jocelyn claims that he kept jumping across the space, but I was asleep. He spoke very good French for an Italian, with practically no accent. The passport people came in at six in the morning and an Italian couchette official came and told us to get up at half past seven. We took no notice and redrew the blinds. Half an hour later he came in again in a terrible temper and started putting up the couchettes. We arrived in Venice, were met by Penelope and given a gorgeous lunch by Josephine. Since then, we have been spending half our time entertaining the Navy. Two destroyers and a submarine came up the Grand Canal and around every corner one seems to meet a white-clad sailor in a state of slight inebriation. The first night we went to a party on board one of the ships, where I talked to a lot of officers, who were like a lot of officers on any ship or in any service [Sophia, at 18, was going through a worldly-wise phase]. Jocelyn, however, seemed to like one of them; anyway, for the last few days she has been going for rides in gondolas and to the Lido with him. I think the main attraction is the rides in gondolas and the Lido. The only trouble is that he looks like Bill Huxtable [an American friend and contemporary of her father], which put me off no end. However, he got us both invited to a film on board, pretty ghastly, The FBI Story, with lots of Americans disporting themselves like two-year-olds. But as I was sitting next to an American girl, I had to suppress my laughter at their antics. Poor Patrick has been practically broke, they have been drinking so much every time there is a do at the Consulate. Yesterday Josephine entertained fifteen sailors, who stayed from 6.30 to 9.45, solidly drinking beer. We were most surprised, when finally we chased them away, that there were still one and a half bottles of beer left. Josephine had all the children (Flavia, Nicola and Beatrice [a friend of Nicola]) to entertain them, and provided them with coca-cola. The sailors were more interesting than the officers, for you heard what they thought of the officers, and whether their wives were unfaithful to them while they were away. … Diana and Patrick are extremely busy at the moment, and Penelope takes the children out every day to the Lido, where they bathe from the French Consul’s front-row Excelsior beach cabana. I went yesterday and chased crabs with Flavia, as Jocelyn had gone off with her officer. Josephine, who has been ill (clot in her leg) is now fully recovered and just the same as ever, full of the most colourful, but I feel most highly inaccurate scandals about everybody. Robert as boring as ever. He will come up and kiss me on the forehead. John Rickett [Director of Sotheby’s and friend of Florence] is here, staying at Cipriani’s. He has, by quoting David’s name, obtained the use of the Shell launch, and he is always turning up at the Consulate at unearthly hours and offering to take Flavia out. Love, Sophia -----------------------------------------------
Letter 13.4. Flavia Lambert (aged 11) at the British Consulate, Venice, to Florence Lambert in London, 10 August 1961.
Dear Mummy, …The weather is boiling and we are all doing nothing. Yesterday we went to the Lido, the cabana [beach hut] we have is front row and belongs to the French Consul. We don’t go to the Lido every day, but on averidge every other day. Yesterday the tide brought in a lot of suage and muck, among it a dead kitten. The Navy were here a few days ago, two very small destroyers and a submarine called Totom, so the Lanes gave a party where lots of sailors arrived. They were all very nice except the tipsy one who took me off to a corner and explained to me the evils of the world. When Penelope went to a party on the submarine (he came from it), they were very apoligetic and asked her to point him out but she wouldn’t. Joserphine also gave one, but the sailors weren’t tipsy at all. I had a nice Irishman to talk to. Later on this morning Mr Marples, the Minister of Transport, is coming for drinks, also I met King Peter, exiled King of Yugoslavia, also we go bathing with his son, Crown Prince, Alexander of Yugoslavia¹. Our pet name for him is Surz . Diana gave your message to Sophia, who is very well. I wish I could go back by Airoplane, I hated the journey by train! Love, Flavia P.S. I met the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. ¹ Crown Prince Alexander of Yugoslavia, b.1945. Son of Peter II of Yugoslavia, who fled Yugoslavia in 1941 to form a government in exile in London, where Prince Alexander was born. He was brought up chiefly by his maternal grandmother, the morganatic widow of King Alexander I of Greece, who had a house in Venice, where Prince Alexander used to spend much of his school holidays. He was often alone in the house apart from servants and seems to have enjoyed the girls’ company, even though he was a few years older than them. He was called “Sirs” by Flavia and Nicola because, as a prince, he was always addressed as “Sir”. --------------------------------------------------
Letter 13.5. Sophia Lambert at the Palazzo Bonlini,, to Florence Lambert at Spreyton, 13 August 1961
… We [Sophia and Jocelyn] had lunch yesterday at the Consulate, and Diana was telling us all about the Queen’s visit and the Windsors, who are here at the moment. Flavia is being reasonably good, except for one day when she was rude to everyone, including another royal, the Crown Prince of Yugoslavia, who is a boy of sixteen they go swimming with. Flavia asked him where he got that “horrible bathing costume”, to which he replied that his mother had made it. Apparently one does not criticise the handiwork of ex-queens, and this didn’t go down at all well. [In fact, after the initial shock had worn off, the Crown Prince seems rather to have enjoyed meeting someone who did not treat him with awe, as Flavia subsequently saw a lot of him in Venice.] … --------------------------------------------
Letter 13.6. Flavia Lambert at the British Consulate, Venice, to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 12 April 1962.
Dear Mummy, I hope you have found out who is meeting me at the airport. I would hate to see you had up for not accompanying me to the airport and back (bitter sarcasm). We are seeing lots of Serz and his grandmother the late Queen of Greece. The Queen of Roumania is also here, but I have not seen her yet. Patrick has decided to keep all my money, so I have to go and ask him for money. Thank goodness he doesn’t ask me what I am going to spend it on, otherwise he would find out about the flicknife. Yesterday we went to San Giorgio with Serz and Sophia and we went up the campernili. Then we went up the other campernili in St Mark’s Square, but there was a much better view from San Giorgio. Today I hope to go to the old witch [a witch-like old lady in a pottery shop that still exists off Campo San Stefano] with Sophia and try and bargain with her. The weather is not very nice but perhaps today it will turn nicer. Sophia is going through the alphabet writing letters and postcards. She threatened to write to Penny Cuthbertson – she is that awful deb who alleges that Sophia tried to push her off the Eiffel Tower [Sophia has no recollection of this incident]. She is an awful snob and says she only goes out with princes and we all hate her. You must remember to collect lots and lots of stamps for me in the various countries you are visiting and of course don’t forget my sheepskin rugs [Michael and Florence were about to embark on their tour of the Middle East]. Nicola and I are doing a play, called God’s Anachy, but it’s all very secret and it’s ment to be a surprise, so don’t go writing to Diana telling her about it. Sophia is staying for Easter, whether you or she likes it, it’s my turn to see her, you are spoilt, that’s what the matter with you. With love from Flavia ----------------------------------------------- This is the play mentioned in the above letter.
A drawing of Flavia by Nicola
Letter 13.7. Flavia Lambert at the British Consulate, Venice, to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 19 April 1962.
…Today, Josephine took me to the washing of the feet in San Trovaso, and we saw all the old cronies’ nobbly feet full of corns and athletes foot. One man had garters to hold his socks. Josephine is going to do the round of the seven churches with us tomorrow; I think Nicola and I only come because of the prospect of a hot chocolate or coca-cola at the end. Every single day except today Surz has rung up and asked if he can come round and play with us; he really is very young for his age (17) because he takes obvious delight in playing with us. I hope you are arranging money matters. I need £2 for my season ticket; 15/- for pocket money and whatever you think suitable for cinema, buses etc. and 10/- for school sweets. Caelia, I am sure, wants even more, so if I find you haven’t left any money, all the sheep-skin rugs in the world will not appease my anger, indignation, etc. The weather is improving. Today it was lovely, lots of sun, and Penelope, some friends of hers called Russell and me went to San Giorgio and fed the deer with grass, climbed the capanili, went over the church and whatched boys play football. Nicola did not come because she had a cold. Surz has some walkie-talkies which you can contact each other with, but it only works when there is no object obstructing the waves. It has a radius of 10 mls. We hope to try it from the campanilis. Remember Money. Lots of love, Flavia -------------------------------------------------------- In the summer holiday of 1962, as part of an exchange, Flavia was sent off for a short stay in France to improve her French. She stayed with the de Boyssons, one of the families with whom Sophia had lodged in Paris, at their château in the Poitou.
Letter 13.8. Flavia Lambert (aged 12), Château de Roches, Roches Prémarie, Vienne, to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 23 August 1962
Dear Mummy, … As usual, we are going bathing today, this time in the pool of a very pretty château a kilometre from Roches Prémarie. It is very dirty and has masses of tadpoles and flies and dead butterflies floating on top. The water is freezing, but I bear it with clenched teeth. … There is a swing and bar in the garden and you can do acrobatics on it (the bar). Madame and Monsieur de Boysson have violent quarrels every other day, but about what I never understand. … Madame de Boysson has two maids, Jinette and Geneviève, but only Jinette lives in the house. They are both very nice. Jinette does the cooking and it is quite good. I have not yet tasted Madame de Boysson’s cooking. But one thing she seems to know about is cheese. There is always a very large variety of cheese. Yesterday evening we had a cream cheese which was completely white and like thick cream. It was very good. I am counting the days to my return to London because it will be my birthday. You must hint at this fact to everyone so they will give me presents. …
The village of Roches Prémarie is very small with one grocer and a post office. There is also an inn and pub. Rosalynd and Marie-Soline [daughters of the family] spend most of their time bicycling with their friends and I either play patience or do my tapestry (very boring). Love, Flavia --------------------------------------------------------
Letter 13.9. Flavia Lambert, Château de Roches, to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 27 August 1962
Dear Mummy, Please, please will you write me lots of letters. So far I have had one from you and one from Daddy… I have had a letter from Monique [schoolfriend] and she says that her canary has laid and hatched four chicks! It would happen to her and not to me, but I intend to get a pair of budgerigars that lay fertile eggs. I hope Pepita [Sophia’s cat] is looking full of kittens and my fish have had another brood with some males this time. On Sunday I went to a fête at a château, I can’t remember the name. It was not like an English fête because the main attraction was rather bad dancing, but the side stalls were not bad. I bought a mask which had red hair… and looked rather like one of the ugly sisters. There was a stall which sold pancakes, which you never see in England. I of course ate millions. In all these fêtes the custom seems to be to throw confetti over everyone, so I bought some and plagued Rosalynd and her sister for the rest of the afternoon. The weather today is horrible. It is raining and freezing, unlike yesterday when it was very hot and not a cloud in the sky. In fact, I think we are getting a touch of English weather. Tomorrow, Rosalynd’s brother, her mother, sister and friend and brother are coming, so the chateau will be really full but I hope rather fun. Madame de Boysson has changed all the bedrooms and Anne [the slightly older girl who had stayed with the Lamberts in London as the otther part of the exchange] is not sleeping in my bedroom but in another. I have discovered there are lots and lots of rooms in this house I didn’t know of. I intend to bring some cheese for my private consumption, but I might bring you home a Camembert, though I am quite sure you could buy one if you wanted to. I can’t think of anything more to say, but remember, remember the 11th of September [her birthday]. Lots of love from Flavia -------------------------------------------------
Flavia had inherited Florence’s love of collecting butterflies and would go out catching them wherever she was staying. All the children used to keep caterpillars, whose chrysalises would hatch out at inopportune moments.
Letter 13.10. Flavia Lambert, Château de Roches, to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, London, 30 August 1962
Dear Mummy, At last you have written. I was getting very impatient. The St Maurs arrived yesterday and Rosalynd’s brother Xavier and the Château is full of life. Anne is sleeping in my room and I stayed up talking to Anne until 10.15. --- Anne taught me to play French croquet. It is terribly easy because the hoops are 9 inches wide and not very far apart. The mallets and balls are terribly light compared to ours and I keep hitting the ball too hard. Like our lawn, the grass is terribly bumping and with large holes where rabbits have started digging. Your ball continually gets stuck in one of them. I wish I had been in Falkedon to see the tortoiseshell butterflies hatch and seen UG’s face when he began to see butterflies! [The children’s Uncle George was normally known as UG, pronounced to rhyme with hug.] Here I have caught 6 brimstones (male and female), 6 orange clouded yellows, 3 yellow clouded yellows, 1 swallowtail, 1 fritillary and 3 butterflies I don’t know the name of. I hope to catch another swallowtail…. Madame de Boysson is ill in bed with what she calls a fever. I think it is the result of a violent quarrel she had with Monsieur de Boysson over the making of some screens. And now her room is cluttered with people talking to her. The first thing I will do when I get back to England is to have a bath, because I am beginning to feel rather dirty because it is terribly difficult to wash completely in a basin and rather a bore because it takes so long. There are lots of horrible mosquitoes and when I catch butterflies I go into a field full of thistles without any socks because socks are so difficult to wash. As a result, my legs are covered with red spots and mosquito bites. Both itch terribly. I listen to the news on my wireless in the evening because it is impossible to get England in the daytime, but yesterday I missed it due to talking to Anne. I am longing to get back home and please what is the word after ‘lots of love, darling & kisses & ----’ – it looks like lungs. Lots of love and lungs, Flavia P.S. Write and remember my birthday. ----------------------------------------------
Letter 13.11. Flavia Lambert, Château de Roches, to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, London W.8, 6 September 1962
Dear Mummy, … I am longing to get home and have my birthday, and then all your daughters will be teenagers!! It is a very good idea to take me out and give me caviare and smoked salmon [the latter then a rare and expensive treat]. You must pass the word around the family and I might get a present from somebody. The de Boyssons are giving a dance tomorrow in a room which has been changed into a dance hall from a dirty stable. We all painted the doors, windows and chairs yesterday, though Anne’s sister and brother kept dancing a new dance called the Madison. We are sixteen people in the house, but Mme De Boysson still seems able to supply us with plenty of food and jolly good food too. I literally stuff myself with it because I am starving after staying with Mme de Nanteuil, but now I am feeling much better. I have spent hardly any of my five pounds because there is nothing to spend it on but sweets, stamps and things at fêtes, but I will buy something nice in Paris. Love from Flavia ---------------------------------------------
In the autumn of 1964, when she was just 15 and had completed her O-levels, Flavia left More House, the convent school in London that all three of Michael and Florence’s daughters had attended, and was sent off for a year to her mother’s old convent school in Florence to learn Italian. Her experience was not as intense as Florence’s had been, as she spent her weekends at the beautiful medieval villa in Piazza San Francesco di Paola (generally known as San Francesco) of family friends, Harry and Fiona Brewster.
Letter 13.12. Flavia Lambert at the Istituto del Sacro Cuore in Florence to Michael Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 8 October 1964
… Yesterday [when staying with the Brewsters], I read Lady Chatterley’s Lover. I see why some people objected to it, but somehow it only made me feel rather solemn. But really it’s good literature. I’m now reading Lolita. It’s very interesting to compare the two. I infinitely prefer Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Lolita is rather heavy and not much diversion and rather too much psychology. One of the Italian girls insisted on reading Lady C. Luckily she didn’t understand much, but she insisted on me telling her the swear words, but I was not forced to explain them, which would have been a little too much for my present knowledge of Italian. Perhaps you are surprised at my literature. But all these books are to be found in my room at San Francesco. Lots of Love, Flavia ----------------------------------------------------
Letter 13.13. Flavia Lambert at the Istituto del Sacro Cuore in Florence to Michael Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, London, 20 October 1964
Dear Daddy, Thank you for your letter, it was very kind of you to write so soon. Actually, this letter is meant for both of you, but it does not really matter as I know Mummy will read it anyway. First and most important of all, you have not given me nearly enough money; my Italian friends are very shocked at how little it is, and at the moment I am left with 4,000 lire with which to buy 6,000 worth of books, so I am going to have to borrow some money. As for my accounts, of the other 6,000 lire, 1,000 went on a taxi to the school when I was late (not my fault, because I was told the wrong times of the bus) and the other 5,000 I gave to Fiona to buy my tea for one week only (4,000 a month goes on my tea), and also a comb, writing paper and stamps and she says there is very little change left. Therefore, I must have at least 20,000 lire a month and possibly more (please), because at this rate I will have no more money left at all and I have to buy Christopher [Harry and Fiona’s small son] a birthday present and I really do not have the money so I really am urgent – PLEASE SEND MORE MONEY…. Florence is absolutely FREEZING. At the moment it is 3º centigrade outside, which is colder than it is in London. Heating is unheard of in this school and we go around dressed in literally three jumpers, plus the school uniform, plus masses of woollen underwear. And I don’t know anything about this wonderful Florentine autumn climate, so boo-haa-sucks to Mummy. Oh yes, and in your next letter, please send me lots of news about the General Election, as it was only yesterday that I heard who had won it, let alone how many seats, and of course I don’t know any other world news as I get only one English newspaper a week and that is the one I buy on Saturday. Also, in this convent, no outside news ever reaches one and now I really know what it is like to be shut up in a convent, because one really is literally closed off from the rest of the world and one never sees or hears anything from the outside, and it is worse as the convent is not next to any houses, but on top of a hill away from everything. However, the weekends are bliss, but oh! so short. On Saturday evening I was invited to dinner by the British Consul. He was a typical English bachelor, very tall, baggy trousers, smokes a pipe, wears a monocle and tells jokes that he laughs at himself. The other people were nearly all English. One, a girl, was very nice. The others were very different. There was one young man, about 26, who had been at school with Georgie¹. I can’t remember his name, but I spent a long time talking to him. He hated society, lived in Devon in something Bishop, perhaps Cheriton Bishop, but I can’t remember. He adored opera, and therefore as my knowledge of opera was not completely nil I was able to converse quite successfully with him. There was another younger boy with golden curls who was a relation to John Buchan…All the other people were much older and I did not talk to them. The convent is just like a military school, everything done in lines and masses of bells. Life is absolutely monotonous, there is absolutely no variation, we do exactly the same thing every day at exactly the same time, very, very boring. The Italian girls are quite nice, completely different from the English girls because they manage to be mature at one moment, that is wear make-up and talk about boys etc., but at the other moment they are throwing water at each other. They are also very forward; what I mean is that they often embrace you and go round holding hands. One girl kissed me only five minutes after she met me. A bit exaggerated, I thought…. All my love, Flavia
¹ George Lambert junior (1941-1999). Flavia’s first cousin, the son of her uncle George Lambert. He had been at school at Harrow. He was later killed in a car accident. --------------------------------------------
Letter 13.14. Flavia Lambert at the Istituto del Sacro Cuore in Florence to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, London, 28 October 1964
Dear Mummy, Thank you for all those letters; I’m flabbergasted at your hard work and am beginning to feel very guilty. Also, thanks for the news about the General Election; I was longing to hear about it, as here I am completely cut off, especially in the convent where no news ever gets through. Apparently, when President Kennedy was assassinated, they did not hear about it until a day later when the headmistress told them to pray for someone who had been killed, but they had to ask her who it was. You may as well know that I hate boarding school, and at the moment I feel like running away. The main reason why I don’t like it is because it is so boring. … I don’t understand a thing in the lessons and also I don’t have to do the homework and therefore I spend the major part of the seven-odd hours given to us just to do study twiddling my thumbs, for Italian girls have heaps and heaps of study and only do lessons in the morning, while they spend the whole afternoon (2-5), the whole evening (5.30-7.30) studying, plus 2 hours before breakfast. … As for information about the convent, it seems much the same as in your day. We can either get up at 6.30 or 7.10. But as I am woken up at 6.30 by the noiseless rising of my Italian companions, I usually get up then. The dormitory is a long, needless to say marble-floored, room with about 30-40 beds in it. Each bed has a private wash-basin (very civilised) with lukewarm water in the evening and cold in the morning. You are completely in private, as one side of your bed is a wall, another a wooden partition and the two others curtain. The meals are also quite good. Apparently the food has vastly improved since last year as so many of the parents complained. I am already much fatter and will probably end up very enormous. The weekends are bliss compared to the week; and as all the other girls hate this school, we pass the time by counting the minutes and hours towards the end of the week. At San Francesco everybody is very nice. … Last week Clo-Clo [Harry’s sister Clothilde Peploe, a painter and a close friend of Florence] took me to a lecture on Michelangelo at the Palazzo Vecchio, given by Sir Kenneth Clark [well-known art historian] in Italian. I did not understand a word, but they provided nice free alcohol and eats afterwards. I was also introduced to lots of suitable old Italian ladies and various other important people in Florence like the Mayor. … Lots of love, Flavia -------------------------------------------
Letter 13.15. Flavia Lambert at the Istituto del Sacro Cuore to Michael Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 19 November 1964
Dear Daddy, Thank you for your letter and postcard. I feel very honoured that you thought of me. By the way, the above address is how it is spelt for future reference. Life here is still ghastly and the Italian language seems very distant. It seems as though I have been here for ages and therefore should know a lot of Italian; however, really it is only a month and ten days. The Italian girls are all very nice and tell me that I speak a lot of Italian, but the proof is in the hearing and I still don’t understand anything during the lessons. However, I must not give up hope. Last Tuesday something out of the ordinary happened – what a surprise! The school had organised various methods of raising money. They showed a film in the common room about a priest who went to a leper colony. It was the usual good turning bad sort with the priest being the cause. In the end he, himself, catches leprosy and dies badly deformed. Then a miracle occurs and all the scars disappear. All the Italians, being of a sentimental nature, came out with tears streaming down their faces. Then they provided a tea which we had to pay for also. It consisted of pizze, chestnuts, coca-cola and bombolini, which are rather delicious home-made dough-nuts. It was on the whole quite fun as we missed lots of work. One thing about this school which is better than More House is that they give a great many holidays. They gave us three days for half-term, and now they are giving us two-and-a-half days for the municipal elections here in Florence. Then at Christmas they are giving us three weeks; so much for Mummy’s guess of one week. I’m afraid the nuns are not too pleased with me at the moment. We spend most of our time in silence and silence does not agree with me, as you most probably have experienced – so, I talk. There is one nun whom I absolutely HATE. She has a thick black moustache and is very small. She enforces most of the discipline and also keeps the dormitory. Last Wednesday, we had marked disagreements. She didn’t approve of the way I made my bed, which I may say is a perfectly orthodox way, except I don’t take all the sheets off the bed. So I had to make it again, all with her watching me like a hawk. Then she started rummaging around my cubicle and, when she came to the basin, she ran her finger round the rim and then pointed it menacingly into my face and said that it was dirty – the finger looked perfectly clean to me. Anyhow, being a simple girl willing to please anybody, I washed the spotless basin. Then she said that I had to dry it. I innocently asked what with and she replied my foot towel. Foot towel of all things!!! I would have thought that once washed, your feet should be as clean as your hands or face. Perhaps Italians don’t clean their feet properly and are in need of an extra towel. However, I chose my dirtiest towel and dried the basin. That, thank goodness, was all she made me do, but really!!!…. Lots of love from Flavia -----------------------------------------------------
Letter 13.16. Flavia Lambert at Piazza San Francesco di Paola in Florence to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 21 November 1964
Dear Mummy, …Fiona has found a record-player which she likes which costs 36,000 lire, but as we promised to pay all in one go, they are giving it to us for 30,000. This is extremely cheap for battery record players in Italy, as they are very expensive here. I went to the biggest electrician in Florence and the cheapest was 35,000 lire. So please could you send a cheque for 40,000 lire payable to Fiona, for she also wants 10,000 to pay my school fees. (Please quick, I’m broken-hearted at being separated for so long from my beloved records.) On Saturday, Harry took me to an extraordinary party at the British Consulate. There was a great shortage of young men. There was only one under 35, whom I luckily knew. He is called Edmund Fairfax-Lucy, and yesterday he came to San Francesco to tea. In the middle of the party at the Consulate, a troupe of the most terrible English girls came in. I have never in my whole life seen anything as absolutely foul as them. They were all about sixteen or seventeen and their attempts at being fashionable were heartrending. I had a very amusing conversation with Edmund on Sunday about them. At one time he was completely surrounded by all ten of these girls, but he managed to escape them in the end by saying he had to circulate…. I am now taken out regularly to see the “beauties” of Florence. Last time we went to the gardens of Boboli. As you know, it is on a series of very steep hills and the person who accompanies me is very fat, and unkind me made her climb all the steepest hills. She was very, very tired at the end and she emphatically told me that never again would she take me there…. Last night I dreamt that I was expelled from the convent for talking too much – I wonder if it will come true – Lots of love from Flavia ------------------------------------------------------------
Letter 13.17. Flavia Lambert at the Istituto del Sacro Cuore to Michael Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, London W.8, 17 February 1965
Dear Mummy, Thank you for your letter and the books, all of which I received on Saturday last. I have already read The Leopard, the English translation, that is – I’m afraid I found it very depressing, it seemed to make life very depressing. Life rolls on here – I have sunk into a state where I do not care what happens any more. England seems very far away, anyhow not near enough to imagine. In fact I am a little frightened to go back after such a long period of absence. I know to you five months is a very short period, but to me and my friends it is a surprisingly large percentage of our life during which a person can change completely. I know that when I get back either I or my friends will have changed completely. School is rather ghastly and I am getting very fed up with it. The amount of homework they give you is ridiculous – today the Italian mistress gave us a whole canto of Dante to learn by heart, the whole one hundred and fourteen lines of it! They must think we are marathon learners or something. Another aspect of life which is rather unpleasant at the moment is the temperature. It is absolutely freezing. I am sure it can’t be colder in London because here the temperature is below freezing and there is ice on the water even in daytime. I also freeze in bed – I sleep with a jumper, vest and dressing gown and I still don’t seem to get any warmer. Julian [Barran, her first cousin who was living in Italy] is coming to Florence tomorrow – I sent him a telegram telling him that as I was going to Greece for Easter I could not go to Rome. He sent one back saying “Definitly coming”. I am still wondering whether it was his or the Post Office’s spelling… Madre Carlevaris has very kindly given me two days off from school and I am leaving tomorrow lunchtime – thank goodness. He is staying in San Francesco and you are paying for his bed and breakfast as he is paying for all my meals which we are having out. I rather suspect he is going to make a loss, knowing my appetite… I wrote in Daddy’s letter about my troubles with this Italian boy and thank goodness I think he has got the hint as on Sunday I filled him with details about my English boyfriend, but he is still incredibly thick and it took both me and Nicoletta [one of her friends from the convent] to persuade him that I had an English boyfriend, and that therefore I was not interested in him as a boyfriend. He seemed to expect me to go out with him and have the same feelings for my English boyfriend at the same time. Really it is very annoying, why can’t one have a flirt with an Italian and not be expected to become his steady. Anyhow, he took me to an Italian party on Sunday and I’m afraid that after that party my opinion of Italians is absolutely rock bottom. To begin with, there wasn’t one single boy who was the slightest [bit] good-looking and I thought Italy had a handsome race. And the games they played….!!! God, never have I been to a more ridiculous, futile, babyish party in my whole life, never. The first game they played was just stupid: the girls had to pass a wooden spoon from chin to chin, without dropping the spoon, but the second – my God it was so ridiculous I don’t think I have ever laughed so much in my life. It involved the boys. We were dancing in couples and the first thing they had to do was to roll up their trouswers and expose their legs – you should have seen those legs! Some of them had great matted black hair sticking out at least two inches and those horrible great bulging calves – ugh, it was disgusting. The next thing they had to do was to take their coats off, put them around the girls’ shoulders (pooh! I can still smell that coat) and take off their ties. Then they had to take their shirts from their trousers. Well, as you can imagine, one of the most ridiculous positions for a boy is to have his shirt hanging out and his trousers rolled up – I can tell you, I just couldn’t stop laughing, I nearly died. But they weren’t finished yet. The next thing was to lift up their respective girls and start dancing – well, thin and light as I may look, I weigh over nine stone (don’t gasp and faint, Cloe [daughter of Clo-Clo Peploe and old schoolfriend of Flavia] who is the same figure as me weighs the same) and, when my partner tried to lift me, he dropped me. Nicoletta was also there – I can tell you she had a good laugh! So I am afraid that Italy is just not the country for me – I am much too familiar and much too mature (hope you notice the latter word!)…. All my friends are being very faithful and writing me long letters. As you can imagine, most of them are full of the other sex, but at the moment that is what interests. I mean I have enough of my own here to keep me going for at least another few years, but I’m afraid they make me feel very homesick…. Since you sent those pills, my catarrh is much better – thank goodness. I have also learnt a rude Italian word today: chiavare = fuck. I hope Madre Carlevaris doesn’t read this letter, she might not approve! But she never reads letters to parents. Lots of love, Flavia ----------------------------------------
Letter 13.18. Flavia Lambert at the Istituto del Sacro Cuore to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 22 February 1965
Dear Mummy, Here I am writing to you as promised. We have shorthand at the moment and I don’t do it, so I am taking advantage of the free time and catching up on all my letter writing. Actually my correspondence is quite extensive at the moment: I receive five to six letters a week and therefore I have to write about seven and it takes a long time to write letters. … Actually, there is very little news indeed, nothing ever happens here in Florence and this school is absolutely stagnant, but I will try and lengthen any news. Last weekend I got two days off school and Julian arrived. … For supper, we went to a little trattoria, which was good and very cheap. I drank a whole litre of wine and I still didn’t get drunk. I was furious because I have never yet been drunk and I am longing to find out what it feels like. … Then on Saturday we took a train to Siena. It certainly is very impressive and beautiful, built on that very steep hill with the Duomo on the summit, rather like something out of a fairy-book. I think it is more beautiful that Florence because it was completely like something out of the Middle Ages with those narrow winding streets. We didn’t actually see much, only the Duomo, the museum next to it with those pictures by some famous artist [Duccio] – they were part of an altar. We also climbed to the very top of the campanile, right up to the bell, and there was a lovely view of the city and the country for miles around, as it was beautifully clear. There were four hundred stairs. I picked up some Italians who acted as guides and paid for our fares into the campanile, and they thought Julian and I were engaged!! My God, what a thought. Then, when I started talking they thought I was Italian – smirk, smirk!! Actually, it was only because I had a good accent and they hadn’t yet heard any of my blundering mistakes. That persecutor Bepe rang up again, really he is extremely rude as I expressly told him I was going out with my cousin and on no account would I be able to come out with him, and he went and rang me up to find out if I could go out with him. I am beginning to loathe him more and more, he is so repulsive in his behaviour in chasing me. He never gives me one moment’s peace. Anyhow, I was pretty cold to him and I pray he has taken the hint. On Sunday I had a girl from the college to lunch [at San Francesco] and then afterwards we went to tea with the Colaccichis [he was an art historian, old friend of Florence] for tea. They were all very well and just the same. On the way home from the station I had a little trouble with some boys and nearly called a policeman. In the end I just ran and, as I can run faster than them, I had lost them by the time I had crossed the Arno. Boys! Lots of love, Flavia -----------------------------------------------------
In the spring of 1965, Florence and Michael took Sophia and Flavia on a tour of the Peloponnese (Caelia was in Colombia).
Letter 13.19. Flavia Lambert C/o Mrs Harry Brewster, Piazza San Francesco di Paola 3, Florence, to Michael Lambert, 2 Aubrey Road, 13 May 1965
Dear Daddy, Thanks very much for the record which arrived today – it is a fabulous record, well up to Beatle standards, but I won’t bother you with such details, knowing that they won’t interest you, but thanks all the same. I must also say thank you very much indeed for taking me on the Greek holiday – it was a lovely holiday and the oranges brought up on silver salvers, well not silver, but on plates anyway, were very much appreciated [this was probably when they were staying at the Hotal Grande Bretagne in Athens]. I had a gorgeous time too, especially the castles, which were great fun, just like something out of a fairy story. Even though I didn’t find a tortoise, it doesn’t really matter because Alexander would most probably have been jealous [Alexander was a tortoise that Sophia had brought back from Greece some years earlier and who lived in London for some 30 years, first in the garden of Aubrey Road and then in Flavia’s garden in Islington]. … God, how I am longing to get back home, only just over six weeks more. I have even booked my ticket. You know the thing I really loathe about Italy is the street boys of Florence. Everytime, just everytime I go out, boys follow me. When I go on the bus in the morning, there is a boy who follows me all the way to San Francesco, every single morning, because he takes the same bus as me. He walks along chatting amiably to me while I have to pretend I am all alone. Then in the afternoon, a very ugly boy on a motorcycle follows me along the pavement on the ruddy machime trying to pick me up and then tries to talk to me while I am waiting for the bus. It is terribly embarrassing, because there are a whole lot of other boys and girls there who take the same bus as me and they are all laughing, I am not quite sure at which of us. My God, how I long to be able to walk down the street absolutely unnoticed. It is not that I can help having red hair – that’s your fault. Now I know what it’s like to be a famous pop-star or film-star. I wouldn’t change places with the Beatles for anything in the world – well, not quite anything, but you know what I mean. Life at San Francesco is quite as usual; everyone is jogging on all right. Christopher is being a little devil (I just can’t believe I was worse than him), and Fiona and Harry are fine. Next week Clo-Clo is coming. Mummy has just rung up and I have had a long talk with her. She seems to be fine; I hope her operation [for a cyst on her spine] goes all right. I will go to Mass on Sunday especially for her – and that, I might tell you, is a great sacrifice; I didn’t go last Sunday but did Dante [for her Italian A-level]. My Italian teacher is very nice. She is young and has four small boys, which is more than Fiona or Harry. It is a great relief that she is nice, because that is very important when one spends three hours a day with her. The first one was an old ogre – thank God she couldn’t take me. This one spoils me terribly (and don’t say everyone does), giving me coca-colas in the middle of each lesson, which as you can imagine makes me in a very good mood. I have been reading a lot lately. I have fallen in love with Wilde and Shaw and am reading all of them that I can get hold of. Why don’t you have a library like the Brewsters? All you have is history and political books, which is just not up my street! I can’t help it if I am not like Sophia and all intellectual – I am just not made that way. Poor Daddy, having to put up with your typical teenage daughter who deafens everybody with Beatles music and raves about good-looking (non-Italian) boys. It must be quite a shock after my two sisters. Oh well, bear up; it would be awful having three daughters all the same, and think how difficult it would be to tease me! Lots of love, and thanks very very much for the Beatles. Lots of love, Flavia --------------------------------------------------
After her year in Italy, Flavia returned to London where she did her A-levels at Westminster Tutors. One of Flavia’s best friends at More House had been a girl of Polish origin, Hania Lempiska, and in the summer of 1966 she invited Flavia to travel round Poland with her.
Letter 13.20. Flavia Lambert at the Hotel Orlinek, Karpacz, to Michael Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, 15 August 1966.
Dear Daddy, Sorry that I have not written before, but I did write you a letter but never got around to posting it. As you will see, I am still safe and sound though rather dirty. I am having a fantastic time in Poland, even though I have only got drunk twice. We are up in the mountains at the moment, right in the south of Poland near the Czechoslovak border and yesterday I was pushed into a marathon 20 kilometre walk up and down rocky mountain paths. Everyone was flabbergasted that I survived and then was able to stay up until four in the morning, drinking and dancing. Poland itself is not really a very attractive country – too much communist influence. Most of the buildings are a horrible uniform grey in a style that lacks any taste or imagination. The standard of living is also frightfully low – Polish families of seven who would be considered well off in England have to live in three room flats because the law allows them only so many cubic metres per person. However, the Poles themselves are overflowing in hospitality – everyone is terribly kind to me and all Hania’s relations treat me as though I was their daughter. I cause quite a sensation here in Poland; unfortunately it is mostly ridicule and not admiration – no one has ever seen my hair colour and length and the comments as I walk down the street are most entertaining. I ought to be back on the second of September, but I will send you a telegram so you can lay on a huge welcoming ceremony. Love, Flavia ------------------------------------------------------ In January 1968, Flavia went back to Rome for six months, theoretically to attend courses at Rome University, although she does not seem to have done much studying. She lodged in a palazzo on the via Condotti, with a family called Ghergo, consisting of a mother and two daughters. The mother and one of the daughters, Cristina, ran a photographic studio on one of the floors of the palazzo.
Letter 13.21. Flavia Lambert, 61 via Condotti, Rome, to Florence Lambert at 2 Aubrey Road, London W.8, 19 February 1968
Dear Mummy, …Finding a job seems to be extremely difficult as you need a raccomandazione for everything, even working in a shop, and unfortunately the two things that the Ghergos can help me with – modelling or working in a shop – are exactly what I don’t wish to do – anyhow, they pay extremely badly, only six pounds a week and always full time. It seems that the most rewarding job financially would be working as a maid-come-nanny as working from 2-7 brings me 60,000 lire a month, but it also seems extremely infra dig – the signora showed a shocked face when I mentioned it, for the custom of students working as chars to make a little extra money doesn’t seem to exist. However, I hope and pray. I go out quite often sightseeing with Francesca [Barran, her first cousin], which ought to please you, but yesterday I went to see Frascati with Renato [Flavia had acquired an Italian boyfriend]; we managed in fact to see several other towns and arrived nearly as far as Fuggia. The day was beautiful, an azure sky, though bitterly cold and a strong equally cold wind, but all the same perfect for viewing Roman countryside, which now is especially attractive with long bright green catkins hanging down from the branches of trees, making a strong contrast with the copper-coloured oak leaves still on some of the small bushes. Also, when one gets out as far as Fuggia, one leaves behind all the Roman picknickers and has both the road and country to oneself. I am glad I made a favourable impression on the Weisweillers [parents of one of Flavia’s schoolfriends from More House], though I am not sure I am so pleased about the idea of having my picture in the Tatler, for I have no wish to be identified as a deb. However, if they do decide to publish me, send them to Renato as he is longing to have a picture of me. Socially Rome is great fun and Cristina has already taken me to several parties and people are beginning to invite me out. They are mostly very rich and take me to expensive restaurants and nightclubs, which is always gratifying to my luxury-living soul. I have bought myself a gorgeous short evening dress with wide sleeves fringed with ostrich feathers, by English standards very expensive (about £25), but by Italian standards incredibly cheap, so I couldn’t resist it. Now, though, my wardrobe is piu o meno complete, for all these parties required dresses like that. Anyhow, it is so far my only purchase and everyone approves. I am in excellent health, though suffering from the cold. Lots of love, Flavia
|
