‘Birthdays locked-down with Alan Bennett’
Good morning,
Today is my 50th birthday. I was born on 2 April 1970 in Glasgow, the youngest of three children. This is surely one of the oddest birthdays I have spent. I was in Glasgow when I turned 10, in Aberdeen when 20, in Laytown, Co. Meath, Ireland when 30, and St Monans, Fife when 40. None of these occasions took place in lockdown.
People have asked how I had planned to spend today. In Edinburgh with my wife was the plan, lunch at the Witchery, and then a play by Alan Bennett called The Habit of Art at the King’s Theatre. F21 and 22 in the stalls. A party with friends on Saturday. A family gathering (to celebrate two birthdays) in June. A story of cancellations echoed in countless lives around the world.
Nevertheless, it got me thinking that the wit and wisdom of Alan Bennett might be a suitable Companion piece for the day. Here are some of his finest moments, from his plays, fiction, essays and diary.
2 January 1989. I’m sent a complimentary (sic) copy of Waterstone’s Literary Diary which records the birthdays of various contemporary literary figures. Here is Dennis Potter on 17 May, Michael Frayn on 8 September, Edna O’Brien on 15 December, and so naturally I turn to my own birthday. May 9 is blank except for the note: ‘The first British self-service launderette is opened on Queensway, London 1949.’ (London Review of Books)
The best moments in reading are when you come across something – a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things – which you had thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours. (The History Boys)
Proust’s is a long book, though, water-skiing permitting, you could get through it in the summer recess. (The Uncommon Reader)
A library in the middle of a community is a cross between an emergency exit, a life raft and a festival. They are cathedrals of the mind; hospitals of the soul; theme parks of the imagination.
(The Library Book)
We started off trying to set up a small anarchist community, but people wouldn’t obey the rules. (Getting On)
Franklin: Have you ever thought, Headmaster, that your standards might perhaps be a little out of date?
Headmaster: Of course they’re out of date. Standards always are out of date. That is what makes them standards.
(Forty Years On)
King George III: I am the King. I tell. I am not told. I am the verb, sir. I am not the object. (The Madness of George III)
The majority of people perform well in a crisis and when the spotlight is on them; it’s on the Sunday afternoons of this life, when nobody is looking, that the spirit falters. (Writing Home)
Watching people behave is nothing special; watching them trying to behave is always fascinating.
She said, ‘He knows what I mean. Where did you get those shoes?’ He said, ‘They’re training shoes.’ She said, ‘Training for what? Are you not fully qualified?’ He said, ‘If Jesus were alive today, Mrs Whittaker, I think you’d find these were the type of shoes he would be wearing.’ (Talking Heads)
No mention of God. They keep Him up their sleeves for as long as they can, vicars do. They know it puts people off. (Talking Heads)
I have no doubt that in heaven the angels will regard the blessed as a necessary evil. (Writing Home)
The nearest my parents came to alcohol was at Holy Communion and they utterly overestimated its effects. However bad the weather, Dad never drove to church because Mam thought the sacrament might make him incapable on the return journey. (A Life Like Other People’s)
February 1981. Miss S. [Miss Shepherd, who lived in a van in Bennett’s driveway] has flu. So I am doing her shopping. I wait every morning by the side window of the van and, with the dark interior and her grimy hand holding back the tattered purple curtain, it is as if I am at the confessional. The chief items this morning are ginger nuts (‘very warming’) and grape juice. ‘I think this is what they must have been drinking at Cana,’ she says as I hand her the bottle. ‘Jesus wouldn’t have wanted them rolling about drunk, and this is non-alcoholic. It wouldn’t do for everyone, but in my opinion it’s better than champagne.’ (The Lady in the Van)
Words used only at Christmas: Tidings. Abiding. Swaddling. Lo! Abhors.
Carols are also full of titles for bad novels:
This Happy Morning
The Son of Earth
The King of Angels
(Untold Stories)
11 August. En route for Petersfield and A. G.’s funeral I turn off the A3 to look at Ockham church and eat my sandwich lunch in the churchyard. It’s locked but a rather grand woman who’s working in the churchyard opens it up. It’s the church of William of Ockham and Ockham’s razor (in Latin) in inscribed for mugs on sale at the bookstall. Coming out, I thank the woman and she says I’m lucky because they wouldn’t normally be around but they’ve been having trouble with the myrrh. The church hadn’t seemed to be particularly ritualistic so this puzzles me.
‘The myrrh?’ I say.
‘Yes.’
‘You mean the incense?’
‘No, no. The myrrh. For the grass. It’s broken down. (London Review of Books)
In my last play the Church of England is planning to sell off Winchester Cathedral. ‘Why not?’ says a character. ‘The school is private, why shouldn’t the cathedral be also?’ And it’s a joke but it’s no longer far-fetched. (Fair Play, a Sermon before the University, King’s College Chapel, 1 June 2014, London Review of Books)
I turned down a knighthood. It would be like having to wear a suit every day of your life.
I do not use, and would not know how to use, the internet. (Untold Stories)
Alan Bennett
Donald MacEwan
Here is the invitation to Compline this evening, Thursday 2 April at 10 pm, led by Fiona Barnard, our International Students Chaplain, a lovely service of night-prayer. I have attached the order of service for it. You may already have printed it off last week. Or you could have it open on your screen during the service. Zoom worked well last Thursday and on Sunday – no guarantees we’ll get it right, but it’s worth clicking on the link below and following the process.
Donald MacEwan is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting.
Topic: Compline Online
Time: Apr 2, 2020 10:00 PM London
Join Zoom Meeting https://zoom.us/j/822139865
Meeting ID: 822 139 865
Compline
To everyone who is celebrating a birthday during lockdown, many happy returns!
Yours,
Donald.