{Class}[25th November 1984]

[Redbook2:353][19841125:1105b]{Class}[25^th November 1984]

19841125.1105

(Sunday)

[continued]

We have had [F] to stay for the week before he goes in [to hospital]* – I first suggested it but [W] had already thought of it – and she finds it even more of a strain [...] than I do. It clears my mind, though, on 'class': not (for me) a matter of blood and parentage, nor of socio-economic groups, but of a refinement of mind: this makes [class] mobility, as between the generations, essential. I cannot stand his torture of the language; and his need to fill every space with things and himself, and every silence with his own voice. His manner of speech and movement proclaims him a low-grade villain, quite literally: anyone who bridles at such a description should first live with him on two occasions, as I have. But he is an old man in fear of pain and death, and I am glad if we have made a little less lonely what may be his last week of freedom.

We took him to see a ghastly show last night – 'Pump Boys and Dinettes' – surrounded by raucous laughter and farts, both of which one could see coming a mile off. The cast worked energetically and with skill on appalling material, and the theatre was packed (so far as I could see, anyway)

*[See last previous entry]

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