The Filthy Pinko Ginger 2.0

Jane. 24. Harry Potter nerd, Anglophile, political junkie. I want to be Jessica Mitford when I grow up.

June 5, 2013 8:49 am February 6, 2013 8:38 am
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[Philip Toynbee] did, however, come to our farewell party held unsuitably in 4 Rutland Gate Mews, downstairs from my parents’ house in 26 Rutland Gate, then let to Ann Farrer, a year older than I, who was starting her career as an actress.

'And as that party grew noisier and noisier through the night, Esmond was always hoping that the “Nazi baron” would come knocking at the door to make a protest,' Philip writes. He describes the assembled guests –'all the odd strata of the Romillys' social life.' (Who were they? Of my family, only my brother Tom came, bringing with him a rare beauty, Janetta Woolley, aged perhaps fifteen – cradle-snatched, I could see – I think I did ask her how she ever got away; climbed out of the nursery window? Quite so, she said.)

Eventually Esmond and I ‘became bored,’ Philip writes, ‘and left their guests to shout and drink without them.’ All true, no doubt.

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Jessica Mitford, Faces of Philip
January 23, 2013 8:44 am
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[Philip Toynbee’s] amazingly versatile love life, and the high drama which he invested his accounts of its fluctuations, were an unfailing source of wonder and amusement; as good as going to the theatre, Esmond said, whenever he came round to chat. Esmond was constantly demanding the next act: ‘We’ve paid our money and we expect a full evening’s entertainment.’ Philip seldom disappointed, and we must have been a good audience: ‘Both of them listened with that greedy smacking of lips which I found so rewarding,’ he wrote. ‘It was one of Esmond’s most charming characteristics that he could listen with almost inexhaustible pleasure to other people’s stories.’

I remember those stories— and us, Oliver Twists, asking for more, or sometimes a repeat of one that we had heard many times.

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Jessica Mitford, Faces of Philip
May 7, 2012 10:11 pm
"A boy was leaving the shop as my taxi drew up in Parton Street, a short, square, dirty figure with a square white face and sweaty hair. ‘I’m looking for Esmond Romilly,’ I said.
‘Yes?’
He was instantly, dramatically, on his guard, conspiratorial, prepared for violent aggression or ingenious deceit. I thrilled and trembled more hysterically than ever.
‘I’m Toynbee,’ I said, ‘Toynbee of Rugby.’
Esmond looked sharply up and down the short street, then opened the shop door and pushed me through it."

Philip Toynbee, Friends Apart