{"id":131,"date":"1980-01-30T15:53:32","date_gmt":"1980-01-30T15:53:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.shirtyletters.com\/?p=131"},"modified":"2014-10-12T06:05:05","modified_gmt":"2014-10-12T06:05:05","slug":"letter-to-bernard-levin-the-times-30-jan-1980","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/?p=131","title":{"rendered":"Letter to Bernard Levin, The Times"},"content":{"rendered":"
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This is a letter I wrote to Bernard Levin at a distraught time in my life – simply because I admired his journalism and I wanted someone to\u00a0know<\/span> my feelings.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Dear Mr Levin,<\/p>\n

I rang your secretary twice last Friday to be told you preferred to receive a letter. \u00a0I shall give you a brief \u2018 curriculum vitae \u2018 before getting down to the \u2018 nitty-gritty \u2018. \u00a0I am twenty five, born 13th July 1954 to wealthy country gentlefolk in the Cotswolds. \u00a0From Cothill Preparatory School I went to Eton, gaining 14 \u2018O\u2019 levels, 3 \u2018A\u2019 levels and 2 \u2018S\u2019 levels. \u00a0From there I went to Christ Church, Oxford. \u00a0At Oxford I am afraid I spent most of my time either on the golf course or at various social functions in London. \u00a0Unfortunately this behaviour didn\u2019t cut much ice with the academic authorities and after one year and two terms among the lovely spires I retired. \u00a0I then took a 50p per hour job as a dishwasher at a London club before accepting my first \u2018real job\u2019 offer, \u00a0which was with a re-insurance firm, \u00a0Greig Fester. \u00a0I survived that for one and a half years before wanderlust struck. \u00a0I earned some hard cash during that year (1977) before setting off to New York and points south. \u00a0My route was, briefly : \u00a0New York, Atlanta, Houston, Yucatan, Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Panama and Bogota.<\/p>\n

I spent five months travelling overland through Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina and Brazil \u2013 including three weeks chugging along the rive gauche of the Amazon \u2013 and returning to Colombia. Eventually I returned to New York in July 1978 and then to London. I was still searching for some concrete direction. \u00a0I wrote to Intermediate Technology Ltd., then took a job at Habitat, King\u2019s Road, until Christmas 1978 before setting off overland at the end of January 1979 towards Nepal. \u00a0I must have been one of the last few travellers to follow that well-worn path, \u00a0but fate smiled gently. Turkey was foul ( and fowl ) \u2013 a veritable Midnight Express but my two days passing through Iran were memorable. \u00a0Most Iranians, I feel, are honest, caring people . I crossed into Afghanistan at the beginning of March. \u00a0What a relief it was to reach Herat and meet the proud and strong Afghans.<\/p>\n

\"ski-ing_jamie\"\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0Climbing above Gulmarg, \u00a0Jammu and Kashmir<\/i><\/p>\n

From Kabul I set off again through Pakistan and even went skiing for three or four days, \u00a0climbing up above Gulmarg, \u00a0an old hill station near Srinigar. \u00a0Finally I reached the dreamy Kathmandu at the beginning of April. \u00a0Here I joined a trek organised by Edward Montagu, consisting of nine Europeans and twenty seven porters and sherpas. \u00a0The scenery was spectacular and the mountain people enchanting.<\/p>\n

\"jamie_smiling\"\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0Trekking in Nepal<\/em><\/p>\n

A three week walk in the Jugal Himal took us up one valley, \u00a0across a ridge and down the Indrawati valley. \u00a0I then travelled on round India for two months \u2013 receiving a lot of bad \u2018vibes\u2019, \u00a0through Iran to Turkey, Greece, Italy and London. \u00a0I returned home on 1st July 1979. \u00a0At this stage I was hoping to set myself up on a smallholding in Southern England after gaining at least one year\u2019s experience on someone else\u2019s land. \u00a0However, I never seemed to have the necessary dedication or money ( \u00a33,000 per acre ) \u2013 so the farming idea was shelved.<\/p>\n

I was considering opening a restaurant until, \u00a0during a round of golf with a friend, \u00a0the idea of \u2018frozen foods\u2019 developed. \u00a0My partner and I started experimenting with recipes and how well they turned out when cooked etc.. \u00a0Early attempts were tasted and enthused over by my friends and I am convinced that the company MANGE 2 FOODS Ltd., will be a success. \u00a0Half my company\u2019s profits will go to charities after the initial year. \u00a0Virtually all my ingredients are organically grown; \u00a0we do four soups, three or four mousses and about six entr\u00e9es, \u00a0not to mention the biggest seller yet \u00a0\u2013 \u00a0heart-shaped salmon fishcakes.<\/p>\n

It was on 17th December 1979 that my life suddenly changed. \u00a0I was delivering the first of my MANGE 2 products ( with a free \u2018backsheesh\u2019 home-baked wholemeal loaf ) \u00a0to some friends and saw a girl there whom I hadn\u2019t seen for years. \u00a0It was love at first sight and the light of our Lord was shining through Cha\u2019s eyes. \u00a0Suddenly my outlook on life was changed from a mild pessimism to an inspired confidence and faith. \u00a0Our great friend in the sky took over my life completely in all its aspects. \u00a0It had all been a question of giving ; if you give so shall you receive. \u00a0All my life He had been grooming me for this time and I have the spirit and emotion to do His will on earth; and believe me I am most honoured.<\/p>\n

Christmas slipped by \u00a0\u2013 \u00a0at Elsenham on the Eve, \u00a0then hitching on Christmas Day back to London \u00a0\u2013 \u00a0I then rang a friend, \u00a0Kim Beddall and spent the evening and night of Christmas Day there. \u00a0Kind people …<\/p>\n

\"woman_sitting\"<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Mary Rose at Vale do Lobo, Algarve 1974<\/em><\/p>\n

On Sunday evening 5th January 1980 ( having finished the golf competition at Rye ), \u00a0I planted out about five hundred bulbs in the garden of Mary Rose\u2019s Belgravia maisonette, then boated, trained and taxied up to Klosters in Switzerland. \u00a0I was due to stay for two weeks. \u00a0The snow was perfect and we had some great times.<\/p>\n

Mary Rose is a girl of twenty two, \u00a0radiantly beautiful and full of giving and love. \u00a0I lived, on and off, with her for three years until quite suddenly she became engaged to Greville Howard, and the day she married at her uncle\u2019s house ( Beaulieu ), \u00a0I was skiing at 18,750 feet in Bolivia. \u00a0Now back in Klosters … \u00a0I was staying in a little room lent to me by a fabulous family called the Fatorinis as there was no room in our family flat. \u00a0I did, however, sometimes take my lunch and dinner in with the rest of the family. \u00a0Now my sister Carole started behaving irrationally towards me, \u00a0eventually throwing a glass at me ( it missed ) and accusing me of talking nonsense to her children ( aged eight and seven ). \u00a0She has these depressed fits sometimes, \u00a0but not usually so violently . Anyway, I decided to leave her in peace by cutting short my holiday, and on Saturday 12th January I told my brother-in-law that I was leaving Klosters. \u00a0I stayed around until the 14th, \u00a0which is Kitten\u2019s ( another elder sister ) birthday and then hitched off towards home, \u00a0going by train most of the way to Paris. \u00a0In Paris I saw some great friends and enjoyed la bonne vie, \u00a0but something told me I ought to be getting back to London.<\/p>\n

I arrived back on Thursday 18th January at 7a.m. \u00a0off the boat train and collected my 1966 Morris Minor Convertible from its menders, then polished it up and started preparing to cook some of my dishes for sale when at 10.30a.m. Georgie Chichester rang to say, \u00a0\u201c Mary Rose is dying \u201c. \u00a0She says little else. \u00a0Mary Rose was knocked unconscious whilst out riding ( never her favourite sport ) on the frosty ground on 12th January 1980 \u00a0\u2013 \u00a0the same day that I had declared my intention of leaving Switzerland \u00a0\u2013 \u00a0and had been in a coma ever since. \u00a0Her husband Greville and her mother and father stayed at her side throughout. \u00a0On that Thursday morning I broke down to a physical and mental heap on my kitchen floor for some time before going out walking. \u00a0I try to enter churches but they are locked. \u00a0The sixth, in Clapham, is open, but the builders have perched their coffee mugs on the altar \u00a0\u2013 \u00a0so I go screaming on Clapham Common to pull the adorable Mary Rose through. \u00a0In the evening Georgie rings again to say that Mary Rose\u2019s heart is beating more strongly and that she has passed urine. \u00a0So back I go to Clapham Common and scream for miracles . I offered to help in any way, but Georgie said, \u00a0\u201c Pray from where you are \u201c.<\/p>\n

On Friday, \u00a0ignoring Georgie\u2019s advice, \u00a0I drove my Morris down to Lymington and appeared at noon at the family house. \u00a0Mary Rose is still living, \u00a0contrary to what a friend had told me that morning , \u201c Oh, she died \u00a0\u2013 \u00a0didn\u2019t you hear ? \u201c. \u00a0I had taken down six of my heart-shaped salmon fishcakes and we moved across the Beaulieu Heath to their granny\u2019s house , and just before lunch Lady Chichester rings to say, \u201c … it is finished \u201c. \u00a0I share their grief for some five hours before returning to London.<\/p>\n

On Saturday I rose early again and drove down to Heathrow to meet Cha Weychan off a flight from Bulgaria; \u00a0marvellous but she arrived on a plane that didn\u2019t exist . \u00a0All the same I met some good people working in the Terminal 2 Coffee Bar. \u00a0Cha rang later, which was much appreciated. \u00a0That afternoon I made more bread and went off to dine with friends in Bucharest Road, SW18. \u00a0They offered to give me a bed for the night, and I accepted, \u00a0but I could not sleep \u00a0… \u00a0or rather, \u00a0God did not want me to sleep, so I left quietly at midnight, lighting a candle in their spare room, and returned to my home in Altenburg Gardens.<\/p>\n

Minnow, one of my housemates asks, \u201c Where on earth are you going ? \u201c. \u00a0\u201c West. \u201c, \u00a0I replied. \u00a0So I packed all that I might need for a couple of days on the road, \u00a0put my feet into my Adidas trainers ( 60,000 miles and still going strong ) and lit one more candle at my house and another in the ashtray of the Morris. \u00a0We are off again, following our fortunes, \u00a0doing His will on earth. \u00a0First nature call stop was at Heston at about 2.30a.m. where I picked up two Welsh hitch-hikers who had been standing there between four and five hours. \u00a0What a charitable nation we are. \u00a0I tell them I\u2019m not sure where we are going, but Bristol seems a possibility. \u00a0Avebury, let\u2019s go to Avebury \u00a0\u2013 \u00a0so we pull in at Membury Services ( which seems incidentally to operate as a pick-up joint for the call girl market in those early hours ). \u00a0I saw a man with a friendly face and asked him, \u201c Excuse me, could you help ? \u00a0I\u2019m going to Avebury \u00a0\u201c. \u00a0\u201c Oh, I live there. \u00a0Got a seventeenth \u00a0century cottage right in the village \u201c. \u00a0He directs me to Avebury, \u00a0where we stop to listen, to touch the stones, to feel the brilliant stars. \u00a0There was real power and the moles were pushing up their pyramids as we walked around. \u00a0Avebury church was dream-like; \u00a0its stained-glass windows sentinels of salvation.<\/p>\n

So, from the dolmens and monoliths ( these people understood nature as much if not more than we do today ), the Morris drove us quickly through Bath and to Bristol central. \u00a0Ritchie ( one of my hikers ) knew a splendid midnight cafe where we had coffee and breakfast. \u00a0A man with a limp came up to me and said, \u201c Excuse me, can I help you at all ? \u201c. \u00a0I asked where was the best hospital for serious accidents ? \u201c. \u00a0\u201c Oh, just across the road from here, the Bristol Royal Infirmary. \u201c \u00a0There I acquired my first taste of hospital inquiry desks : \u00a0Mary Rose wasn\u2019t there, \u00a0but we discovered where she was. The time was now 7.45a.m. on a Sunday morning, and I clambered up Sion Hill, Clifton to the Camera Obscura, and for me that was the most spectacular dawn ever . Flocks of birds were floating along the Avon Gorge and the frost was thawing slowly. \u00a0It was obvious what my mission was … \u00a0to say to Mary Rose, \u00a0\u201c Arise and walk \u201c . I rang up Cha Weychan\u2019s mother and went round to be fed coffee and a great rap we had too.<\/p>\n

At about 10 o\u2019clock Wanda Weychan took me up to Frenchay Hospital up in North Bristol. \u00a0 I was then at the last gate, telling the fat man behind the Frenchay Hospital inquiry desk my story. \u00a0It was obviously not his responsibility so he passed the proverbial buck to a Dr. Briggs, who was in the ward carrying out post-mortems on a Sunday \u201c because there was such a backlog … we\u2019ve had a lot of experience here with death and I can assure you that we are acting in your best interests … \u201c. The clinico-scientifico anti emotion syndrome.<\/p>\n

Wanda, a veritable saint, drove me back to Clifton. \u00a0As we said goodbye and as the sun was so hot on that amazing morning, down came the Morris\u2019s soft top. \u00a0My candle still burns in the gusty conditions and snuffs out on Sion Hill between the obelisk and the church where they queue to hear the man preach.<\/p>\n

Yours sincerely,<\/p>\n

Jamie Summers<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

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  This is a letter I wrote to Bernard Levin at a distraught time in my life – simply because I admired his journalism and I wanted someone to\u00a0know my feelings. \u00a0 Dear Mr Levin, I rang your secretary twice last Friday to be told you preferred to receive a letter. \u00a0I shall give you … Continue reading Letter to Bernard Levin, The Times<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[7],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/131"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=131"}],"version-history":[{"count":18,"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/131\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":149,"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/131\/revisions\/149"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=131"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=131"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shirtyletters.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=131"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}