Love, Nina by Nina Stibbe Page A

They make me think of him as wallowing and moaning and wishing for the olden days and that he hadn’t been such a cunt to his wife.
    Which I already knew from the introduction to The Return of the Native .
    I did like one bit from a poem about miserable weather (his favorite topic after the olden days): “the sky frowns whitely in eye-trying flaps.”
    Hardy means the sky was white and hurt your eyes even though it wasn’t very bright. The idea is loaded with symbolism. We are so used to gloom, even a white sky tries our eyes.
    Also while I was there (library), borrowed a recording of a bloke reading Chaucer in the Old English. Nearly wet myself listening.
    Ring me to make a plan.
    Love, Nina
    PS Beginning to hate Hardy’s pea-shaped head.
    *  *  *
    Dear Vic,
    Still little clusters of stuff around from Xmas. You wouldn’t believe what people gave them—you’d think they didn’t even know them.
    One lot:
    Sam: xylophone (multicolored)
    Will: xylophone (silver)
    MK: mini candelabra (red candles, small)
    Another lot:
    Sam: lunchbox with Yummy written on
    Will: lunchbox with Grub written on
    MK: Amaryllis bulb, pot, bag of soil (instructions)
    Another lot:
    Sam: book on cricket by a famous cricketer
    Will: My first book of gardening
    MK: decorative bell & jar of olive paste
    MK was also given a camellia by a bloke (with roots). Fake-looking pink flowers. Half expected the other shrubs to attack it for being blousy.
    MK: How’s the camellia doing?
    Me: Unhappy.
    MK: What causes unhappiness in a camellia?
    Me: Fluctuations.
    MK: In?
    Me: Temperature, light.
    MK: Fuck, we’re supposed to stop the sun from going down.
    Love, Nina
    *  *  *
    Dear Vic,
    Having a break from Shakespeare. Reading One Hundred Years of Solitude by G. García Márquez. I wish it was on the syllabus, it’s marvelous. You’d love it, I’m sure.
    When I’ve finished, I’ll go on to Romeo and Juliet —I know the basic plot already. Will reminded me—it’s like West Side Story . Not that Will knows West Side Story as such, but MK does, and has mentioned in passing that West Side Story is based (loosely) on R&J.
    Daren’t say (to MK or Nunney) how much I don’t like Shakespeare. Don’t find it funny or exciting. It might have been funny etc. years ago, before modern comedies, but now it’s weak and A Winter’s Tale doesn’t even seem like a comedy. The poor little son dies of a broken heart and the baby daughter is left in the woods to die and the wife spends sixteen years as a statue. Also, another bloke gets killed by a bear and it’s all because of this king being jealous. Maybe Shakespeare is saying that jealousy is bad, but it’s not very funny.
    It’s like Chaucer. People always going on about how rude and funny it is because someone farts.
    Sam is rehearsing for his school play. School doesn’t usually encourage him to take part (which makes MK furious) but this term Sam’s fought his corner and got a speaking part. We’re all very excited and proud.
    He has to shout, “Boudicca, Boudicca, Queen of the Iceni,” a few times rhythmically and run with a spear.
    We’re disagreeing over the pronunciation.
    Will says it’s Bo-a-da-see-er. And I agree.
    Sam insists it’s Boo-dicca (because that’s how Miss Whatnot says it).
    AB says there’s always been debate on the subject.
    MK says Sam must know, and gives Will, me and AB a shut-up look.
    Have taken photos of Sam in his costume. Will send when developed.
    Pippa has given S&W some sunflower seeds (to plant, so that they could grow sunflowers). Now she keeps asking how they’re doing. Have decided to say that we planted them, they grew a bit, then they got eaten by slugs. Just to shut her up.
    Glad holiday was good. Josie H. sounds like a marvel. Write a longer letter telling me everything.
    Love, Nina
    *  *  *
    Dear