My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleyfelt her ankle, her shin, her knee; at this point with a loud scream she jumped to herfeet and ran down the road. The experience cost me £50 in the currency of the period,a modest sum in all the circumstances, and it was well worth it, once the emotions ofthe lady .were assuaged, for it stood me in further and valuable stead. Like my otherexperiences it is modestly offered for the warning and advantage of the cominggeneration.The fire brigade eventually reached Clonfert, and the Irish are magnificent on theseoccasions. They checked the fire before it reached the end wing, where some of ourfavourite pictures were hung, but the old house remained a sad, uninhabitable shell. Iknew that some of Diana's favourite drawings, by modern artists like Tchelichev,were in a drawer I could not find, that much of her favourite furniture was burnt, andthat the whole business would be a severe shock to her. So we left the cook withkindly neighbours and in the small hours I motored to Dublin with Alexander, whohad behaved splendidly throughout, to meet Diana at the airport and break the newsbefore she heard it from others; it was lucky that she was due back that day. Theaircraft landed and she came across the tarmac waving and smiling happily as she sawus on the roof of the building awaiting her arrival. Then came to me a strange sense,heavy with the sorrow of things: for once we were in the sad position of the fates ofclassic tragedy, aware of what is coming to happy mortals who themselves areunconscious of a destiny often far more bitter than the news we had to impart. Wewent down, and told her what had happened; she took the loss of her treasures withher usual courage. The consolation was that no one suffered any physical injury,except the sense of shock from which our good-natured cook quickly recovered.Our home in Ireland no longer existed, so we looked around for another roof to coverwhat was left of us. Luckily, we soon found a delightful house in a simple Regencystyle overlooking the Blackwater river, for a very moderate price. It was twenty milesnorth of Cork and about fifteen miles from Lismore, where Diana's sister Deborahwent each early spring to a particularly beautiful garden and some excellent salmonfishing. We had a few hundred yards of fishing quite adequate for my occasional andsporadic use of the sport. There is an advantage in fishing of only moderate quality,because you feel no compulsion to have any ghillie assistance or to keep at it in theconcentrated professional manner. I used to fish for a bit, then sit down and think orwrite. For this the surroundings were ideal, because the house was on a little cliffabove the river facing south. The cliff was wooded with the perpetual green of thesouthern Irish climate, and there was room to walk between it and the river and to fishor reflect in the genial winter sunshine in an atmosphere so mild that I remember, inthis favoured spot, Riviera sunshine on Christmas Day. The only awkward momentwas the hooking of a fish, because the sides of the river at this point were steep andscrambling down to gaff him was quite difficult with my lame leg. However, Imanaged it often enough to maintain the pleasurable excitement.The only drawback of the agreeable existence in this house was that we soon becametoo busy to go there enough to enjoy it and to warrant the expense. So we finally soldit in 1963 and established ourselves in France. Distance now means nothing for allpractical purposes, because I can telephone by dial an office in London from Paris aseasily and quickly as from London, and, living near an airport, I can get from door todoor in little more than half the time it takes to travel by road to London from myStaffordshire homeland. Why did I go to France rather than to any other country?360 of 424