Fortunately he had not understood, owing to the Berkshire accent they already affected, that what they were calling him was bugger-shit.

The house, Crux Easton, was exactly right and I bought it on the spot. We got our Wootton furniture from store and moved in at once. We bought a cow, Max named her Wellson; from then on we lived well and she gave us butter and milk and cream in abundance. In the yard there was a gardener’s cottage with a crowd of children; they became bosom friends with Alexander and Max and in a matter of days had taught them every swear word in the calendar. They quickly discovered the electric effect these words had upon Nanny and they used them freely. Our new detective, Mr. Buswell, a nice and helpful man, told us one day: ‘The boys always say here comes that battleship Buswell when they see me.’ Fortunately he had not understood, owing to the Berkshire accent they already affected, that what they were calling him was bugger-shit.

D. Mosley, A life of contrasts (1978), loc. 3,219

Reception, for example, which in the ordinary world means a rather dull and formal sort of party

The prison words never ceased to amuse. Reception, for example, which in the ordinary world means a rather dull and formal sort of party, was the broom cupboard already described. Court was a police court, not Buckingham Palace. Wing, such a beautiful word, meant a section of the vile prison. 

D. Mosley, A life of contrasts (1978), loc. 2,936

This is not how I think of any of these words.

How do people expect a church to keep going for 3 occasions in a lifetime?

It set me thinking how strange it is that a man who had never set foot in his village church should wish to have his funeral service there. Churches are used 3 times it seems, wedding, christening & funeral. At the first two, solemn vows are made which people have no intention of keeping-at the last trump I suppose there’s a glimmer of hope of everlasting life in a sort of heaven. Can you explain it? How do people expect a church to keep going for 3 occasions in a lifetime? A sort of superstition, a leftover from childhood? It soon won’t be that as few children are taken to church in the way that our generation was.

Deborah to Diana, 3 September 1999, ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 876

She was mad of course

How strange it is, this adoration & beatification of the princess. If only they knew. It just shows how humans must have an icon and there she was, beautiful, elegant and charming & quite extraordinary with ill or old people – I’ve seen her at work & it was a case of touching the hem, almost unbelievable. BUT ‘they’ have no idea of the other side. She was mad of course.

Deborah to Diana, 2 September 1997, ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 868

Not a real church like Swinbrook, more a hall with kitchen food

Dink/Terry are coming here from June 11 to 21, I’m so excited for their visit. She/Benj are planning a 50th wedding anniversary for Bob/me on 20 June – you’ll be getting an invite. It’s to be at what Benj calls the ‘FUCK’, i.e. First Unitarian Church, Kensington. No Hen not a real church like Swinbrook, more a hall with kitchen food. 

Jessica to Deborah, 14 May 1993, ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 812

I suppose he did it to force me to buy a wig

My hair was cut in London by what I thought was a faithful hairdresser. I was writing to you & Honks & Woman & not watching him & lo & behold I am an active Lesbian, Irma Grese, a prison wardress, a Great Dane breeder, anything but an ordinary English woman. I suppose he did it to force me to buy a wig.

Deborah to Nancy, 14 October 1968, ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 607

Two enormous countries where you can’t get servants & where everything in the shops is machine-made

Then there was talk about Russia & I said, ‘You must realize that to us in Europe, Russia & America seem exactly the same, two enormous countries where you can’t get servants & where everything in the shops is machine-made.’ She said I’d got it all wrong & her customers have gracious lives like anything.

Nancy to Jessica, 28 August 1957, ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 319

Mon cher, très à gauche, il est Orléaniste

I heard the following blissful remark – one old count to another old count about a third: ‘Mon cher, très à gauche, il est Orléaniste’! And the same ones about the Dsse de Vendôme whose death has plunged the Faubourg into widows’ weeds, ‘Well she must be in heaven by now’ as if she had caught a tram. Oh how funny they are.

Nancy to Diana, 4 April 1948,  ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 265

She always asks them (a) why they became clergymen (b) if they wish they had been made a bishop and (c) if they enjoy sleeping with their wives.

Andrew says he insists on having the [Christmas] Tree either before Birdie [Unity] comes or after she’s gone as she embarrasses him so much with the clergymen as she always asks them (a) why they became clergymen (b) if they wish they had been made a bishop and (c) if they enjoy sleeping with their wives. I must say I do see.

Deborah to Diana, 1 December 1946, ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 255

I never attempt the Hoover or lighting the stove or any of the moderately tough things

Darling, housework. I make my bed & wash up a coffee cup & then I go to bed & sleep the sleep of utter exhaustion until dinner time. What does it mean & how can people manage? I never attempt the Hoover or lighting the stove or any of the moderately tough things.

Nancy to Diana, 7 January 1946, ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 248

I naturally wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him if it was necessary for my cause, and I should expect him to do the same to me

I do think that family ties ought to make a difference. After all, violent differences of opinion didn’t prevent you & me from remaining good friends did they. My attitude to Esmond is as follows – and I rather expect his to me to be the same. I naturally wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him if it was necessary for my cause, and I should expect him to do the same to me. But in the meanwhile, as that isn’t necessary, I don’t see why we shouldn’t be quite good friends, do you. I wonder if he agrees.

Unity to Jessica, 11 April 1937, ed. C. Mosley, The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters (2007), 106

They think of literally nothing all day but bulls and the Virgin

You know we started off in Spain, and you’ll never believe this but they are two hours late for every meal – two hours, Fanny – (can we lunch at half-past twelve today?), so of course, by then, you’ve stopped feeling hungry and only feel sick, then when the food comes it is all cooked in rancid oil, I can smell it now, it’s on everybody’s hair too, and to make it more appetizing there are pictures all round you of some dear old bull being tortured to death. They think of literally nothing all day but bulls and the Virgin. Spain was the worst of all, I thought.

N. Mitford, Love in a cold climate (1949), collected edition. Kindle loc.16,932

All the fault of that damned padre

Uncle Matthew went with Aunt Sadie and Linda on one occasion to a Shakespeare play, Romeo and Juliet. It was not a success. He cried copiously, and went into a furious rage because it ended badly. ‘All the fault of that damned padre,’ he kept saying on the way home, still wiping his eyes. ‘That fella, what’s ’is name, Romeo, might have known a blasted papist would mess up the whole thing. Silly old fool of a nurse too, I bet she was an R.C., dismal old bitch.’

N. Mitford, The pursuit of love (1945), collection edition. Kindle loc.11,246