Alan Bennett is best known for his stage and screen work, from Talking Heads and The Lady in the Van to The History Boys and Allelujah !. His annual diary appeared in the London Review of Books in 1983. In this excerpt from his new book, House Arrest, he discusses Covid and his detention at home with his partner Rupert Thomas in London or Yorkshire for a year in and out of the blockade of February 2020 to March 2021
February 24, 2020 Last week, Rupert [then editor in chief of the World of Interiors] and his entire magazine was thrown into confusion when, for no apparent reason, management asked how many of the team could work from home. This was taken as a prelude to some staff redundancies. Today, it turns out to be less hostile than that, but rather a precautionary measure. The coronavirus in Italy means that the office in Milan must be closed, the investigation in case such a situation arises in London. This is considered unlikely.
March 1 Thanks to arthritis, I am now much less mobile than I was. Gone are the days when I could jump on my bike to go down to the shops, so static semi-insulation is hardly a difficulty or even a violation of my routine. George Steiner once asked a Soviet dissident how he managed to survive so many things. “House arrest, Steiner. House arrest. “Alas, as far as work is concerned, I have not yet noticed much difference.
These days, “connecting only” means elbowing
March 14 At the age of 70, I am officially urged to remain isolated and indoors, which means that my usual movement is now approved by the government.
March 18 The Royal Theater tour of The Habit of Art, a play about Auden and Britton that performed well last year and was due to resume for a festival in New York, had to be canceled. I am writing to the cast, apologizing and saying that one person who will not wash his hands every five minutes is WH Auden.
March 20 With Rupert, who now works from home, my life is much easier, as I regularly receive cups of tea and a wonderful hot lunch.
March 24 is a rare plane.
A photo in the Guardian of a homemade sign at the entrance to the village of Malham, which says or rather begs the hordes of tourists to return home. In our village in Yorkshire, about 20 miles away, the car park is full and the place is much busier than on a regular Sunday. So far, some of the visitors have practically tied their hands due to social distancing. And yet this makes a difference from riding for toilet rollers.
March 26 About six [director] Nick Hitner rings, very excited. Pierce Wenger [BBC’s director of drama] I just called him and said that although the current restrictions make it difficult to install any television programs, he believes that it may be possible to make a new version of the Talking Heads monologues from 1988. Nick called me (unnecessarily) for my permission. He comes later and we break down some of the details in a conversation with him, who is standing across the street. (“Is that how King Lear began, do you think?”)
April 10, Good Friday We agreed that the cast and crew of Talking Heads must do so for a token fee, and all winnings must be donated to the NHS. I’m a little surprised to find that it’s worth a million pounds, probably more. My skin is not on my nose, as I never expected the programs to be repeated, but the financial sacrifice for some of the cast and crew will not be conditional. As amazing as it is, this gesture passes without warning.
Good Friday, when this year Pontius Pilate is not the only one who washes his hands.
April 16Card by Tom King [a friend of Bennett’s publisher’s son] with news about the tattoo he put on his arm (pictured in the Diary, published in the London Review of Books on January 3, 2019): “The tattoo remains popular, although strangely one person thinks it belongs to Henry Kissinger. He also has a fun conversation during intercourse.
Tom King’s Alan Bennett Tattoo, illustrated by Barry Falls.
April 18 Nick H. calls after the first reading of the monologues he produces, including a new one, The Shrine, about a woman whose husband was killed in a motorcycle accident. At one point, she talks about the sandwiches she made for him, “stuck somewhere in a hedge.” Neither Monica Dolan nor Nick, who directed it, came across “wenged” and I think that may be one of my father’s fictional words. That meant – at least for him – throwing himself. When my parents moved to the village, they were puzzled that they were still finding the mud on the lawn. Then one day Dad was in the garden, and from the next door, where the old lady had a dog, a scumbag came. With unusual audacity, Dad brought it back (and it never happened again), but wenged remained in the family vocabulary.
April 28 The most one can hope for from the reader is that he or she should think, “Here’s someone who knows what it’s like to be me.” just connecting ”, but that’s what I mean.
Nowadays, “connecting only” means elbow strikes.
May 7 Sometime in the afternoon [the actor] Alex Jennings and [his wife] Leslie Moers is calling and we have socially distant conversations on the doorstep, I’m sitting in a chair, Rupert is standing behind me. They’re bringing me a birthday present (still unopened), they just got something like Nick Hitner, whose birthday is today. Mine is on Saturday, and Alex the next day, which may be why we all get along so well (all Tauruses, some would say). Nick called later with a report on TH’s progress. It is full of praise for the helpfulness of the EastEnders technicians, who filmed the monologues on Elstree.
Harriet Walter does Soldiering On and asked Nick X how it was that “I did so well.” Without a ready-made explanation, he said (somewhat desperately) that he thought it was because I was a friend of Debo D. [the late Duchess of Devonshire]. There is some truth to this in the sense that my awareness of the high-class tropes does not come from Debo, but from her sister Nancy, whose “Pursuit of Love” I have known since I first discovered him in the 1931-1952 Majority, the omnibus edition of Hamish Hamilton’s publications read when I was in Oxford. “Too many memoirs” would be another explanation (and “some Evelyn Waugh”).
May 9 Flawless weather yesterday and today reveals (with crowds of Primrose Hill) how the blockade is falling apart.
May 11 Boris Johnson’s address to the nation in the evening is rather meaningless. “Be vigilant” means nothing. He is such a bad orator and orator in general, one almost feels sorry for him, and Keira Starmer’s simplicity is a relief.
May 15 I’ve never loved my hands so much. Now, very washed, as we are told, they can hardly bear to look: shiny, veins and transparent as an anatomical illustration. Far from the matte, hard, sensible tools that one has always longed for. I guess it’s more artistic. The hands of an elderly lady lying idle somewhere on her lap.
July 10 Isolation as it is begins to take away my word. I had to call an optician today to explain how I broke my eyeglass stand, and I was so at a loss that Rupert had to bear. He didn’t find it strange at all. I do it.
July 17 I watched the Talking Heads monologues, but due to social distancing, I was unable to attend rehearsals or meet performers or directors. I am sending them thank you notes and good wishes, and today comes a wonderful card from Martin Freeman, whom I do not know, but who is so good in the monologue he made (A Chip in the Sugar), that I want to write back and thank him. this is how we do it as an excerpt from “Lady of Letters”, a thank you note for a thank you letter. I’m so happy about this, I carry Martin’s card with me in my pocket as a hand warmer.
July 19 There is a lot of depressing news in today’s Observer, but the most depressing thing is that because of his support for Brexit, it is believed that Ian Botham will probably be promoted to the title of peri.
August 4 Rupert goes upstairs to do his Pilates in Zoom. His teacher lives around the corner, but she is currently in Canada with her husband. However, he goes up with his T-shirt and shorts, as it is quite stressful and it does not matter that she is on the other side of the world.
August 13 Large rows above A-levels. I’m not sure if I would have benefited if my exam results were based on a term paper. I was a good examiner, but I didn’t hold much in class. I needed an occasion before I could perform and even put on my A-level suit (or high school diploma, as it was then). It was the same at university and they showed me my college’s assessment of me a few years ago (the records are kept in Bodleian) and it was pretty ordinary. When it comes to the final school test, I was able to say that I am smarter than myself and have these untapped resources that only the lack of time prevented me from showing. It was all part of the show I could do from elementary school.
August 16 Every night around eight we walk around the block – literally three minutes walk. What is normally one of Rupert’s good habits is to take all sorts of stray pieces of paper to put in the trash, and tonight on the corner of Regent’s Park Road he pulls out a piece of paper that turns out to be used) tissue. He is horrible and we hurry home so he can throw it away and wash his hands. What we didn’t realize was that it was a Thursday, and our progress was hampered by a fussy of applause and knocking on pans from neighbors on their balconies in honor of the NHS. Rupert can clap (even with the harmful tissue), but I can’t because I have to hold my cane. It also seems that as I walk the road, I am …
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