On Christmas Day 1946, Evelyn Waugh writes in his diary:
“I made a fair show of geniality throughout the day though the spectacle of a litter of shoddy toys and half-eaten sweets sickened me. Everything is so badly made nowadays that none of the children’s presents seemed to work... I spent the day comparing the Diary of a Nobody with its serialised version in Punch. Laura [his wife] gave me a pot of caviare which I ate a week ago. My mother gave me a copy of Diary of a Nobody... I should like to think that from 29th October [the day after his birthday] onwards friends in all parts of the country were thinking ‘What can we give him for Christmas?’... But it is not so.”
On Christmas Day 1951, Harold Nicolson, at Sissinghurst, writes in his diary:
“I give Vita [Sackville-West] some bath towels (which I like, but she doesn’t), some sherry glasses (which she doesn’t like either), a flag for the tower (which she would have had to get in any case) and a new edition of Larousse (which she hates). Not a successful Christmas-gift ceremony.”
Barbara Skelton, then married to the literary critic Cyril Connolly, writes in her diary about spending Christmas Day 1953 at Ian Fleming’s house in Sussex:
“Since doing the Atticus column [the diary in the Sunday Times], Ian seems to have become a very dried-up and red-veined plain family man... After tea, present-giving. The Awkward Age from Peter [Quennell, literary critic and former boyfriend], a Henry James he gave me ten years ago, although I didn’t tell him so. From Ian some sexy black pants with black lace and a hideous beige galoshes bag. A pair of nylon stockings from Ann [Fleming]. And then, because Cyril had previously said to Ann ‘I wonder how Peter will find a solution between meanness and avoiding to appear so,’ he gave me an extra present of some bath essence. We gave Ian a bottle of Taittinger blanc de blancs which he had mentioned in his book [Casino Royale, the first James Bond novel, published earlier that year], without ever having drunk any. Ann was given an 18th-century Wedgwood paté dish which I would have liked to keep.”
On 26th December 1956, Christopher Isherwood writes in his journal:
“Well, here we [Isherwood and his boyfriend, Don Bachardy] are in New York... As usual, when on a holiday of this kind, I feel very disinclined to write anything in this book. Just can’t be bothered. But so far the trip is a success. I enjoyed going to the El Monaco on Christmas Eve and hearing the Salvation Army sing carols...
Julie [Harris, actress, who had played Sally Bowles in the film of Isherwood’s I Am A Camera] and Manning are more completely absorbed than ever in the business and game of being parents. They are nice to stay with... But their Christmas presents were worse than nothing—two ugly identical faggoty belts from Carlos McClendon’s shop.”
On 29th December 1959 the writer Frances Partridge records in her diary:
“We had Robert [Kee, journalist and historian] to ourselves for supper last night, a perfect companion. After going over Christmas with a fine comb and deciding how everyone ‘did,’ we got on to psychoanalysis, both in theory and practice. It was fascinating to hear about it from someone as realistic and averse to mumbo-jumbo as he is... And here is a fragment of the psychoanalysis of everyday life which has only just occurred to me: on Christmas Day at Stokke I saw a pretty jewelled object lying on a table and asked what it was. Cynthia’s present to Janetta, a key ring. Something clicked at the time, but only now do I see the significance of the present of a Kee-ring.” [Cynthia Judah married Robert Kee the following year. Janetta Woolley was his former wife.]
On 20th December 1961 Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire, writes to her sister Nancy Mitford:
“I’ll tell you about America when I see you (if you want to hear which I greatly doubt). It was the very height of jolliness (which you won’t believe) and the utter sweetness and great pathos of the President beats all. [The previous month she had stayed in Washington with President Kennedy, whose sister Kathleen had been married to the Duke of Devonshire’s brother].
Yesterday was rather fascinating as I was rung for by the Prime Minister [Harold Macmillan, her husband’s uncle] to brief him for Bermuda [a US-UK conference on nuclear strategy, 21st and 22nd December] and I had three quarters of an hour alone with him... I gave him my Christmas present for the dear old President... It’s a photograph of me surrounded by Protestant clergymen and some silver footman’s buttons he wanted, covered in crowns and snakes [a Devonshire family emblem]. I do hope he’ll like it.”
On Boxing Day, 1961 Deborah writes again to Nancy:
“No present from the President of the United States. It is the limit... Do you think he has difficulties of Xmas shopping?... I phoned Uncle Harold the night he got back to see how the presents went. He was fuddled by the snakes on the buttons I sent.”
“I made a fair show of geniality throughout the day though the spectacle of a litter of shoddy toys and half-eaten sweets sickened me. Everything is so badly made nowadays that none of the children’s presents seemed to work... I spent the day comparing the Diary of a Nobody with its serialised version in Punch. Laura [his wife] gave me a pot of caviare which I ate a week ago. My mother gave me a copy of Diary of a Nobody... I should like to think that from 29th October [the day after his birthday] onwards friends in all parts of the country were thinking ‘What can we give him for Christmas?’... But it is not so.”
On Christmas Day 1951, Harold Nicolson, at Sissinghurst, writes in his diary:
“I give Vita [Sackville-West] some bath towels (which I like, but she doesn’t), some sherry glasses (which she doesn’t like either), a flag for the tower (which she would have had to get in any case) and a new edition of Larousse (which she hates). Not a successful Christmas-gift ceremony.”
Barbara Skelton, then married to the literary critic Cyril Connolly, writes in her diary about spending Christmas Day 1953 at Ian Fleming’s house in Sussex:
“Since doing the Atticus column [the diary in the Sunday Times], Ian seems to have become a very dried-up and red-veined plain family man... After tea, present-giving. The Awkward Age from Peter [Quennell, literary critic and former boyfriend], a Henry James he gave me ten years ago, although I didn’t tell him so. From Ian some sexy black pants with black lace and a hideous beige galoshes bag. A pair of nylon stockings from Ann [Fleming]. And then, because Cyril had previously said to Ann ‘I wonder how Peter will find a solution between meanness and avoiding to appear so,’ he gave me an extra present of some bath essence. We gave Ian a bottle of Taittinger blanc de blancs which he had mentioned in his book [Casino Royale, the first James Bond novel, published earlier that year], without ever having drunk any. Ann was given an 18th-century Wedgwood paté dish which I would have liked to keep.”
On 26th December 1956, Christopher Isherwood writes in his journal:
“Well, here we [Isherwood and his boyfriend, Don Bachardy] are in New York... As usual, when on a holiday of this kind, I feel very disinclined to write anything in this book. Just can’t be bothered. But so far the trip is a success. I enjoyed going to the El Monaco on Christmas Eve and hearing the Salvation Army sing carols...
Julie [Harris, actress, who had played Sally Bowles in the film of Isherwood’s I Am A Camera] and Manning are more completely absorbed than ever in the business and game of being parents. They are nice to stay with... But their Christmas presents were worse than nothing—two ugly identical faggoty belts from Carlos McClendon’s shop.”
On 29th December 1959 the writer Frances Partridge records in her diary:
“We had Robert [Kee, journalist and historian] to ourselves for supper last night, a perfect companion. After going over Christmas with a fine comb and deciding how everyone ‘did,’ we got on to psychoanalysis, both in theory and practice. It was fascinating to hear about it from someone as realistic and averse to mumbo-jumbo as he is... And here is a fragment of the psychoanalysis of everyday life which has only just occurred to me: on Christmas Day at Stokke I saw a pretty jewelled object lying on a table and asked what it was. Cynthia’s present to Janetta, a key ring. Something clicked at the time, but only now do I see the significance of the present of a Kee-ring.” [Cynthia Judah married Robert Kee the following year. Janetta Woolley was his former wife.]
On 20th December 1961 Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire, writes to her sister Nancy Mitford:
“I’ll tell you about America when I see you (if you want to hear which I greatly doubt). It was the very height of jolliness (which you won’t believe) and the utter sweetness and great pathos of the President beats all. [The previous month she had stayed in Washington with President Kennedy, whose sister Kathleen had been married to the Duke of Devonshire’s brother].
Yesterday was rather fascinating as I was rung for by the Prime Minister [Harold Macmillan, her husband’s uncle] to brief him for Bermuda [a US-UK conference on nuclear strategy, 21st and 22nd December] and I had three quarters of an hour alone with him... I gave him my Christmas present for the dear old President... It’s a photograph of me surrounded by Protestant clergymen and some silver footman’s buttons he wanted, covered in crowns and snakes [a Devonshire family emblem]. I do hope he’ll like it.”
On Boxing Day, 1961 Deborah writes again to Nancy:
“No present from the President of the United States. It is the limit... Do you think he has difficulties of Xmas shopping?... I phoned Uncle Harold the night he got back to see how the presents went. He was fuddled by the snakes on the buttons I sent.”
