Letters to Parthenope, Julian and Nicola (1971). The Other Side of Genius: Family Letters

There does not seem to be anything to do but start a letter and add instalments until such time as the posts start again, if ever.1 We are bothered because of the chance – or certainty – of a railway strike.2 When I was doing my medical training we had the General Strike and I was hoping to get round to driving a railway engine. But it all came to an end before I got that far. Just as well for me and any passengers who might have been so unlucky as to have me for their loco man. I hope it does not get as bad as that although, because that is nearer a revolution than a strike3.

We have just seen the Apollo blast-off on TV. (‘If you've seen one blast-off you've seen them all’.) Sometimes it almost seems as if the moon may not be a bad place to be going to, but that I suppose is because there is no chance of being offered the trip.

“Cure”, said our neurological chief, “is a gloomy subject – the only thing is that our patients don't die. All the others in medicine do.” Not exactly a fair comment, but I can see what he meant. That is one reason I do not admit that psychoanalysis has really anything at all to do with cure. And now the other way round as well – cure has nowt to do with medicine.

As Mummy and I were sleeping the profound sleep of innocence there was suddenly a devilish and horrible noise. “There's that bloody picture down again”, I thought angrily, determined not to be fooled again as I was last time when it nearly brained us and I thought it was an earthquake. Well, this time it wasn't the picture. Mummy dived to get under the bed – she couldn't, it is too low and there is no room. I took my usual precautions – got under the bed clothes. This scheme – of which I make a present to you – has always worked and is a sovereign cure and protection against mosquitoes, 5.9 howitzer shells, tigers, phosgene, mustard gas, bad dreams and earthquakes. You cannot always tell which is which when you are