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À la recherche du temps perdu...
Dec. 29th, 2009 07:31 pmMike and Em and co stopped off for lunch and a chance to catch up on the latest gossip while en route to relatives elsewhere in the country. One way and another, we got to talking about Elain, who died shockingly and unexpectedly a couple of months back.
Mike mentioned that E had been instrumental in getting him his first supper invitation back when he first became one of my father's students. He'd made some off hand remark in conversation with E, wondering what my parents' house was like — probably after seeing the utter chaos of my father's office — not really expecting anything to come of it. Shortly after, my father tracked him down and invited him for a meal: "E says you'd like to come to dinner..."
My best memory of E is her triumphant return for nine months in Siberia, where she'd been doing field research. My father had promised he'd pick her up from Heathrow because we'd been in town to go to the proms and had arranged to head back to Coventry that evening, so the whole thing was no great inconvenience. But that evening's concert ran late and so, when the orchestra finally trooped off stage for the last time, we found ourselves sprinting for the car and powering off to the airport at a speed just shy of the sound barrier.
Arriving at the terminal building rather later than planned, we found it completely empty. After checking the waiting areas and checking whether the flight had landed on time — it had — we started wandering around trying to work out what had happened to E. Eventually, I spotted a pair of DMs sticking out from under a counter and, on checking, found Elain asleep. After we eventually woke her up, two flights with unlimited free booze having taken their toll, we eventually managed to get her to the car and on to the back seat — a bit of a challenge with a small, two door VW — and took off for home.
Amusingly, when she'd recovered from the combined effects of jetlag and Aeroflot alcohol, E couldn't remember enough about Heathrow to realise just how late we'd been, making our mad dash from Knightsbridge completely unnecessary...
Mike mentioned that E had been instrumental in getting him his first supper invitation back when he first became one of my father's students. He'd made some off hand remark in conversation with E, wondering what my parents' house was like — probably after seeing the utter chaos of my father's office — not really expecting anything to come of it. Shortly after, my father tracked him down and invited him for a meal: "E says you'd like to come to dinner..."
My best memory of E is her triumphant return for nine months in Siberia, where she'd been doing field research. My father had promised he'd pick her up from Heathrow because we'd been in town to go to the proms and had arranged to head back to Coventry that evening, so the whole thing was no great inconvenience. But that evening's concert ran late and so, when the orchestra finally trooped off stage for the last time, we found ourselves sprinting for the car and powering off to the airport at a speed just shy of the sound barrier.
Arriving at the terminal building rather later than planned, we found it completely empty. After checking the waiting areas and checking whether the flight had landed on time — it had — we started wandering around trying to work out what had happened to E. Eventually, I spotted a pair of DMs sticking out from under a counter and, on checking, found Elain asleep. After we eventually woke her up, two flights with unlimited free booze having taken their toll, we eventually managed to get her to the car and on to the back seat — a bit of a challenge with a small, two door VW — and took off for home.
Amusingly, when she'd recovered from the combined effects of jetlag and Aeroflot alcohol, E couldn't remember enough about Heathrow to realise just how late we'd been, making our mad dash from Knightsbridge completely unnecessary...
