Open Writing

I have recently re-read one of my earlier articles titled Bookshops I have known, in which I refer to a play-reading of Helen Hanff’s famous play, 84 Charing Cross Road. Thinking about this author, whose output was small and infrequent, brought to mind her charming story about the Christmas party she and her friends held in her old-fashioned New York brownstone walk-up, many years ago.

As far as I can gather from the few hints Helen let drop in her writing, she appears to have come from a pretty ordinary background, but her ambition was always to become a writer. With little parental encouragement or support, she made her way to New York and inched herself into that demanding lifestyle by writing about, and for, almost any subject, or editor, who was willing to pay her.

She lived in a tiny one-roomed apartment in a rent controlled building and her work- table overlooked the busy street. Here she watched the locals going about their business and gloried in their eccentricities and foibles. She grew to know many of them well by sight, as well as the myriad activities of her neighbourhood.

But the highlights of her year were the festivities and parties she, and her friends in the building, held for one another.
In particular, I remember her charming story about the Christmas party held by an upstairs neighbour. Most of her friends seem to have been as strapped for cash as she was, so parties and entertaining were always given in a spirit of borrow and lend. Cups and plates from No. 11, silver forks, knives and spoons from 16 on the third floor and so on; special frozen dessert in 14’s deepfreeze (their apartment was larger than hers so they had the space for one) and so on. This particular Christmas they had planned a gala buffet supper and pulled out all the stops.

Helen had been given a new outfit by a well-wisher (possibly last year’s fashion the gifter was happy to clear from her closets) which suited her admirably, and she had made one of her famous pasta dishes. Other guests also brought gifts of food or drink, and it was anticipated that everyone would have a marvellous time.

To cap it all there was Bonzo. He was a pure-white Olde English Sheepdog with a large heavy body, huge paws and a thick, impenetrable fringe. In honour of the occasion, he sat at the front door wearing his special Christmas gift, a red and white spotted bow-tie and as guest after guest arrived, he solemnly raised his right paw and presented it to each one, greeting them ceremoniously before they entered the room and joined the festivities. Later in the evening, as the presents around the Christmas tree were opened, naturally there were additional presents for Bonzo and he stood at each recipient’s side as, one by one, they stripped the paper off their gifts and sniffed appreciatively as he examined each one. A dog of great character and charm, yet it took Helen’s special insight to capture the incident and write about it with such charm and delight.

Many of Helen’s delicate stories were illustrated with charming line drawings of her characters or the incidents, and this Christmas story and the accompanying illustration have stayed in my mind as a delightful recollection of a very special person.
She was someone who could find pleasure and delight in the smallest happenings and in many cases turn what to another would have been completely unremarkable into a never-to-be-forgotten story. She was also a woman who enjoyed the company of dogs of all sizes and breeds, she loved to walk in Central Park and join in the fun of the pooches racing free for their daily exercise, and her warm personality and out-going spirit endeared her to everyone.