In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

222 hunting the unicorn • nine • Public Figure, 1956–1966 Pitter soon became a familiar voice on BBC radio, appearing more than forty times between 1956 and 1966, most often on Woman’s Hour. While sometimes she read and discussed her poems, more often than not she delivered a scripted talk on a topic mutually agreed upon by Pitter and her producer. Although still driven to earn a living as an artisan, she found the extra income these talks provided a tangible comfort. She writes Russell: “I was brought up to be overanxious about money . . . and it gets me down; not that I am in want, oh dear no; I believe I could earn a living in a dozen ways, as long as I keep my health. . . . I have spent less than I earned all my life and always have a good bit in hand—though I have been so grateful for your jobs because they pay better than painting . . . and are so interesting too” (Jan. 9, 1956). Russell becomes increasingly important to Pitter, not only because he both arranged contacts for Pitter’s talks and actually produced them, but also because he did all he could to promote her verse. Although lacking the stature of Orage or Belloc, in the end he did perhaps more than either to keep Pitter in front of the public. A brief review of Pitter’s BBC radio broadcasts illustrates her fertile mind as well as her wide range of experience.1 In addition to her detailed memories of Orwell noted earlier, her talks offer reflections on topics such as beauty, romance , leisure, and children. One important cluster of broadcasts reminisces about her childhood experiences in Hainault Forest. “A Friendly Day” recalls a day in the forest when she and her sister, Olive, and her brother, Geoffrey, were left by their parents, who had to return to work. Pitter remembers: “[The cottage ] was on the edge of a forest. The front windows looked across a green slope to the trees. The back window looked over lovely fields. At the bottom of the slope was a brook. There were no real roads to the cottage, only a few tracks; so if you wanted to get anywhere you just had to walk.”2 On that day, rather than bickering, the children, with Ruth as the leader, decided to enjoy the delights of market day at the local village. The vibrancy of her recollections is best re222 public figure, 1956–1966 223 flected in her description of a candy maker: “There was a man making toffee. He’d boiled up a lot of sugar, and poured it into a thick rope; [then he threw] it over a strong hook fastened to his stall, and twisting and pulling and throwing it again, till it got quite light coloured and shiny and too hard to pull any more; then he cut it into pieces with a great pair of shears, and the pieces fell into a tin, and the next minute he was shoveling them into bags and handing them out to his customers.” She also remembers purchasing a little onion hoe for her father and how at the end of the day the three of them had dinner ready for their parents: “We were all clean and fresh, there were piles of logs ready to burn, the kettle was singing, the sausages and potatoes were sizzling in the oven, a large plate of toast was keeping hot in the fender, and the first owl was hooting outside. We looked at each other. We didn’t say anything, but I’m sure we were thinking, ‘This has been one of the nicest days of our lives. I’ll always remember it.’” She then ends the talk with a tender memory: “Dad was very pleased with the little onion-hoe. I’ve still got it. You can see where the blade is worn away at one side. No wonder. It’s been in use for forty-five years.” In “Glory Is Real” she remembers another day when their parents left it to Pitter to get herself and her siblings to an inn on the other side of the forest, some five or six miles away, where they would meet for lunch. She took this responsibility seriously: “No infantry subaltern, taking his company out on his first route-march, could have been more concerned than I was. And like the subaltern, I was not preoccupied with welfare efficiency and morale exclusively. I...

Share