An ordinary insight into an extraordinary man

25 Jul

Through the archive, Noël’s diaries and his letters we have a wealth of information to draw on about Coward.

All of it of course gives a unique insight into Noël’s work, the inspirations for his plays, his thought processes in composing and his collaborations with other theatrical figures.

But what is just as striking is how much insight we get into the more mundane aspects of Noël’s life.

This week I want to put a spotlight on Noël’s everyday life: what we can learn about the very ordinary existence of a very extraordinary man?

A Master of style?

Included in the archive are many items of clothing that belonged to Noël’s, including his famous gowns, top hat and cigarette holders.

But we also have more everyday items, including several pairs of his reading glasses and sunglasses from the 50s and 60s.

Noël was known for his sense of style but in private he had a fondness for rather ‘loud’ shirts! Our archive includes a selection of his collection.

The Boy Who Came to Supper

Noël’s public persona of caviar and sophisticated dining was not always born out.

John Mills once said that “Noël was carpet slippers really, and a steak and kidney pie and baked beans. He ate the most filthy food and ate it constantly.”

In New York for the first time, Noël and his friends spent a lot of time in their pyjamas, buying food from a little Italian deli and eating it with cheap red wine.

His diaries tell of Noël and his friend’s culinary adventures; some were successful - others less so.

A diary entry from 3 August 1947 speaks of how Graham Payn and Noël returned from a dinner party: “upon arrival we made a be-line for the kitchen and cooked eggs.”

Later that month he had a disastrous meal of clam-bake on a beach.

Thursday 14 August 1947

“Elaborate preparations: chicken, lobsters, clams, etc., were buried in the sand under seaweed and cooked from hours and hours. Net result disappointing. Nothing was cooked enough and everything was full of sand. Kit made a gallant effort to save the situation by building a fire and cooking the underdone dainties until they were black and still full of sand. The white wine was delicious provided you waited until the sand had sunk to the bottom of the mug. Finally we all came indoors and had some milk and angel cake, the lack of sand in which was somewhat shocking.”

In February 1956 Noël was spending a lot of time learning to cook.

Sunday 26 February 1956

Cole and I have cooked dinner every night this week. I am inclined to put in far too much flavouring, as in painting I put in far too much colour, but I am learning restraint. I am also learning to be fearless with eggs and undismayed by deep fat and flour and breadcrumbs. It all comes under the heading of living dangerously and maybe the day will come when I can cook a joint, stuff a chicken’s arse with butter, and make pastry so light that it flies away at a touch. My solo triumphs to date have been a chocolate mousse (plus cinnamon, Nescafe and Crème de Cacao), some rather curiously shaped croquettes, Kitchener eggs, sensational salad dressing with bacon rinds, various experimental soups originating from tins but rising to ambrosial heights after my pudgy fingers have been busy with herbs and garlic, and last but by no means least a coquille of shrimps and smoked oysters.

For a man who grew up eating Victorian food, his first visit to Jamaica was a revelation.

In 1944 he wrote to Lorn Loraine about the wonders of Jamaican food – which no doubt was at least part of the reason he fell in love with the country.

“I have Jamaican curries, sweet breadfruit and yams and Yampees, which are wonderful – Coconuts with everything, custard apples, cashew nuts.”

In the same letter he told Lornie: “If I can find a beach with a shack on it I shall buy it. I’ve a feeling that this is the place I’ve been looking for.”

Mad Dogs

In his spare time Noël of course read voraciously and attended plays and films.

He also painted, played cards and did the crossword.

Noël and partner Graham kept several cats and dogs, including Matelot and Joe, who arrived in 1945, and later Jollyboy in 1949.

Friday 2 November 1945

Gladys came for a drink and brought a kitten which we have christened Atco because it purrs like a lawn-mower.

Saturday 1 September 1951

Arrival of enchanting Siamese kitten christened first ‘Hurricane’ and later Wordsworth’.

Coward called Matelot “miniature and grey and enchanting. I am mad about it.’

Joe, in contrast, was “sweet but wicked”!