A review by we_are_all_mad_here26
Christmas Pudding & Pigeon Pie by Nancy Mitford
3.0
Have now sadly finished reading the entirety of Nancy Mitford's fiction.
I preferred Pigeon Pie (originally published 1940) to Christmas Pudding (1932), primarily due to writing like this:
"Darling, I couldn't be a nurse. Florence has a first aid book and I looked inside it and saw a picture of a knee. I nearly fainted. I can't bear knees, I've got a thing about them."
And this:
"'The Press, m'lady,' he said with relish. 'Awful they've been. Nosing round everywhere and taking photos. And the lies they tell, I don't know if you saw, m'lady, they said cook had been with Sir Ivor ten years. It's not a day more than seven.'"
If only Nancy Mitford had had children, so that I could imagine being a long-lost descendant.
I preferred Pigeon Pie (originally published 1940) to Christmas Pudding (1932), primarily due to writing like this:
"Darling, I couldn't be a nurse. Florence has a first aid book and I looked inside it and saw a picture of a knee. I nearly fainted. I can't bear knees, I've got a thing about them."
And this:
"'The Press, m'lady,' he said with relish. 'Awful they've been. Nosing round everywhere and taking photos. And the lies they tell, I don't know if you saw, m'lady, they said cook had been with Sir Ivor ten years. It's not a day more than seven.'"
If only Nancy Mitford had had children, so that I could imagine being a long-lost descendant.