Insects

Trevor Leggett was head of the Japanese Department of the BBC.

This is one of his broadcasts to Japan

Zubari (undated)

Hello listeners!

Today’s talk is about things done under pressure, or under compulsion. When we are doing something reluctantly, under compulsion, we think: ‘As soon as this compulsion is removed, I shall stop doing this. What a relief that will be!’

But sometimes, when the pressure is gone, we feel differently. Here is a letter from a Japanese woman, a lawyer, which I noticed when it was published in a Japanese magazine:

(Recording of letter)

When I read that letter, I found it reminded me of something in my own life. After the Indian had gone, she had found that his influence remained. In my case, it was my mother. When she was getting old, she lived in my house. She was very strict about behaviour.

Sometimes, after my mother had gone to bed, I used to work late into the night. About one o’clock in the morning, I often made myself a pot of tea. I made the tea very simply: I put the teapot on the table, with a mug but no saucer. As to milk, I took a bottle from the refrigerator, and put that too on my working table. I did all this quietly.

But old people often sleep lightly, and sometimes my mother heard something, and came to see what it was.

When she saw the mug without a saucer, and the milk bottle on the table, she used to frown a little. She would pick up the bottle and the mug, go into the kitchen, and pour the milk into a proper milk jug. Then she brought it back, together with a small tray with a mat on it, and a cup and saucer. Then she poured me a cup of tea. Sometimes she would talk for a few minutes, and go back to bed.

When this had happened a few times, I resolved always to have my tea in the ‘proper’ way, as my mother wanted it. So, I always prepared a tray, with the milk in a milk jug, and never the bottle. When my mother saw this, she looked pleased. But, of course, it is more trouble. I always felt it was a waste of time.

Soon after she died, I had to work late again. I went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea, as usual. The thought occurred to me: ‘Now I can do it simply, without trouble.’ And I put out a mug, and the milk bottle on the table. But as I looked at it, I felt dissatisfied. There was nobody else in the house, no one to see. But I found myself pouring the milk into a milk jug, and laying a little tray carefully with a small mat on it, and a teacup with a saucer.

I suppose it was a sort of respect to the memory of my mother. Anyway, when I read the Japanese woman’s letter about the Indian and the insects, I was reminded of the milk jug in my own home.

Well, listeners – have any of you had such an experience?

© Trevor Leggett