Buttercups and Daisies – Compton Mackenzie (1931)

It’s funny how a book that has sat on the shelf virtually ignored for a while suddenly catches your eye. That’s what happened with this plain old edition of Buttercups and Daisies – a perfectly good reading copy it dates from 1931 and is very foxed and showing its considerable age. I heard about it of course from Simon, whose infectious enthusiasm a little over two years ago, had me hurrying off to Ebay – and then the book was shelved on my horrendous tbr and forgotten all about. The Saturday before last, I was casting about for something new to read when my eye fell on this one, and I honestly couldn’t remember a thing about it. Opening it up and reading the first page or two was enough to convince me – I settled into the narrative straight away with a contented sigh and a smile on my face.

Compton Mackenzie is a pretty well known name, probably known best for his Scottish comic novels Whiskey Galore and Monarch of the Glen. However, I hadn’t read him before – and this one proved a thoroughly enjoyable introduction. Buttercups and Daisies comes about half-way through Mackenzie’s prolific writing career – and has certainly whetted my appetite for more one day.

If you enjoy books about house purchases – whether wise or otherwise – and the creation of a garden, then this could be for you. There are also plenty of laughs and a host of colourful characters, including a couple of boisterous boys whose idea of insulting one another is to call one another a big fat liar! It’s all wonderfully charming and proved great company over several very tiring days.  

The novel opens with the Waterall family at breakfast – when Mr Waterall – a fabulously comic, creation – a slightly pompous blusterer – exclaims that the very thing he has been after for years is advertised in the paper.

“This,” Mr. Waterall announced, on a fine Saturday morning in late September, as he gazed over the top of his paper at his wife, “this is what I have been looking for for years.”

Mrs. Waterall’s impulse was to suppose that her husband was enjoying one of those little triumphs to which he was periodically addicted. He had a habit of putting articles away in safe places, forgetting the place immediately afterwards, and accusing every member of his family, from his wife to the boy who came in to do the knives, of having interfered with his arrangements for security. Mrs. Waterall could not be blamed for assuming that. This was one of the mislaid treasures.

“For years!” Mr. Waterall portentously repeated. “Have the goodness to listen, my dear.”

His poor family are clearly long suffering, they consist of his wife – who is well used to soothing, placating and keeping her powder dry – two sons Ralph and Roger, thirteen and twelve respectively and a ten year old daughter Phyllis – who has mastered the art of affected simpering to get her own way. The boys get up to all kinds of mischief, quietly despise their sister and are constantly embarrassed by their father. So, when Mr Waterall tells his astonished family that he has always wanted a little country cottage – and here is one to be had in Hampshire for £125 – the news is greeted with some suspicion. Mr Waterall hurries off that very day to see about the cottage – his head full of grand plans and a romantic idea of country living. Mr Waterall is a fantastic creation, because he is completely benign, there is no nastiness in him, he isn’t really a bully or a tyrant – in fact he often shows great kindness – but he is faintly ridiculous, totally unaware of his own absurdities and thoroughly deluded.

“Mr Waterall, attired in a brown Norfolk suit and box-cloth gaiters, appeared in the hall. Ralph groaned. His father’s costume was even more conspicuous than his brother had led him to believe. Mercifully it was a dark wet afternoon, and under an overcoat, his father might not attract too much attention.”

Mr Waterall is met at the station by the man selling the cottage – and we see immediately the man is something of a rogue – he has set his heart on unloading his hated little cottage on Mr Waterall and sets about immediately charming and flattering Mr Waterall into the purchase. The cottage itself is a bit of a disappointment if Mr Waterall would allow himself to acknowledge it – which of course he doesn’t – two rooms and a lean-to kitchen a corrugated roof, blue paintwork and no mains water. Yet of course Mr Waterall buys the cottage – meaning it for a delightful country get-away for his family. It’s going to need some work though – a couple of new rooms built on to it for starters and a garden created from scratch. Mr Waterall doesn’t really know anything about plants – but he thinks he does.

Needless to say, the reality of this holiday cottage in the country – doesn’t quite match up with Mr Waterall’s grand fantasies. With no door on the kitchen lean-to, a cow wanders in while the family are having dinner – Phyllis falls down a well, and the neighbours prove a colourful bunch to put it mildly. The boys have some wonderful adventures including sneaking out at night to meet up with Texas Bill a fourteen year old whose rackety life with his hard drinking Uncle ‘Gus’ means he has a lot more freedom and is therefore viewed with a certain amount of glamour. The family have a lot of ups and downs over the next few months, but Mr Waterall’s belief in his country idyll never really waivers.

Buttercups and Daisies was a delightful bit of whimsical escapism, just perfect for my current frame of mind.