All language subtitles for Cold Comfort Farm 1995 Schlesinger solo en

I saw...

something nasty in the woodshed.

Help! Help! Help!

I've always found your choice
of hobby, madam, quite unique.

Yes. What do you think, Sneller?

Not really my department, madam.

Venus design. Waber Brothers, 1918.

Famed corsetiers to the gentry.
And if you look carefully,

you'll see it's got only two elastic panels
in front instead of the usual three.

So it has, madam.

It's Miss Poste. Poor thing.
Go and let her in.

Sneller, how are you? Very well, miss.

I'm so sorry to hear about your parents.
Thank you, Sneller.

Do you have one and six for the driver?
I'll see to it, miss.

Flora, darling, was
the funeral too awful?

Horrid. Though I'm bound to say...

all the London relatives
seemed to enjoy it no end.

Did any of them ask you to go and
live with them? I meant to warn you.

Relatives at funerals always do that.
Not me.

I've only a hundred pounds a
year, and I can't play bridge.

And I was never very close to my parents.

Of course you can stay here
as long as you like, darling,

but you'll probably want to take
up some kind of work sometime:

Earn enough for a fat of your own.

What kind of work?

It's ages since I did any, but there
must be something that would suit you.

Bookkeeping, beekeeping.
I can't do that, Mary.

Really. Now, Flora, don't be feeble.

You know you'd be miserable if you
haven't a job and all your friends have.

Besides, a hundred pounds a year..
Hardly keep you in stockings and fans.

Thank you, Sneller.
Battenburg! My favorite.

You must have some ambition.

I do. I want to be a writer.

When I'm 53, I mean to write a novel...

as good as Persuasion,
but with a modern setting.

Well, how will you spend the next 30 years?
Living life.

Collecting material. Surely
no one can object to that.

I have such a lot in common with Jane Austen.
Neither of us could endure a mess.

What will you live on.. or off?

Relatives. I'm peculiarly rich in them.

They haven't asked you.
The London ones haven't,

but there are plenty more
all over the country.

I'll send off some piteous letters tomorrow.
What shall we do tonight?

Are any of your admirers
back from their jungles?

You must see the New River club. It's
ever so smart and select. Sneller,

are any of the men home?

I believe Mr. Fairford and Mr.
Biscuit. Bikki!

Charles Fairford? He's a relative,
a sort of second cousin.

Telephone, madam.

Belgravia..

2211.

How was Kenya, Bikki? I've
heard awful things about it.

It's all true.

More bubbly? Just pour it, Bikki.

Mary says you want
to live with relatives.

You shouldn't have said, Mary. He might
think I want to go and live with him...

and was angling for an invitation.

You'd be very welcome. Mother
would love it if you did.

What do you do, Charles?

Embryo parson, actually. Well,
that really makes it awkward.

Anyway, you're not enough of a challenge.
I like to organize things and tidy up.

You seem tidy already.

Besides, I want to learn about real life.

What for? To put it in books.

I see.

How about it, Mary?

I think Bikki wants to dance.

What about that game of golf?

I say.

You ever think of getting married?

I believe in arranged marriages, don't you?
Rather out of date.

Not at all. I've always liked the
phrase "A marriage has been arranged."

When I feel like it, I'll arrange one.

If you get bored,
wherever you are, phone.

I'll come and rescue you in my plane.

Have you a plane, Charles? Belisha
Bat called 'Speed Cop Two'.

Are you sure an embryo parson
should have a plane?

Everyone should have a plane.
Really, Charles.

Post, Miss Poste.

There you are. They've all answered.
Now you'll be sorry.

Well, wait now. I'll have to
see what they have to say.

Then I'll make my choice.
Well, go on then.

"My dear Niece, Such a sad loss.."

But we must all keep a stiff upper lip.

You'd be most welcome here.

The Worthing air is bracing,
and dear Rosedale is always..

"Full of the happiest of boarders.

You'll find a true home
atmosphere and plenty of fun."

And cousin Peggy, now
Arkela of her own troop,

would love to share her bedroom with you.

"Your loving aunt Gwen."

Share. I couldn't.

I was shocked by your letter..

So shocked, my old trouble is back.

I am very willing to shelter
your wee girlhood under my roof,

but I fear you could find it dull...

with no company save
my poor chairbound self,

my man.. Hoots..

And my housekeeper, now totally deaf.

"Still, there is marvelous bird
life to be found in the marshes...

that surround my ruin on all sides."

"I must end now,

"as my old trouble is returning.

"Your loving uncle McKnag." No, Flora. No.

I've expected to hear from Robert
Poste's child these 20 years.

Child, my man once did
your father a great wrong.

If you'll come here,
I'll do my best to atone.

But never ask what for.
My lips are sealed.

"We're not like other folk maybe, but
there have always been Starkadders...

at Cold Comfort Farm."

Will you stop it? "And we will do our
best to welcome Robert Poste's child."

Child, child,

if you come to this doomed house,

what is there to save you?

"Your cousin, Judith Starkadder."

Judith Starkadder? The daughter
of my great-aunt, Ada Doom.

Whom Mother couldn't abide.

It sounds appalling.

Interesting and appalling. The
others just sound appalling.

Flora. I'm willing to bet...

there are also cousins
called "Seth" and "Reuben."

- Why?
- Highly sexed young men living on farms...

are always called "Seth" or "Reuben."

Really. I mean, there probably
isn't even a bathroom.

It is Sussex, for goodness' sake.

Well, if you've really made up your mind to go,
you'd better. You'll soon tire of it anyhow.

I think I will go.

I'm very keen to know what Cousin
Judith means by my "rights."

You have to change trains four times and
get out somewhere called Beershorn Halt.

Don't worry, Mary. There'll be
plenty of material for my novel...

and perhaps one or two family
messes I can clear up.

Something to take to the country.

Flowers come from the country, Charles.

It's very kind of you.

May I come with you to the station?

Please do. I like to go off in style.

Good-bye, my dove.

I shall expect regular letters from
you letting us know of your progress.

I can send you things. What things?

Proper clothes, cheerful fashion papers.

You'll need them. You've
never lived in the country.

I'm sure I'll find it very amusing.

Mind you, wire if you want
any gum boots or anything.

It was winter,

the grimmest hour of the
darkest day of the year.

No.

Really.

The golden orb had almost disappeared...

behind the interlacing fingers
of the hawthorn.

Adam Lambsbreath!

Steady, Graceless.

Come on, Feckless. Fill 'un up.

Adam? There you are.

How many pails today? Dunno know how
many, Miss Judith. 'Tis hard to tell.

If Pointless got over her indigestion,
maybe four. If not, maybe three.

Get out of there, Seth, you
no - good son of mine.

Good day, Mother. Do you
want to break my heart?

- That's right.
- Libertine. Who's that up there?

Just lookin' for eggs, Miss Judith.

Get back to the vicarage, Violet.

And another thing, Adam.

You'll have to take the trap down
to Beershorn Halt. Meet the train.

Robert Poste's child's comin' today.
After the farm, is she?

Mun I, Miss Judith?

Can't Seth go instead of me?

How can I look in her little
fower face knowing what I knows?

You remember what happened when he
went to meet the new kitchen maid.

No. You go, Adam.

Don't know how many times
I feared this day would come.

How will I know the little maidy?

Who else is gonna get off
at Beershorn Halt?

A man's huge body, rude
as a wind-tortured thorn,

was printed dark against
the fame of sun that...

That throbbed... that throbbed
on the tip of Mockuncle Hill.

- The golden orb..
- Beershorn!

Gh! How revolting!

Don't you know this trap's filthy?

Are ye the little maidy,
Robert Poste's child?

Yes, I'm the little maidy. Who are you?

Adam. Adam Lambsbreath.

Ye get up. I'll see to them,
Robert Poste's child.

Miss Poste. Or Miss Flora, if you
want to be completely feudal.

Where's this?
Howlin; Robert Poste's child.

Howling? Are we nearly there?

Another few miles yet,
Robert Poste's child.

Git on, Viper.

What's the farm like? The seeds wither
and the earth will not nourish 'em.

The cows are barren. The sows are farren.

All is turned to sourness and ruin. Dear.

Is there no money? 'Tain't money.

There's a curse on the place,
Robert Poste's child.

'Tis the Starkadders'doom.

I'm sure it's not as bad as all that.

Viper.

There, Viper.

Well, it is a little gloomy, I agree.

Viper!

Get 'e down, Robert Poste's child.

How do you do? You must be Cousin Judith.

It's so good of you to have me. Isn't
it curious we've never met before?

'Tis Robert Poste's child, all right.

That's Graceless, looking out for me.

You get back to your cows, Adam.
My luggage.

Meriam'll bring it. This way, Miss Poste.

I think, just for tonight,
I'll eat in my room if I may.

It's cold there. I expect a
fire will soon warm it up.

My sons'll be sorry.

They wanted to see their little cousin.

Your sons? Seth and Reuben.

Seth and Reuben. Really?

Well, I'll see them tomorrow, I'm sure.

Someone has a hearty appetite.
Follow me, Miss Poste.

Nobody shall say we didn't do
right by Robert Poste's child.

No. Quite.

Thank you.

Hey, Elfine.

My little water - vole.
My little water - vole.

- You'd never sell Feckless!
- I do what I like!

Who could've tended the poor,
dumb beasty better nor I?

I knows what's in her heart better than I
knows what's in the hearts of some humans.

Look at her! Be hard to find
a knacker's man who'd take her.

And another thing! I don't
pay ye wages to collect...

chicken feathers and sell 'em
down Beershorn for good money!

That weren't I! May I never set
hand on plough again if it were!

That were rk! I say.

Do you think you would mind not
talking quite so loudly, please?

Some of us are trying to sleep.

Wife, where's Elfine?

Not up yet, I expect, Amos.

Godless habit, lyin' abed
of a workin' day.

The reekin' fires lie waiting
for them as do.

What a family I'm cursed with.

You'll fritter and fry
in hell, the lot of you!

Meriam passed out this morning.

Bless her.

Reckon her time's come, Seth?

Robert Poste's child here, innit she?

After your inheritance, Reuben?

Robert Poste's child.

Well, some of us has farmin' to do.

Rk, time the barren field were
gone over with a prunin'snoot.

Reuben, get plowin'
down Nettle Flitch. Seth,

you drain the well.

There's a neighbor missin'.

So you're the little lady from London...

with your smart ways?

I know your sort.

Drain away a man's blood
soon as look at him.

Seth, after you've done the well,

you get scrattlin'
up at Ticklepenny Corner.

Come on, Miss Poste.
Adam will get you breakfast.

Is there any bread and
butter and some tea, Adam?

I don't much care for porridge.

Bread and butter in the crocket.
Tea in the pot.

Now leave me in peace. I mun cletter
the dishes, Robert Poste's child.

That's a twig. What you want is a
nice little mop with a handle.

It would get the dishes cleaner
and be so much quicker too.

Don't want no mop with a handle.
I've clettered dishes...

with an old thorn twig nigh on 50 year.

And what was good enough then
is good enough now, is it?

Aye.

Adam, I've been thinking
about the Starkadders' doom.

Why doesn't Cousin Amos just sell this and
buy a farm that doesn't have a curse on it?

In Berkshire or Devon, perhaps. Nay.

There's always been Starkadders
at Cold Comfort Farm.

'Tis impossible for any of
us to dream of leavin'.

Mrs. Starkadder's set on us stayin'. 'Tis
her life... the very life in her veins.

Cousin Judith, you mean? She
doesn't seem very happy here.

No, I mean the old lady,
old Mrs. Starkadder.

Is she dead? No.

No, miss, she's alive right enough.

Her hand lies on us like iron,

but she never leaves her room,

never sees no one but Miss Judith.

Ain't left the farm these
20 year. That be her tray...

There she is, my little wennit.

- Gracious. Who's that?
- That's my cowdlin'.

That's Elfine Starkadder.

Does she always charge about like that?

She's as wild and shy
as a pharisee of the woods.

Days, she's gone wandering the downs...

with only the spyin'magpies and
little rabbits for company.

No thought for them as loved her
and cowdled her in their bosom...

when she were a mommet.

How trying. I'll take the tray, Adam.

No, miss! I doubt she
even know you're here.

I understand what to do. Just
leave it outside her door.

No, m..

Elfine. What do you want?

Cousin Judith's room. Be a
lamb and show me the way.

It's that way.

Do forgive me saying so, but
I'd love to see you in blue.

Some shades of green
are good, of course, but...

dull greens are very trying,
I always think.

Definitely blue. You try it and see.

Who's that?

It's Urk. He's horrible!

He's after me again. Go away!

Who's there?

Good morning. I'm so sorry to interrupt
you while you're busy writing letters.

Busy? Busy weavin' me
own shroud, be like.

You can do what you please round
the farm, Robert Poste's child,

if you don't break in on me loneliness.

Give me time and I'll atone for
the wrong my man did your father.

Give us all time and we'll atone.

I don't suppose you'd care to
tell me what the wrong was.

My lips are sealed, Miss Poste.

Just as you like, Cousin Judith.

Now, can we discuss my keep?
I have a hundred a year.

I wouldn't touch a single penny
of Robert Poste's money.

While you're here, you're
a guest of Cold Comfort.

Every middock will be
paid for by our sweat.

While I'm here, might I
make a few changes?

I adore my bedroom, but do you think
I could have my curtains washed?

I believe they're red, but I
should like to make sure.

Child, child, it's years
since such trifes...

broke across the web of my solitude.

Perhaps Meriam could wash them.

- Not now. Her time has come.
- She's in labor? Where?

- Is the doctor there?
- You leave her be.

Every year when the sukebind
flowers, it's the same thing.

Just the hand of nature.
We women can't escape it.

Of course we can! Who's responsible?

Cursed be the day I brought him forth...

and the nourishment
he drew from my bosom.

Cursed be the wooing tongue
God gave him...

to bring disgrace upon weak females.

Right. Well, if you'll
excuse me, Cousin Judith,

I have a few things to attend to.

Who's there? Are you all right?

It's Miss Poste, from the farm.
What do you want?

May I come in?

Come to mock me in my shame, mum?

I thought you were in labor.
I heard you cry out.

Had it last night.
I was just moaning a bit.

It's not so bad if you keep your
spirits up and eat hearty aforehand.

Is it your first? 'Tis my fourth.

And who knows what'll happen again
when the sukebind's out in the hedges.

Now look, Meriam, nothing need happen
so long as you use your intelligence...

and see it doesn't.

Haven't you heard of family planning?
No, mum.

You can prevent it. All you need's a little
rubber bowler hat to stop it happening again.

- The doctor can show you.
- What would I look like in a rubber bowler hat?

- You wear it inside, Meriam.
- No, mum. 'Tis fyin' against nature, that is.

Nonsense. Nature's
all very well in her place,

but she mustn't be allowed
to make things untidy.

Now remember, Meriam, no more
sukebind and summer evenings...

without a few preparations beforehand.

If you'll wash my bedroom
curtains for me, I'll pay you.

That can go towards buying whatever
it is your children have to eat.

Mornin', miss.

Hello, Mother. She wants me
to wash her bedroom curtains.

Who's "she"? The cat's mother? You
speak proper to the young lady.

Never thought I'd hear anyone wanting
washing done at Cold Comfort.

She'll wash 'em for you, miss. How is he?

Fine. They always does.

Well, you needn't sound as
if you wish they wouldn't.

Lord knows, none of'em was very
welcome, poor little innocents.

Still, now they're here, we might
as well look after 'em right.

Come another four years,
I'll start makin' use of'em.

How?

Train the four of'em up
for one of them jazz bands.

They get six pound a night playin'
up west in the nightclubs.

That's why we got to look
after 'em right. Yeah.

He's gonna be a trombone player.
Look at his mouth.

A telegram, madam.

It must be from Flora.

Do read it, Sneller.

"Worst fears realized.
Seth and Reuben too.

Everything needs changing.
Send magazines."

Morning. Morning.

Not so bad now? No.

Lunches, dear? We do, but only in August.

Not always then. You can
have what we're havin'.

Got to cook my gentleman's dinner.

No, my dear. That's Mr.
Hawk-Monitor from up the Hall.

He's a real gentleman. He don't eat here.

My gentleman's a Mr. Mybug from London.
He's a book writer.

Not another. There he is now.

Walks the High Weald all hours, he does.
Then comes in covered in mud.

Good day, all. Nice walk, Mr. Mybug?

I have freely wandered the ample
suckling breasts of the welcoming hills.

A pint of cider, if you would, Mrs.
Murther.

Ayoung lady askin' after you.

Flora Poste, isn't it?

May I sit down? We met at
the Polswetts in October.

Did we, Mr. Mybug? Meyerburg.
Don't you remember?

Harriet Belmont sat naked on the
grass and played to us on her fute.

Actually, the Polswetts said you were down
here. I rather hoped I would run into you.

Better go up and dry off,
hadn't you, Mr. Mybug?

Yes, yes. Dear me, I do seem somewhat
soaked in nature's fecund blessing.

I shall see you in a very few
moments, my dear Miss Poste.

But let me warn you.
I'm a queer, moody brute,

but there's rich soil in here
if you care to dig for it.

Mrs. Murther, I think I'll do without
lunch today after all. All right, dear.

Good - bye.

Hello.

I thought I'd introduce
the custom of afternoon tea.

Do you take milk?

I scranletted 200 furrow
come 3:00 down in the bute.

Did you? Aye.

Did too.

All the way from Ticklepenny
Corner to Nettle Flitch.

Could you 'a' done that?

No, indeed. I certainly couldn't, Reuben.

But then, you see, I shouldn't want to.

Take the farm, pay hired men, I'd wager.

Waste all the takings. No, I wouldn't.

I wouldn't care if Ticklepenny
Corner wasn't scranletted at all.

I'd let you do it instead. Let? Let!

That's a fine word to use to a man...

that's nursed this farm
like a sick mommet,

knows every inch of soil and
patch of sukebind in the place.

Let's get it straight, Reuben.
I don't want the farm.

I'm the last person in the world to
be any good at scranletting. Really.

I prefer to leave it to people
who know all about it. Like you.

What's that you're makin'?
A bath towel, Seth.

Would you like some tea?

You women are all alike.

Fussin'over your fal - de -
lals to bedaze a man's eyes?

And what you really want is his blood,

his pride and the heart out ofhis body.

- Really?
- Aye.

And then when you got him, bound up in
your fal-de-lals and your softness...

and he can't move 'cause of the longin' that
cries in his blood, what do you do then?

I'm afraid I don't know, Seth.

Would you mind passing me that
reel of cotton on the dresser?

This what you're after?

Thank you.

You eats him.

Same as a hen spider eats a cock spider.

But I don't let no women eat me.

I eats them instead.

You don't understand what I'm
sayin', do you, little innocent?

Yes, and I think it's dreadful.

What do you do in the evenings, Seth?
When you're not eating people.

- Go over Beershorn to the talkies.
- You like the talkies?

Better than anything in the whole world.

Seventy-four photos of Lottie Funchal.

Forty ofJennie Carroll.

Fifty - five, Laura Valley.

All signed ones.
That's where I'm goin' now.

D'you want to come?
They're showin' 'Street Sinners'.

I saw it in London, actually.
Thank you, Seth. You'll enjoy it.

Women.

You'll be glad to know my campaign
for tidying up Cold Comfort Farm...

is going rather well.

"I've already begun
to soften the dour Reuben,

and I think I've discovered the real
nature of Seth's grand passion."

"I've started teaching the hired
girl the precautionary arts..."

Very good. "All part of my mission..."

"to drag them into the modern world,

"and I'm also getting
my bedroom curtains washed,

"but I still have to meet Aunt Ada Doom,

"and I have no idea what
wrong was done to Papa.

Please send this month's Vogue."

From the stubborn interwoven
strata of his unconscious,

thought seeped up into his dim...

conscious,

not as an integral part
of that consciousness,

but rather as an impalpable emanation...

from the unsleeping life of the
nature that surrounded him.

The golden orb...

The golden orb...

Dear.

Amos!

Where you going? Preachin'. At Beershorn.

At the Church of the Quiverin' Brethren.

They'll all burn in hell, and
someone's gotta tell them so.

May I come with you? Think you'll
escape from the fires of hell...

if you come along with me
and bow down and quiver?

'Tis too late, young lady.
You'll burn with the rest.

Well, I should like to see it, even so.

Why are they called "Quivering Brethren"?

Why? Because they quiver when
they prepare for torment.

Do you prepare your sermons
beforehand or does it just come?

Word is never prepared. It falls
on me mind like manna from heaven.

Really? How interesting.

Then you have no idea what you're
going to say before you get there?

Aye. I always know it'll
be summat about burnin'.

And does anyone else preach,
or are you the only one?

Only me.

Deborah Checkbottom, she tried onceways
to get up and preach, but she couldn't.

The Lord weren't in her.

Whate'er shall we do O Lord.

When Gabriel blows o'er sea and river.

Fen and desert mount and ford.

The earth will burn but we will quiver.

Whatever shall we do O Lord.

When crops do fail and blossoms wither.

God's great wrath be not ignored.

The earth may fail but we will quiver.

Amen.

Ye miserable, crawlin'worms.

- Are ye here again then?
- Aye.

Have ye come like Nimshi,
son of Rehoboam,

secretly out of your doomed houses,

to hear what's comin' to ye?

Aye. Have ye come, old and young,

sick and well, matrons and virgins...

If there be any virgins amongst
you, which is not likely,

the world being in the
wicked state that it is.

Aye. Have ye come to hear me tell ye...

of the great crimson,
licking fames of hell fire?

Aye! Aye!

You've come, dozens of ye,

like rats to the granary, like field
mice when there's harvest home.

And what good will it do ye?

You're all damned!

Damned!

Do you ever stop to think
what that word means?

No-o-o-o. No, you don't. It means...

endless, horrifying torment.

It means your poor, sinful bodies
stretched out on red-hot gridirons...

in the nethermost fiery pit of hell...

and those demons mocking ye while
they waves cooling jellies...

in front of ye.

You know what it's like
when you burn your hand...

takin' a cake out of the oven...

or lighting one of them
Godless cigarettes?

And it stings with a fearful pain. Aye?

And you run to clap a bit of butter
on it to take the pain away, aye?

Aye. Well, I'll tell ye.

- There'll be no butter in hell!
- No!

And your body will be burnin'and
stingin' with that terrible pain!

And your blackened tongue will
be stickin' out of your mouth,

and your parched lips
will be cryin'out for...

Cakes and an orange with sugar on it.
Thank you.

Miss Poste! May I join you?

Mr. Mybug. I suppose so. Meyerburg.

I'll have what she's having, please.
Very well, sir.

I do love eating with a spoon, don't you?

Now, Miss Poste, perhaps you can help me
on a matter that's been troubling me.

Do you believe that women have souls?

I'm afraid I'm not very interested.
Quite.

I do so agree. Bodies matter so much
more than souls, don't you think?

Or are you, alas, like so many young Englishwomen,
a prisoner of outdated inhibitions?

Do you know what D.H. Lawrence said?
I do, actually, yes.

He said there must always be a dark,
dumb, bitter belly tension...

between the living man
and the living woman.

Mr. Mybug, do tell me about
the book you're writing.

Excuse me, sir. Well... Thank you.

Thank you, sir. I intend to prove...

that Branwell Bronte
wrote Wuthering Heights...

and 'Jane Eyre' and
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.

A work of fiction, is it?

Yes, well, that's enough about me. Tell me,
Miss Poste, do you care about walking?

What about it? I thought we might
take some nature walks together,

go on discussing
art and literature like this.

But I'd better warn you.
I'm pretty susceptible.

Well, then, perhaps we should postpone
the walks until the weather's finer.

It would be too bad if your book was
held up because you'd caught a cold.

I'm talking about sex, Miss Poste! Yes.
You see, I believe in utter frankness...

about sexual things.

Aye, ye fornicators. Fornicators!

No, I assure you, Miss Poste
and I are just old friends.

- We met in London.
- Aye, the devil's city.

The stinkin' pit of whoredom.
Come on, young lady.

It's back to Cold Comfort for you!

Ye'll fritter and fry. Ye didn't
even stay to hear the Lord's Word.

I was overwhelmed, Cousin.
You're such a powerful preacher.

Aye, the Word burns in me mouth,

and I must blow it on the
whole world like fames.

You ought to do it more widely, Cousin Amos.
What do ye mean?

You shouldn't waste it on a few
miserable sinners in Beershorn.

You could go round the country in a
Ford van preaching on market days.

'Twould be exalting myself
and puffin' myself up...

if I went around in one of they vans.

Thinkin' of my glory
'stead of the Lord's.

You could save thousands of souls.
That's how I'd look at it...

if I were going round the
country in a Ford van.

What kind of Ford van?

Has she been askin' about me, Robert
Poste's child? What does she want?

She's been here more than a week. She
keeps askin' to see you, Mother.

Couldn't you come down
just once and talk to her?

You know I never come down except for the
countin', not after what happened to me.

She's Robert Poste's child.
She has her rights.

Saw something nasty in the woodshed.

I never spoke of it, not even to Mama.

But I've always remembered it every day
of my life. It's made me the way I am.

Yes, Mother. It's the
farm she wants, isn't it?

She's your sister's grandchild.
She's owed... She's owed nothin:

She should never have come here. She's
playin' her wiles on all of you.

I've watched her. Reuben, Seth, now Amos.

I'm not havin' it, girl. There've
always been Starkadders...

at Cold Comfort Farm. At Cold Comfort Farm.
Yes, Mother, don't upset yourself.

Starkadders! Always were, always will be.

Tell her, girl. Tell her! Hear what I said?
Starkadders!

Adam, you're not using that nice dish
mop I bought you for the clettering.

Nay. I'd never put that pretty
in gurt-greasy washing-up water.

I mun do that with thorn twigs.
They'll serve.

'Tis prettier than apple
bloom, my little mop.

Is something wrong, Adam?

'Tis my little wennit.
What's the matter with her?

She's always peerin' through
the windows up Howchiker Hall...

to get a sight of that young
chuck-stubbard Master Richard.

Dick Hawk-Monitor? Arr! Blast him...

for a setup yearlin' of a womanizer.

I hear he's nice enough.

You knows the ways of gentry.

Him the young squire and her just
a little wennit out of nature.

Indeed I do know the ways of gentry.

I'm sure he means no harm.

The problem is, Elfine's
not quite the sort gentry marry.

'Tis what I mean. Leave it to me, Adam.
I'll talk to her.

Poor little wennit.

Sister Sun and Brother Wind,

dancin' through the woodland trees,

this little ode to you I sing...

and whisper it upon the breeze.

Really, Elfine, don't you think
you sometimes overdo it a bit?

Overdo what? This will-o'-the-wisp thing.

Who encouraged you to be like that?

Miss Ashford from the Arts and
Crafts Shop in Beershorn.

She was so kind to me.
She taught me such a lot:

How to dress, how to speak beautifully.

And she had such lovely things.

And she made you read poetry.

Write it, too, probably. Yes. I'm going
to publish a volume when I'm 50.

And that's why you have to be
alone on the hillsides, is it?

Yes. It's where I can be
with my poetry and my dreams.

Anyway, I can't stand the
farm another minute. Why not?

Urk, of course. He's horrible.

He's always in the tree outside
my window, spying on me.

Grandma Doom says I'm promised
to marry him when I'm 18.

No! Why? Because he's a Starkadder.

And there have always been
Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm.

But there's someone else, isn't there?

How did you know? There always is.

Dick Hawk-Monitor at the Hall? Yes?

Are you engaged to him? Engaged? No.

No, it's... It's too binding.

Don't you think it's horrible
to bind someone down?

I see. So he doesn't want to marry you.

I think he does sometimes,

but he's got this London
cousin called Pamela.

It's his 21st birthday party next month.
They're bound to get engaged then.

Next month? Well, then,
it's quite simple.

You must go to this party
and win him over.

I can't go to the party. Grandma Doom
doesn't let us accept invitations.

Only to funerals and
the churchin' of women.

Look! There he is! Isn't he fine?

Yes. He should suit you very nicely.

Would you like me to help you?

Reuben. Miss Poste.

Goin' to church again
with the old devil? No.

I was advising Cousin Amos to address
his sermons to a wider audience.

Wants to frighten the birds
off the trees, does he?

Think about it, Reuben.
If he were away preaching,

someone else would need
to take charge of the farm.

And so I'll have to one day,
when the old devil dies.

But he talks of leaving it to Adam.

Wouldn't it be better if whoever took
charge got a real grip on things...

so when Cousin Amos came back, he could
see it ought to be left to that person?

I get it. Meaning you.

No, Reuben, I've told you before, I
don't want the farm. Meanin'who, then?

Meaning you, Reuben.

Who, me? Aye, thee.

'Tis impossible.

Aunt Ada'll never let him go.

If anyone talks o' leavin',
she has an attack.

She's ill. How does it show?

Has to know everythin' as goes on.

Has to see the milk book,
chicken book, cow book.

We keeps back the books,
she has an attack.

We ask for pocket money,
she has an attack.

Anyone wants to wed, she has an attack.

Anyone want to leave Cold Comfort...

She ain't like
other people's grandmothers.

She's mad, and that's all.

I see. Well, just because
Aunt Ada is mad,

that's no reason why you shouldn't
persuade Amos to go on his preaching tour.

Dang me if it don't.

Aunt Ada, isn't it time we talked?

I saw something nasty.
Saw something nasty!

Aunt Ada! Something
nasty in the woodshed.

Go away, girl!

How long have you been
in there, Aunt Ada?

Ever since myJudith married Amos.

Isn't it lonely? Lonely?

I saw something nasty in the woodshed.
Did you? What?

I don't remember anymore. I was little.

Something terrible!

And it was in the woodshed? Are you sure?

Course I'm sure.

Or maybe the potting shed.
Or the bicycle shed.

Or the tool shed.

All these years,
getting five good meals a day,

running the farm, ruling the
roost, everyone doing...

exactly as you say and sacrificing
their lives to yours?

That's not bad, is it, just for seeing
something nasty in the woodshed?

Everything depends on me.

Does it?

The bull's out.

- Big Business?
- Is that bad?

That's terrible. Someone'll get hurt.
Urk, get the bull fork.

Adam, come on! Bull's out! Where's Seth?

Dang Seth! Come on! All right!

Somethin' to do with you, isn't it?
Why me, Urk?

I know you're tryin' to take
Elfine away from me. She's mine.

She were promised me the day she was born.
You heed what I say.

Urk! When the water-voles mate
this summer, she be mine.

Better hurry, Urk. The bull's out.

Come on!

No, boy! Come on, boy!

Elfine!

Voila. No, no. Low here?

That's lovely. Yes, that's it.

You happy, darling?
Yes, I think that's sweet.

Right here.

Round neck, I think.

Yes, I think a small train.
And then somewhere here,

we're needing a bit of uplift, I think.

Here we have a prime example of Ecole de
Paris painting. He's also very keen...

on the whole calligraphic effect of his
painting, the very linear quality of it.

Always with his work, you find...

Flora, what do you think?
No, please, look at this.

Higher Common Sense.
Very good. Very clever.

Especially the introduction.

That's for you. Thank you.

I think she's charming.
Wait 'til we've finished.

Do you like your new dress, Elfine?
It's heavenly.

It's white satin, straight lines.
Better than poetry?

Do explain to her about poetry, Mary.

Do I gather that you love poetry and
think that if you talk about it...

to a young man like Dick
Hawk-Monitor, he'll be pleased?

- Everybody loves poetry.
- - Most decent young men are totally alarmed...

when they hear that a girl
reads it, let alone writes it.

Tell her, Charles. Dick Hawk -
Monitor's a perfectly nice chap.

- You know him?
- Of course. And his mother. Rather well, actually.

But poetry and Dick...

No, quite frankly. In fact,
when poetry's combined...

with ill-groomed hair and eccentric
dress, it's generally fatal.

You're very lucky, Elfine. He
must have seen your finer points.

I shall write it secretly then.
Quite right.

It's bad to be dewy-eyed among smart people,
but you can always secretly despise them.

You see, Elfine, we tell you these things so
you'll have some standards inside yourself,

now you're going to meet
a new kind of life.

Everything arranged, Charles? Absolutely.

- What's arranged?
- Never mind.

Charles is going to help. I said I might.

Who's this man Mybug?

Just a strange Lawrentian person
who says he's in love with me.

Jealous, Charles?

Good. Enjoying yourself, Elfine?

It's going to be such fun.
No, it's going to be...

"amusing" or "diverting,"
not "such fun," darling.

Hi there, Flora Poste.

Mr. Neck! Hello! Back on
one of your London trips?

Yeah, I few into the Savoy this morning.

This is Earl P. Neck, the Hollywood movie
czar. We met at the Paris Film Club.

My friend Mary Smiling.

- Mary!
- Elfine.

Elfine!

Charles. Charles.

Won't you join us? Thank you, thank you.

Tell me, Mr. Neck,

what exactly does a czar do?

What do I do?

Imagine the night sky. What do you see?

- Clouds?
- You see stars.

And what you see up there,
I spot down here.

I take ordinary people,
and I turn 'em into asteroids.

Flora does the same. This is her latest.

She's wonderful! And so are you, Miss Poste.
You care to rumba?

Smythe-Forsythes. h -

Smith-Jones, Clyde-Forresters.

Miss Gertrude Forster. Those
unfortunate Field-Morrisons.

And I've invited Pamela's parents.

Just in case there's a
double celebration. Mother!

Flora, I feel sick. You can't feel sick.
Everything's arranged.

Is Urk out the way? Saw him
down Ticklepenny Corner,

talkin' to the water-voles.

I say, this is all
awfully Gothic, isn't it?

You do look extremely nice,
Flora. The dress is charming.

And as for your protege, she's quite
beautiful. Don't chatter, Charles.

Just drive quietly off.

I say.

Roger! How lovely to see you.

My dear, what a beautiful dress!
Have a lovely time.

James! How lovely to see you.
Hello, Jane. How are you?

Have fun. Charles!
All the way from London.

You didn't travel up with Pamela, by any
chance. Afraid not, Mrs. Hawk-Monitor.

May I introduce Flora Poste?
She's staying locally, actually.

What a shame, Miss Poste. We haven't seen
anything of you. Where are you staying?

I'm just staying a few miles up the road
with relatives. It's my first evening out.

Well, have a lovely evening.
Thanks very much.

All right, thank you. Good evening.
Who's that?

Elfine. You look incredible.

Is it working? I should say so.

I must go downstairs. Mother.

You're mistaken. 'Tis not the first of
May nor the seventeenth of October.

You bide here. I tell you
I must go downstairs.

I must have you all round me. I must
have all the Starkadders round me.

To see if anyone's missing.
Nobody's missing, Mother.

Get me my liberty bodice, girl.
And the elastic-sided boots.

I hope you're not feeling neglected, Seth.
No, I aren't.

London girls. Them told me I was
absolutely body - thrillin:

So you are, Seth. They're all the same.

Only want your blood, your breath,
the very heart of your thoughts.

I ain't got no time for that.
What have you got time for, Seth?

Movies. There was a dance just
like this in 'Criminal Lusts'.

Shall we try it then?

Miss Poste. Miss Poste!

I love you! Miss Poste!

You do enjoy yourself, don't you?

I try to bring people round
to the higher common sense.

I shouldn't let you do that to me.
Think of all the good I do.

Elfine's the belle of the ball.
Dick has the girl he wants.

Seth's enjoying himself teasing
all the London debutantes.

And you're having a lovely time with me.

Take your disgusting
bourgeois hands off me!

Miss Poste! Miss Poste!
Tell them who I am!

- He's Mr. Mybug, a famous writer.
- I'm sorry, miss.

This is a private party. Come on, sir.
Miss Poste! Miss Poste!

I'm engorgingly in love with you!

I can't help feeling a bit sorry for him.

Never mind. We're all
purified by suffering.

He's so obnoxious. I haven't the heart to
tell him that's why I won't let him kiss me.

He thinks I'm inhibited. I'm not, of course.
I'm not obnoxious.

No, Charles. Exactly. Speech! Speech!

Speech!

Ladies and gentlemen, friends,

Lord Lieutenant,

I'm really glad you
could all come to my 21st.

Mama hasn't thrown a bash for me like this
since I was wearing a christening dress.

- Anyway, this has been a particularly fine evening.
- - Hear, hear!

No, I mean for me.

Because, well, I've
something to tell you all.

Miss Elfine Starkadder and I
have just become engaged.

- Elfine?
-

For they are jolly good fellows.

For they are jolly good fellows.

For they are jolly good fellows.

And so say all of us.

And so say all of us And so say all of us.

For they are jolly good fellows.

For they are jolly good fellows.

For they are jolly good fellows.

And so say all of us.

It was wonderful, Flora! The
happiest night of my life!

Yes, a brilliant evening, Flora.
Congratulations, Elfine.

Just better hope Grandma
don't stop it now?

I thought you told me
they'd all be in bed.

It's Grandma. She's come downstairs.

I reckon she's holding a countin'.
What counting?

We a rum lot, us Starkadders.
Some of us goes barmy.

Some of us dies in childhood. Some
of us pushes others down wells.

So once a year, Grandma holds a little
gatherin'... called the countin'.

She must be doin'it
early for some reason.

Charles, thank you.

Come back to London with me. No, Charles.

It's not finished yet.

I say, Flora.

When am I going to get a look in?

'Twas a burnin'noonday 69 year ago,

and me no bigger than a titty wren.

And I saw something nasty...

in the woodshed. In the woodshed.

You're all wicked and cruel. I
know you all want to go away...

and leave me with what I saw.

But there've always been Starkadders...

at Cold Comfort Farm.
At Cold Comfort Farm.

And you'll never go, none of you.

Well, well, the gang's
all here, isn't it?

I don't suppose there are any sandwiches.

Who's that there then?
It's Robert Poste's child.

Come and meet your Aunt Ada Doom.

How do you do, Aunt Ada?

Look who's come to see you, Mother.
It's Flora Poste.

I saw something nasty in the woodshed.

There've always been Starkadders at Cold
Comfort Farm. At Cold Comfort Farm.

You'll stay here, all of you.

Amos and Judith, Seth and
Reuben, Urk and Elfine.

- And Rennet.
- Who's Rennet?

The one who looks as if she just jumped in the
well. She's a kind of third cousin, we think.

It's time to hold the countin'.

Where's my Seth?

Here I be.

- I'll never leave you, Grandma.
- Aye, you're my mommet, my pippet.

The Lord sees your lascivious glances.

But how grand he is tonight. And Elfine.

Dressed up like a proper little lady.

What's all this? What you been doin', boy?
Tell your granny.

He's been to a dance at the
Hawk-Monitors. So have I.

So has Elfine. And what's more, Aunt Ada,

Elfine and Richard Hawk-Monitor are
engaged to be married a month from now.

- No! My little water-vole! My little water-vole!
- Hey! Hey! Hey!

She b'ain't worth it. She b'ain't
worth nothin'. I'll go mad!

Elfine was promised to Urk
when she was born.

Amos, you're the man here.
Tell them what their duty is.

I've got somethin' to say, Mother.

I been wrestlin' and prayin'
and broodin' over it,

and I know the Lord's truth at last.

I mun go abroad in one of they Ford vans,

preachin' all over the countryside.

Aye, like the apostles of old.

I've heard my call, and I mun follow it.

No, you don't! No one can leave me!

I shall go mad and die alone in the
woodshed with nasty things pressin' on me!

She'll go mad! You strike and
torment me all you want.

I hear the glad voices
of the angels callin' me...

over the ploughed fields,

and the little seedlings is
clapping their hands in prayer.

'Tis good-bye to ye all.

I've broken your chains at last, Mother,

with the help of the angels
and the Lord's Word.

Where's me hat?

No, Amos! What shall become of us?

The Lord will provide.

Or not, according to His whim.

I'll send you a card
from where I'm going.

I shall go mad, Amos. I promise you.

I'm sorry, Mother. The Lord's will.

We're doomed!

Urk, Elfine's yours. Promised
the day she was born.

You take her back, boy.

Urk, she just b'ain't worth it.
No, she b'ain't.

'Ave me instead. Don't you have him,
ducky, 'less you feels like it.

I can always make him wash
a bit, if I feels like it.

Urk! Come on, me beauty.

- Dirt as ye are, we'll sink into the mire together.
- Urk, wait. Don't you go too.

I shall go mad, I tell you.

I expect there'll be another little
Beetle soon, now the sukebind's fowerin'.

Amos gone, Urk gone.

I'm all alone. All alone in the woodshed.

And who took them away?

It was you, wasn't it?

You chit! You scheming brat!

It was you, Robert Poste's child!

You poured poison into their ears!

Come on. Sit down. Come on.

They're all gone,

and I saw something nasty
in the woodshed.

Don't worry, Grandma. I'm still here.

You'll break our hearts, too,
you Libertine. I know it.

Come along, Miss Poste.
'Tis time you were in bed.

Thank you, Reuben. You're an utter lamb.

You got the old devil out o' the way.

Farm'll be mine now, won't it?

I don't forget, Miss Poste.
Yes, of course, Reuben.

Good night.

Mr. Neck! Mr. Neck!

Mr. Neck!

Is the, House of Usher open?
May I come in?

Mr. Neck, how wonderful to see you.
I'll come down.

Well, Mr. Neck,
Mary said in her last letter...

that you were still looking
for English film stars.

Sure am, but I don't want sissies.
Sissies give me a pain in the neck.

They're starting to give the goddamn
American public a pain in the neck too.

Believe me, it's red meat time in movies.

Well, there's plenty of red meat
at Cold Comfort Farm.

You mean someone like TeckJones?
Yeah. Teck's a good kid.

He can ride all right,
but he's got no body urge.

I want a man to fetch the women.

Some big, husky guy that
smells of the great outdoors.

A guy who can live and love
and still handle a plough.

You mean like Slake Fountain?

Sure, but it takes 20 guys to pull a
bottle off him before he gets on set.

That's it! Hold it there.
Who are you, son?

Seth, there you are. This is
my cousin Seth Starkadder.

He's very interested in the talkies.
Mr. Neck is a film producer.

Seth... Starkadder! Hit
'em right with it?

So you're a fan, sweetheart?

You and me should get acquainted?

Maybe you've thought of being in the
movies yourself. What if I have?

He's got the fesh. He's got
the burr in his voice.

And he can plow and mollock.

I got the what? You just
got the big offer, son.

How would you like to be in
the movies, Seth Starkadder?

I'd like it more than
anything else in the world.

Ain't that dandy! He wants to be a
movie star, and I wanna make him one!

Seth, no! You can't leave your mother!

You mustn't go! I knew it!

I knew it would come to this!
Got to go, Mother.

It's what I were always made for.

God, he's terrific!

Gee, ma'am, I know it's raw, I know it's
tough, but that's life, sweetheart.

Go on, get your coat, boy.
Time to be off!

We take the Transatlantic
Clipper in the morning.

You can't do this to me.
You can't leave your mother.

There's a spring onion harvest!

'Tis man's work! Seth, no!

I'm a dead woman!

I'd take her, too, but she's gloomy.

Look, Mama, he'll be fine.
I got the perfect part.

Seth Starkadder in 'Small Town Cowboy'.

He'll send you five grand from the
movie, and you'll be mama to a star.

Good-bye, Mr. Neck. I'm sure we'll meet
again in London. I look forward to it.

And thanks for the boy.
He's quite a find.

Mother! Mother! Come on down!

Mother, he's taking my Seth!

No! Seth!

Mercy! It's Great - Aunt Ada.

Seth! You'd better hurry and go.

Don't leave me! No! I forbid it!

I saw something nasty in the woodshed.

Sure, you did, but did it see you, baby?

Come on, Seth! Hollywood's waiting.

Seth.

Seth, you can't leave us!

- You mustn't go!
- Good - bye, Mother.

Seth!

Seth!

Seth! Seth!

I'm a dead woman.

Drive a plough.

Or milk a cow

I can reap and mow

I'm as fresh as a daisy.

That grows in the field.

And they calls I.

Buttercup Joe.

Yeah, well,

place looks a lot better, Miss Poste?

Much better, Reuben. I knew you
were the one to take charge.

Yeah. Should please the old
devil when he comes back?

I don't think he is coming back.
I had a card today.

"Praise the Lord. I go to spread the
Word among the heathen Americans...

"with the Reverend Elderberry
Shiftglass of Chicago.

Tell Reuben he can have the old place.
Amos Starkadder."

Have the place? What, it's mine?

One day. When the old lady...

Cousin Flora, 'twere a good day
when ye came to Cold Comfort.

Here,

I don't suppose you'd marry me?

Reuben, that is nice of you.

I mean it, Miss Poste.
I like your pretty ways.

I like yours, too, but I'm
afraid it would never do.

I'm not at all the sort of person
to make a good farmer's wife.

And there's enough marriage just now
with Elfine's wedding coming up.

She all right up at the Hall? She
loves it, and they love her.

They ought to have the wedding
feast here at Cold Comfort,

now you've made it so nice.

You'll have to ask Aunt Ada.

Yes, I suppose I will.
But you wouldn't mind?

No, not at all. No.

That were a no, by the way, were it?

Yes, it were no. You'll find someone.

What about Rennet?

No one in their right mind
would marry Rennet.

But I'll find someone.

Aunt Ada? I've brought your lunch.
May I come in?

Who's there? It's Flora,
Robert Poste's child.

I don't know if there's
enough money for... Yeah!

Dang me!

What's going on? No supper?

I didn't like to make
supper, Master Reuben.

Miss Poste went to see the old lady
at noon and hasn't come back down.

They been talkin' all day.

Maybe I ought to take up some sandwiches
and cocoa. No, no, Mrs. Beetle.

Better let 'em be. Miss Poste
knows what she's doin'.

Something terrible'll come of it.

What's happened? Is she
all right, the old lady?

She's absolutely fine.
I've just put her to bed.

What?

How's that, Miss Poste? Pretty, isn't it?
Lovely, Urk.

Could you fetch the men? I want to
set up the tables for the feast...

One for the farmers, one for the county.

Give us your toes.

That's it.

Come on, Rennet, stir that dough!

Don't want 'em eating their wedding
breakfast a week after the nuptials, do we?

Who would've thought it?
My little wennet.

The seed to the fower, the fower to
the fruit, the fruit to the belly.

Urk, Grandma Doom's chair, could
you find it and put it out for me?

She only uses that for the countin'.
Just find it, please.

Rennet, here's a hat
for you to wear to the church.

Cousin Flora, do you mind?

I ain't used to them collars.
No, of course, Reuben.

Sit down.

Hello!

Rest in peace, husband mine.

Your loving wife won't be far behind.

Here lies my darling George.

Whatever shall I do without you
come the harvest?

Cousin Judith, I'd like you to meet Dr.
Adolf Mudel from Vienna.

Leave me to me fate,
Robert Poste's child.

It's a very great pleasure to
meet you, Mrs. Starkadder.

I have heard something of
you from Fraulein Poste.

You must leave me be. I'm a dead woman.

Now she's safely gathered in,
delivered from this life of sin.

Yes. Well, never mind that now.

Pouring with rain when your father
and I got married. I must go in.

Yes. Good luck.

Hello.

Freddie, I wanted to speak to
you about those cathedral...

It is. Thank goodness.

Yesterday... Hey!

Miss Poste!

What a marvelous day for a wedding!

Dr. Mudel, this is Mr. Mybug. Mybug.

Dr. Mudel, yes. I know you
by reputation, of course.

We've never actually met. I did
attend one of your lectures once.

"The Mind At War With Itself." So.

Weren't you there, too, Miss Poste?
Yes, indeed, Mr. Mybug.

Dr. Mudel, could I ask you to accompany
Cousin Judith into the church?

It will be my pleasure.

Tell me, do you like old churches?

Mr. Mybug, would you excuse me?

I've spotted someone
I simply must talk to.

Flowers!

Stop it!

Reuben! Do hurry up, Elfine.

They're all waiting. You look gorgeous.

Flora, do I look nice?

Don't be nervous.

Reuben, mind me dress.

My little wennet.

Adam!

Absolutely fascinating.

How kind. I don't usually.

I must say you're looking
splendid, Mrs. Beetle.

Vicar, thank you!

Tell me, my dear,

you can settle a question
that's been puzzling me.

Do you believe that women have souls?

A wedding present for ye, maidy.

A gift for my own wild marsh tigget.

Adam, how sweet of you.

Put it in thy bosom. It'll
make ye bear four children.

That it will. You'll see.

I must thank you, Miss Poste.

Dr. Mudel has asked me to stay with
him at his nursing home in London.

He says I can stay with him for six months
and talk to him, play some chess if I like.

It's my energy, you see.
It turns in instead of out.

He's going to turn it out for me.

Grandmama?

- Aye, 'tis her!
- All dressed up to go out.

'Tis flying against nature.

- Look at her!
- Well, I never. Granny!

She must've seen some'at
nasty in the woodshed.

Welcome to Cold Comfort Farm.

- There's always been Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm.
- -Aye!

But it's been some time since
we've had a wedding here.

I must admit that Elfine's wedding has
not turned out quite as I'd planned,

but I've never seen her looking
lovelier or more radiant.

So...

So I give it my blessing.

My great-niece Flora
has told me something very wise.

What a pleasant life...

How'd you put it, dear?

What a pleasant life
might be had in this world...

by a handsome, sensible
old lady of good fortune,

blessed with a sound
constitution and a firm will.

- Jane Austen. Jane Austen.
- Aye!

So I'm taking her advice...

and leaving for Paris in a few moments.

Paris?

Good-bye, dear.

- God bless you, mum.
- Thank you very much. Thank you.

Now, remember, when you get to
Nice, ask for the Hotel Miramar.

I will, my dear. I shall
do exactly as you advised.

You won't find me plucking
my eyebrows, nor dieting.

Nor doting on a boy of 25.

There is just one thing,
Aunt Ada, before you go.

What was the wrong Amos did my father?
And what are my rights?

Well... Yes, my dear? Aunt Ada.

Adam wants to come to Hautecouture
Hall with us and look after our cows.

Do you mind?

Who will care for Feckless,
Aimless, Graceless and Pointless?

Adam, you wouldn't desert them?

Never, ma'am. Take 'em with me.

There's room for all at "Howchiker" Hall.

Well, you may take 'em
if you want to, Adam.

Bless ye, Miss Starkadder.
You'me a good 'un after all.

And bless ye, Robert Poste's child.

You'me lifted the doom from Cold Comfort.

- Three cheers for Aunt Ada! Hip-hip!
- Hooray!

- Hip-hip!
- Hooray!

Hip - hip! Hooray!

It was the loveliest time of
the loveliest day of the year.

The ermine fowers and silky leaves...

and... satin leaves...

dazzled against an azure sky.

The gauze - like shadows crept in...

stealthily.

The dreaming birds
began their sleep song.

Golden orb.

The golden orb...

The golden orb...

Charles, you do have heavenly teeth.

Come on!

Here, clap that.

This is forever, isn't it? Yes, forever.

Now, is it all over, my darling?
Yes, Charles.

I did it all. Very clever.
What about the novel?

To be perfectly honest,

I don't really think
I'm cut out to be a novelist.

You know, I never did approve of you
interfering in other people's lives.

So I shan't be allowed to
interfere in yours? No!

Of course, you can share it, Flora.
In fact, I very much hope you will.

Charles, I love you! What?

I love you!

Good-bye!

Flora!