Sunday 24th September 1933
A showery, sunny day but very certainly autumnal.
Morning: an hour on the Thames. Rowed down to Staines and back again. A beautiful boat but it needed someone at the tiller.
Afternoon: A lovely walk, in really unknown country. Original intention was to climb Egham Hill, to see the view beyond. There was no view. Just trees all round, dripping with rain. Walked through to Virginia Water in Windsor Great Park. Silent lake, surrounded by trees. Too many trees, too many people. Not enough space, not enough friends.
By roads with traffic through Cheapside to Ascot. I wanted a pretty village with fields around – and space. I found only trees and detached residences. Could not even find a tea shop. Sunninghill. Sunningdale. Perhaps I should have been happy during ths long lonely walk but I never was. Only once, as I passed a large modern church, did I get a glimpse of peace. They were singing a famous hymn – was it “We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land….”? Human voices ringing together.
Returning on the bus I saw a pretty roadside hut marked “Teas with Horice”. So someday I will have tea there and then go to the modern church in the residential suburban-like village of Sunningdale. The country I have seen today was pretty – but I want to be in beautiful lands, where there is space, air, openness, width. I cannot express what there is about Lincolnshire that I cannot find here. Perhaps the difference between a pretty girl and a beautiful woman.
To think! This day a year ago I was a clerk at the British United and probably thinking I was there for ever! What a year of changes it has been! Something like a deep, softly flowing river. Here and there is a sudden twist, a waterfall or a patch of rocks and shells. Past the rough water, the river continues smoothly. The rocks and rapids have been passed but they may be more ahead. My soul (or whatever) is restless. Thank heavens I have this diary to write in, for the mere recording of my feelings is soothing.
Morning: an hour on the Thames. Rowed down to Staines and back again. A beautiful boat but it needed someone at the tiller.
Afternoon: A lovely walk, in really unknown country. Original intention was to climb Egham Hill, to see the view beyond. There was no view. Just trees all round, dripping with rain. Walked through to Virginia Water in Windsor Great Park. Silent lake, surrounded by trees. Too many trees, too many people. Not enough space, not enough friends.
By roads with traffic through Cheapside to Ascot. I wanted a pretty village with fields around – and space. I found only trees and detached residences. Could not even find a tea shop. Sunninghill. Sunningdale. Perhaps I should have been happy during ths long lonely walk but I never was. Only once, as I passed a large modern church, did I get a glimpse of peace. They were singing a famous hymn – was it “We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land….”? Human voices ringing together.
Returning on the bus I saw a pretty roadside hut marked “Teas with Horice”. So someday I will have tea there and then go to the modern church in the residential suburban-like village of Sunningdale. The country I have seen today was pretty – but I want to be in beautiful lands, where there is space, air, openness, width. I cannot express what there is about Lincolnshire that I cannot find here. Perhaps the difference between a pretty girl and a beautiful woman.
To think! This day a year ago I was a clerk at the British United and probably thinking I was there for ever! What a year of changes it has been! Something like a deep, softly flowing river. Here and there is a sudden twist, a waterfall or a patch of rocks and shells. Past the rough water, the river continues smoothly. The rocks and rapids have been passed but they may be more ahead. My soul (or whatever) is restless. Thank heavens I have this diary to write in, for the mere recording of my feelings is soothing.
posted by Paul Wilson at 9:25 pm
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