Monday 19th March 1934

Vigil: Night Adventure.

Set out at the day’s end, as usual. Over a railway crossing into fields. I leaned here awhile as dusk deepened – then went on. Some time later, I was walking along that same railway track, the dark country growing wilder around me. I laughed, climbed a signal post and sat on the swaying platform, being crazy.

Then I had left the railway and was walking through heather. Lit a cigarette and strode straight towards the crescent moon. When the cigarette was done I would stop; that should be the place. However, confronted by marshy ground I had to alter my course. Reached a hill top, bare except for the heather and myself – threw away the cigarette end and stopped. For a few minutes, under the crescent moon…

If I am ever an old man, will there still be Vigil? Would I meet Death courageously and accept it, as fated? Shall I always pray in my heart to be adventurous or shall I become staid, sober?

How long shall I try to live straight - and clean – and deep?