Monday 3rd December 1934
Hard days work at the Super Grinder – I can now lift the half cwt. bags up from floor to platform, without using the stairs.
…Yes, Charge Hand Jones had also heard the rumour about my romantic episodes in the spare hours. Apparently it has all originated from Gunner of the White Room, a nosey person, who saw us together. So here’s a little extension of Tangle on top of me already.
4 o’clock. The men went; and I’d go at 4.25. Took off my overalls, leaned against a desk tapping with something – a brush or perhaps a pencil. She came – Joan – smiling as she passed. She was wearing a delightful brown dress. Put down the thing I was tapping with and followed her to the end of the shop.
My cool calculations all crumbled. Presently I said, “The gossip has started.” Silence. Joan said “Well, I suppose this must be the end of all our talks.” “Yes.” Silence. I said, “Move back, so that the light falls on your face.” She did. We looked straight at each other; Sincerity and Untruthfulness. I think my eyes turned away first. Strange, that nearly always happens with her. Silence.
“But perhaps I can see you after work, sometimes?” The carnal request. She laughed, looked away… “All right,” very softly.
(I have two pennies left, two cigarettes, about five pipefulls of tobacco.) There is nothing spiritual about this love. No, it’s a physical attraction. The way she walks, her shape, eyes, voice; the way she stands. Her youth – young – young. Colour that comes and goes… I could continue ad infinitum. I want to kiss her throat and eyes and hair…
No schemes remain.
Except the Tangle.
It is nearly midnight; will go to bed and smoke – one cigarette.
…Yes, Charge Hand Jones had also heard the rumour about my romantic episodes in the spare hours. Apparently it has all originated from Gunner of the White Room, a nosey person, who saw us together. So here’s a little extension of Tangle on top of me already.
4 o’clock. The men went; and I’d go at 4.25. Took off my overalls, leaned against a desk tapping with something – a brush or perhaps a pencil. She came – Joan – smiling as she passed. She was wearing a delightful brown dress. Put down the thing I was tapping with and followed her to the end of the shop.
My cool calculations all crumbled. Presently I said, “The gossip has started.” Silence. Joan said “Well, I suppose this must be the end of all our talks.” “Yes.” Silence. I said, “Move back, so that the light falls on your face.” She did. We looked straight at each other; Sincerity and Untruthfulness. I think my eyes turned away first. Strange, that nearly always happens with her. Silence.
“But perhaps I can see you after work, sometimes?” The carnal request. She laughed, looked away… “All right,” very softly.
(I have two pennies left, two cigarettes, about five pipefulls of tobacco.) There is nothing spiritual about this love. No, it’s a physical attraction. The way she walks, her shape, eyes, voice; the way she stands. Her youth – young – young. Colour that comes and goes… I could continue ad infinitum. I want to kiss her throat and eyes and hair…
No schemes remain.
Except the Tangle.
It is nearly midnight; will go to bed and smoke – one cigarette.
posted by Paul Wilson at 5:27 pm
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