Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Saturday 9th February 1935

Icily cold still.

Evening – plodded doggedly through my homework whilst the wireless sang. And when I’d finished – a glass of homemade wine and a cigarette. Only two free evenings from homework, this week.

“Fear and be slain; no worse can come to fight,
And fight and die is death destroying death,
Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.”


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