Monday, March 12, 2007

Wednesday 8th November 1933

Peggy came and we went across Callow Hill, cold and wet. It is strange. I am not particularly happy about it.

Afterwards Harvey and I sat by our fireless hearth. I smoked, ate apples, laughed and spoke foolishly. He spoke rarely. I thought – as usual. Before I forget, I’ll make a note ahead to remind me – of four things.


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