Sunday, June 10, 2007

Thursday 2nd April 1936

Presumably the last time Gwyneth Elaine and I would hold each other close. We went where going was forbidden – onto Bell Weir. (Water rushing just beneath our feet.)

I do not love Miss Rowlands, of the digs, though her intellect and wit make her a pleasant companion. (How we’ve laughed, these last two days!) Gwyneth Elaine of the night, restless, loving woman, loving girl, is a very different person.

Afterwards, we crossed dangerously into Buckinghamshire.
We wandered across a strange field, past houses, into the grounds of Bell Weir Club (notorious night haunt. Might join sometime.) Down a dark lane beside the Colne, across a bridge, we found ourselves at a greyhound racing track. Mingled with the crowd of men going home and went out through the gates – into Wraysbury Road.

Soon, we were back at Ferndale being frightfully sarcastic and amusing as we had our monotonous supper.


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