Saturday 31st October 1936
Felt fairly dismal on the journey home. The cold, rainy weather perhaps.
John arrived at Ealing soon after me. A quiet afternoon; we talked, I went to the library with Majorie and John; packed my kit. Then, one of the interesting evenings I love to write about.
Wilf, suffering from “nerves”, has been working at a farm near High Wycombe. A phone message arrived that he was ill. Father and John and I went by car (the moon one night past full). Through Beaconsfield, then off the main road into a narrow, winding lane. John and I, following Father’s directions, found the cottage and Wilf’s bedroom window. All silent under the moon (They retire early in the country).
Fortunately there was a ladder nearby. I climbed to the closed, heavily curtained window and tapped.
A voice – Wilf’s voice – held conversation with me. It showed no surprise and the speaker did not seem to be moving at all. Eerie. I had a sudden, uncanny feeling as I hung there, urging him to get up and come with us. When we returned he was ready; the lady of the cottage, roused from bed, held an oil lamp.
We reached the Victoria 15 minutes before closing time. Had three quick ones and played with the machines. John helped up to room no. 3 with the kit and was impressed. “Atmosphere of luxury”.
I don’t know anything about the place yet, having arrived so late, but all my personel belongings are neatly arranged about the room.
John arrived at Ealing soon after me. A quiet afternoon; we talked, I went to the library with Majorie and John; packed my kit. Then, one of the interesting evenings I love to write about.
Wilf, suffering from “nerves”, has been working at a farm near High Wycombe. A phone message arrived that he was ill. Father and John and I went by car (the moon one night past full). Through Beaconsfield, then off the main road into a narrow, winding lane. John and I, following Father’s directions, found the cottage and Wilf’s bedroom window. All silent under the moon (They retire early in the country).
Fortunately there was a ladder nearby. I climbed to the closed, heavily curtained window and tapped.
A voice – Wilf’s voice – held conversation with me. It showed no surprise and the speaker did not seem to be moving at all. Eerie. I had a sudden, uncanny feeling as I hung there, urging him to get up and come with us. When we returned he was ready; the lady of the cottage, roused from bed, held an oil lamp.
We reached the Victoria 15 minutes before closing time. Had three quick ones and played with the machines. John helped up to room no. 3 with the kit and was impressed. “Atmosphere of luxury”.
I don’t know anything about the place yet, having arrived so late, but all my personel belongings are neatly arranged about the room.
posted by Paul Wilson at 6:31 pm
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