Monday, January 05, 2009

Friday 7th May 1943

Where is my sense of humour now? Where is that whimsical amusement at everything, including myself, which I once believed could save me, whatever happened?

Today I received a letter from April. It said that while she was in a London music shop with my Mother and Richard, my Mother suddenly said, quietly, “You're very fond of Stephen, aren't you, April?” And in the split second before she replied, April was conscious of music in the background – The Warsaw Concerto.

Strangely, lying on my bed this afternoon, as I put the letter down after having just re-read it, I became conscious of music, from the ward radio. And it was the same piece that April had heard in the shop...


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