My Thoughts Went Round And Round And

Once Outside The Magic Circle The Writers Became Their Lonely Selves, Pondering On Poems, Observing Their Fellow Men Ruthlessly, Putting People They Knew Into Novels; No Wonder They Were Without Friends.

Perhaps I Need Some Shattering Experience To Awaken And Inspire Me, Or At Least To Give Me Some Emotion To Recollect In Tranquility. But How To Get It? Sit Here And Wait For It Or Go Out And Seek It? . . . I Expect It Will Be Sit And Wait.

She Set About Preparing Her Supper. It Would Have To Be One Of Those Classically Simple Meals, The Sort That French Peasants Are Said To Eat And That Enlightened English People Sometimes Enjoy Rather Self-consciously - A Crusty French Loaf, Cheese, And Lettuce And Tomatoes From The Garden. Of Course There Should Have Been Wine And A Lovingly Prepared Dressing Of Oil And Vinegar, But Dulcie Drank Orange Squash And Ate Mayonnaise That Came From A Bottle.

She Had Always Been An Unashamed Reader Of Novels.

I Love Evensong. There's Something Sad And Essentially English About It.