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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
160
What
a
young
fool
I
was
to
neglect
those
priceless
opportunities
of
studying
and
tasting
life
and
character
in
North
----,
at
Borough
Council
meetings,
Boards
of
Guardians,
and
electioneering
campaigns--not
to
mention
inquests,
police
courts,
and
country
fairs.
Instead
of
appraising
all
these
precious
and
genuine
pieces
of
experience
at
their
true
value,
my
diary
and
my
mind
were
occupied
only
with--Zoology,
if
you
please.
I
ignored
my
exquisite
chances,
I
ramped
around,
fuming
and
fretting,
full
of
contempt
for
my
circumscribed
existence,
and
impatient
as
only
a
youth
can
be.
What
I
shall
never
forgive
myself
is
my
present
inability
to
recall
that
life,
so
that
instead
of
being
able
now
to
push
my
chair
back
and
entertain
myself
and
others
with
descriptions
of
some
of
those
antique
and
incredible
happenings,
my
memory
is
rigid
and
formal:
I
remember
only
a
few
names
and
one
or
two
isolated
events.
All
that
time
is
just
as
if
it
had
never
been.
My
recollections
form
only
an
indefinite
smudge--odd
Town
Clerks,
Town
Criers
(at
least
five
of
them
in
wonderful
garb),
policemen
(I
poached
with
one),
ploughing
match
dinners
(platters
of
roast
beef
and
boiled
potatoes
and
I,
bespectacled
student
of
Zoology,
sitting
uncomfortably
among
valiant
trenchermen
after
their
day's
ploughing),
election
meetings
in
remote
Exmoor
villages
(and
those
wonderful
Inns
where
I
had
to
spend
the
night!)--all
are
gone--too
remote
to
bear
recital--yet
just
sufficiently
clear
to
harass
the
mind
in
my
constant
endeavours
to
raise
them
all
again
from
the
dead
in
my
consciousness.
I
hate
to
think
it
is
lost;
that
my
youth
is
buried--a
cemetery
without
even
headstones.
To
an
inquest
on
a
drowned
sailor--disclosing
some
thrilling
story
of
the
wild
seas
off
the
coast--with
a
pitiful
myopia--I
preferred
Wiedersheim's
Comparative
Anatomy
of
Vertebrates.
I
used
to
carry
Dr.
Smith
Woodward's
Paleontology
with
me
to
a
Board
of
Guardians
meeting,
mingling
Pariasaurus
and
Holoptychians
with
tenders
for
repairs
and
reports
from
the
Master.
Now
I
take
Keats
or
Tschekov
to
the
Museum!
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