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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
272
Curiously
enough,
all
bores
of
whatever
kind
make
a
dead
set
at
me.
I
am
always
a
ready
listener
and
my
thrusts
are
always
gentle.
Hence
the
pyramids!
I
constantly
act
as
phlebotomist
to
the
vanity
of
the
young
and
to
the
anecdotage
of
the
senile
and
senescent.
August
13.
...
I
stood
by
his
chair
and
looked
down
at
him,
and
surveyed
carefully
the
top
of
his
head,
neck,
and
collar,
and
with
admirable
restraint
and
calm,
considered
my
most
reasonable
contempt
of
him.
In
perfect
silence,
we
remained
thus,
while
I
looked
down
at
a
sore
spot
in
the
centre
of
his
calvarium
which
he
scratches
occasionally,
and
toyed
with
the
fine
flower
of
my
scorn....
But
it
is
a
dangerous
license
to
take.
One
never
knows....
Equilibrium
Restored
To
clear
away
the
cobwebs
and
to
purge
my
soul
of
evil
thoughts
and
bitter
feelings,
went
for
a
walk
this
evening
over
the
uplands.
Among
the
stubble,
I
sat
down
for
a
while
with
my
back
against
the
corn
pook
and
listened
to
the
Partridges
calling.
Then
wandered
around
the
edge
of
this
upland
field
with
the
wind
in
my
face
and
a
shower
of
delicious,
fresh
rain
pattering
down
on
the
leaves
and
dry
earth.
Then
into
a
wood
among
tall
forest
Beeches
and
a
few
giant
Larches
where
I
rested
again
and
heard
a
Woodpecker
tapping
out
its
message
aloft.
This
ramble
in
beautiful
B----shire
country
restored
my
mental
and
spiritual
poise.
I
came
home
serene
and
perfectly
balanced--my
equilibrium
was
something
like
the
just
perceptible
oscillation
of
tall
Larch-tree
tops
on
the
heights
of
a
cliff
and
the
sea
below
with
a
just
perceptible
swell
on
a
calm
and
perfect
June
day.
I
felt
exquisite
--superb.
I
could
have
walked
all
the
way
home
on
a
tight
rope.
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