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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
290
Next
morning
I
felt
thoroughly
cornered:
I
was
not
really
fit
enough
to
travel;
my
hand
and
leg
were
daily
growing
more
and
more
paralysed
and
J----
wired
to
say
she
could
not
put
me
up
as
they
were
going
away
for
the
week
end.
So
I
wired
back
engaging
rooms,
as
with
the
nurse
in
the
house
and
E----
as
she
was,
I
simply
could
not
stay
at
home....
On
the
way
to
the
Station
I
was
still
in
two
minds
whether
or
not
to
pull
the
taxi
up
at
the
Nursing
Home
and
go
inside,
but
harassing
debate
as
it
was,
our
rapidly
diminishing
bank
balance
finally
drove
me
on.
----
came
up
to
London
with
me
and
sought
out
a
comfortable
corner
seat,
but
by
the
time
the
train
left,
a
mother
and
a
crying
child
had
got
in
and
everywhere
else
was
full.
A
girl
opposite
who
saw
----
hand
me
a
brandy
flask
and
knew
I
was
ill,
looked
at
me
compassionately.
At
Reading,
another
woman
with
a
baby
got
in
and
both
babies
cried
in
chorus,
jangling
my
nerves
to
bits!--until
I
got
out
into
the
corridor,
by
a
miracle
not
falling
down,
with
one
leg
very
feeble
and
treacherous.
All
seats
were
taken,
excepting
a
first-class
compartment
where
I
looked
in
enviously
at
a
lucky
youth
stretched
out
asleep
full
length
along
the
empty
seat.
All
the
people
and
the
noise
of
the
train
began
to
make
me
fret,
so
I
sought
out
the
repose
of
a
lavatory
where
I
remained
eating
sandwiches
and
an
apple
for
the
best
part
of
an
hour.
It
was
good
to
be
alone.
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