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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
41
December
10.
He
is
a
trifle
better.
It
is
fifteen
years
since
he
had
the
first
paralytic
stroke.
Am
taking
over
all
his
work
and
have
written
at
once
resigning
the
Plymouth
appointment.
December
23.
It
really
did
require
an
effort
to
go
upstairs
to-day
to
his
bedroom
and
say
cheerfully
I
was
not
going
to
P.
after
all,
and
that
the
matter
was
of
no
consequence
to
me.
I
laughed
gaily
and
Dad
was
relieved.
A
thundering
good
joke.
What
annoys
me
is
that
other
folk--the
brainless,
heartless
mob,
as
Schopenhauer
remarks,
still
continue
to
regard
me
as
one
of
themselves....
I
had
nearly
escaped
into
a
seaside
laboratory,
and
now
suddenly
to
be
flung
back
into
the
dirt
and
sweat
of
the
newspaper
world
seems
very
hard,
and
it
is
very
hard.
December
26.
Windy
Ash
With
the
dog
for
a
walk
around
Windy
Ash.
It
was
a
beautiful
winter's
morning--a
low
sun
giving
out
a
pale
light
but
no
warmth--a
luminant,
not
a
fire--the
hedgerows
bare
and
well
trimmed,
an
Elm
lopped
close
showing
white
stumps
which
glistened
liquidly
in
the
sun,
a
Curlew
whistling
overhead,
a
deeply
cut
lane
washed
hard
and
clean
by
the
winter
rains,
a
gunshot
from
a
distant
cover,
a
creeping
Wren,
silent
and
tame,
in
a
bramble
bush,
and
over
the
five-barred
gate
the
granite
roller
with
vacant
shafts.
I
leaned
on
the
gate
and
saw
the
great
whisps
of
cloud
in
the
sky
like
comets'
tails.
Everything
cold,
crystalline.
[1]
He
had
spoken
about
me
to
the
Museum
authorities,
and
it
was
his
influence
which
got
me
the
nomination
to
sit
for
the
examination.
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