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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
56
August
11.
Very
hot,
so
went
to
S----,
and
bathed
in
the
salmon
pool.
Stretched
myself
out
in
the
water,
delighted
to
find
that
I
had
at
last
got
to
the
very
heart
of
the
countryside.
I
was
not
just
watching
from
the
outside--on
the
bank.
I
was
in
it,
and
plunging
in
it,
too,
up
to
my
armpits.
What
did
I
care
about
the
British
Museum
or
Zoology
then?
All
but
the
last
enemy
and
object
of
conquest
I
had
overcome--for
the
moment
perhaps
even
Death
himself
was
under
heel--I
was
immortal--in
that
minute
I
was
always
prostrate
in
the
stream--sunk
deep
in
the
bosom
of
old
Mother
Earth
who
cannot
die!
August
14.
At
4
p.m.
to
the
Salmon
Pool
for
a
bathe.
87.3
in
the
shade.
The
meadow
was
delicious
in
the
sunshine.
It
made
me
want
to
hop,
flirt
my
tail,
sing.
I
felt
ever
such
a
bright-eyed
wily
bird!
August
17.
Caught
the
afternoon
train
to
C----,
but
unfortunately
forgot
to
take
with
me
either
watch
or
tubes
(for
insects).
So
I
applied
to
the
station-master,
a
youth
of
about
eighteen,
who
is
also
signalman,
porter,
ticket-collector,
and
indeed
very
factotal--even
to
the
extent
of
providing
me
with
empty
match
boxes.
I
agreed
with
him
to
be
called
by
three
halloos
from
the
viaduct
just
before
the
evening
train
came
in.
Then
I
went
up
to
the
leat,
set
up
my
muslin
net
in
it
for
insects
floating
down,
and
then
went
across
to
the
stream
and
bathed.
Afterwards,
went
back
and
boxed
the
insects
caught,
and
returned
to
the
little
station,
with
its
creepers
on
the
walls
and
over
the
roof,
all
as
delightfully
quiet
as
ever,
and
the
station
youth
as
delightfully
silly.
Then
the
little
train
came
around
the
bend
of
the
line--green
puffing
engine
and
red
coaches,
like
a
crawling
caterpillar
of
gay
colour.
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