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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
76
It
was
a
curious
sensation
to
realise
that
since
the
last
time
I
sat
under
the
old
oak
I
had
been
right
up
to
the
N.
of
England,
then
right
down
to
the
S.W.,
and
back
once
more
to
London
town.
I
bragged
about
my
kinetic
activity
to
the
stationary
oak
and
I
scoffed
at
the
old
hill
for
having
to
remain
always
in
the
same
place.
It
gave
me
a
pleasing
sense
of
infinite
superiority
to
come
back
and
see
everything
the
same
as
before,
to
sit
on
the
same
old
seat
under
the
same
old
oak.
Even
that
same
old
hurdle
was
lying
in
the
same
position
among
the
bracken.
How
sorry
I
was
for
it!
Poor
wretch--unable
to
move--to
go
to
Whitby,
to
go
to
C----,
to
be
totally
ignorant
of
the
great
country
of
London....
Day
dreamed.
My
own
life
as
it
unrolls
day
by
day
is
a
source
of
constant
amazement,
delight,
and
pain.
I
can
think
of
no
more
interesting
volume
than
a
detailed,
intimate,
psychological
history
of
my
own
life.
I
want
a
perfect
comprehension
at
least
of
myself....
We
are
all
such
egotists
that
a
sorrow
or
hardship--provided
it
is
great
enough--flatters
our
self-importance.
We
feel
that
a
calamity
by
overtaking
us
has
distinguished
us
above
our
fellows.
A
man
likes
not
to
be
ignored
even
by
a
railway
accident.
A
man
with
a
grievance
is
always
happy.
October
23.
Over
to
see
E----.
Came
away
disillusioned.
October
25.
Met
her
in
Smith's
book
shop
looking
quite
bewitching.
Hang
it
all,
I
thought
I
had
finished.
Went
home
with
her,
watched
her
make
a
pudding
in
the
kitchen,
then
we
sat
by
the
firelight
in
the
drawing-room
and
had
supper.
Scrumptious
(not
the
supper).
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