suddenly realized o ory at t ironmonger’s s suddenly struck me man in a bo look rig all. Fat men mustn’t pick primroses, at any rate in public. I just ime to c. It ty. me—you kno struck me t even no some I’d been doing. Better let ‘em t out of try road? Obvious! As t past I pretended to be doing up a fly-button.
I cranked up tarter doesn’t in. Curiously enoug ers full of to me.
I’d go back to Lower Binfield!
? I t as I jammed o top gear. I? o stop me? And of it before? A quiet ted.
Don’t imagine t I o LIVE in Lo planning to desert art life under a different name. t kind of t o stop me slipping doo Lower Binfield and .?
I seemed to all planned out in my mind already. It ill t in t secret pile of mine, and you can able a fortnig or September. But if I made up some suitable story— relative dying of incurable disease, or somet to give me my e o myself before s, no noise of traffic driving you silly—just a ening to tness?
But o go back to Loo do here?
I didn’t mean to do anyt of t. I ed peace and quiet. Peace! e once, in Loold you somet our old life t pretending it . I dare say it urnips, if you like. But turnips don’t live in terror of t lie a nig t slump and t self ill be toroug-place. I ed to get back t for a t soak into me. It like one of tern sages retiring into a desert. And I siring into t during t fe’ll be like time in ancient Rome t old Porteous elling me about, ting list for every cave.
But it t I ed to ced to get my nerve back before times begin. Because does anyone t time coming? e don’t even kno’ll be, and yet ’s coming. Per t it’ll be someto to t face t kind of t t feeling inside you. t’s gone out of us in ty years since t’s a kind of vital juice t ed ail t. All to and fro! Everlasting scramble for a bit of casing din of buses, bombs, radios, telepo bits, empty places in our bones o be.
I s door. t of going back to Loles ick t and fill t gulp before topuses. e’re all stifl