tep back into , and finally I’d stepped back into it and found t it didn’t exist. I’d co my dreams, and lest take t.N.t.
ar is coming. 1941, ty of broken crockery, and little s of tered accountant’s clerk plastered over t kind of tter, anyell you ay in Lo’S ALL GOING tO at terrified of, t you tell yourself are just a nigries. truncs, ting out of bedroom ’s all going to —at any rate, I kne t against it if you like, or look tend not to notice, or grab your spanner and rus to do a bit of face-smas t. It’s just somet’s got to happen.
I trod on ttle rees and fields of ill tty nearly red-. I felt in muc t day in January my neeet seemed to me t I could see t, and all t’ll o all of times, of course, even t or t’s a tice ’s reassuring. tretcy. It’s like Siberia. And ttle grocers’ s’s too big to be co remain more or less tly I struck into outer London and follo lives inside t London stretcreets, squares, back-alleys, tenements, blocks of flats, pubs, fried-fisure-y miles, and all t million people tle private lives to ered. t made t could smas out of existence. And t! teness of all tting out tball coupons, Bill illiams sories in t million of to keep on to?
Illusion! Baloney! It doesn’t matter . times are coming, and treamlined men are coming too. ’s coming after kno erests me. I only kno if t, better say good-bye to it noo ttling all time.
But o the suburb my mood suddenly changed.
It suddenly struck me—and it even crossed my mind till t moment—t really be ill after all.
t’s t of environment, you see. In Loaken it absolutely for granted t s ill and me ural at time, I don’t knoo est Bletcate closed round me like a kind of red-brick prison, is, ts of t came back. I bloody rot it I’d ed t five days on. Sneaking off to Loo try and recover t, and t of propic baloney about ture. ture! ’s ture got to do ’s our future. As for ill t tter.
And suddenly I sao t. Of course t a fake! As tion! It trut s all, s t s be lying some