22 Feb. Finchley–Woodside Park. With a storm promised for Thursday (Doris Day) I felt I was sneaking a walk in early. Which is odd because I almost always walk on Wednesdays anyway.
Note to self: I’m at a critical point in this country diary. I don’t want to write it. I’ve nothing to say. On the other hand, one of the key things about it, like dried prunes, is regularity. If you want to look back and track the changes you want to know what happened in February, week 8, even if what happened was you were particularly uninspired and irritable. I spend many, many days uninspired and irritable. The diary gives me a way of valuing them and perhaps, oddly, enjoying them more when I not infrequently come across them.
If I really was just writing for myself I could just cut & paste my journal entry. It is in a spreadsheet so the strange punctuation marks are comma separated values. Diary written. Five minutes work. Basta!
“Wed 22 Feb,170222-finchley-woodside_park,13 11,,a few light gusts. Storm (Doris Day) promised tomorrow,cloud & drizzle. too warm in mac.,,snowdrops a point. wild garlic (ramsones) poking through – but just a few at present near viaduct.,egret nr Fursby allotments with new yellow boots.,I didn’t see any fish.,,10 million at risk of deportation – which is unlikely to happen (no resources) most will just be made sick with worry. Trumpland. In Finchley lots of sirens and police chopper. C. Dick flexing?,another dumped trolley – too obvious to mention let alone photograph: so I photographed it anyway and now I’ve mentioned it as well.”
I wasn’t inspired by any entries in my diary compendium this week: I need a wider group to chose from. But I knew that Lawrence wouldn’t let me down.
DHL letters 23 Feb 1917 ; 1379 ; To Gordon Campbell ; Zennor.
” … It is spring coming here: already the birds singing and the silveriness in the air. I wish to God it was spring in the world of people. One is almost dead with the foulness of mankind.”