"I tell you what it's like. It's like she's given me a box full of really nice things, but before she's put them in the box she's broken them all. And I've only realised when I get home."
I overheard this somewhere around Clerkenwell. Two women sitting on a bench, not lunchtime, a smoking break I think.
When people no longer gather at the entrances of buildings or in adjacent gardens to share cigarettes and confidences something will be lost. The worst loss is that which in our complacency we are apt not to notice.
Often difficult choosing a book, more so when in circumstances of preparing to be alone with the thing (other books and distractions being excluded) for some time. Best to take one from your own shelves, and one from someone else's (shop, library, friend or relative), make the two dissimilar. Thus if hacked off with one, the other should be tolerable. If neither can be borne one is a spoilt brat and deserves what one gets. At least that's the theory.
First encounter between Durrell's Alexandria narrator and Justine described such that now difficult not to fall on the thing and suck it dry before Thursday. 'Scarlet and Black' is more portable, having been reminded of S. by C. the other day. I want to see if he is as clear as I remember, as he wished to be.