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This blog makes liberal use of AB's journals, letters, travel notes, and other sources.

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Tuesday, 1 January 2013


Sunday, January 1st., London.

During the final quarter of last year I produced about twice as much work as in any previous similar period. I wrote two thirds of a serial story, four or five short stories, a lot of reviews for the Academy, and all my usual stuff for Woman and Hearth and Home.
I was sound asleep at midnight and missed the customary fireworks, which were, apparently, particularly noisy. The benefit was that I woke this morning feeling rested and refreshed, and the sun was shining. Susan and I went for a lengthy walk. Clear, pale blue sky. Excellent visibility. Sense of expansiveness. Even a hint of warmth in the sun every now and then. Hungry when we got home and made an excellent lunch of left-over chicken. Feeling quite tired now.
Mrs. Kennerley was here today to have tea with Ma. She said, speaking of the diseases of children: "We never used to think of having the doctor for measles. I had all my children down at once. We kept them in the sitting-room during the day, and carried them upstairs at night. They went on quite well. It is different now. People seem to be more afraid, but we never used to think of the doctor in those days."
"Those days" would be 15 or 16 years ago.

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