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This blog makes liberal use of AB's journals, letters, travel notes, and other sources.
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Thursday, 22 August 2013
In the night the temperature fell to 15 degrees Centigrade (59 Fahrenheit), in my bedroom. I went out for a walk at 9 a.m. It seemed like autumn, with a mild cloudiness, and damp, clasping cold. And everything seemed very beautiful and strange. I thought what a pity it would be if I could not spend the autumn in the country. I walked by little field-paths about the village 'allotments', where one or two men and women were working and a dog pointing. I went far enough to see the view of Moret, and then returned, calling at the barber's. "Fait froid", said the barber, rubbing his hands.
Play progressing well. I said today that my health had become so disconcertingly good that I felt as if I ought to go and see a doctor about it.
Additionally for August 22nd., see 'Welcomed at the Grange' - http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/welcomed-at-grange.html