Thinking

Tuesday, June 14th., Villa des Nefliers, Fontainebleau.

I seem to be doing an average of 2,000 words a day now of "Clayhanger". Only 13,000 words remain to be done. But they are very much on my mind.

When I am not working here, I am walking in the forest and worrying over the invention, 5 to 7 miles a day. Of course it is impossible to appreciate the forest whilst preoccupied with one's work. I look forward to completing the novel, and I shall then endeavour (for a little while at least) to lose myself in the here and now. I want to focus on the immediate sensations of life, the sense impressions, the sights, sounds and smells; even the feel of the air on the skin. It is impossible to do this when 'thinking'. So much of what we call thinking is nothing of the sort. It is the mind drifting aimlessly, often going in circles around some problem, or more likely just replaying past situations. My aim will be to stop thinking and to start living.

I rise at 5.45 and go to bed about 9.30. 

Additionally for June 14th., see 'Dramatic events'

On getting to the Yacht Club from Richmond at 1.30 I had a telephone message from Marguerite to say that she and Anna were in the air raid at Liverpool Street and unhurt. Today I found out that though the end of their train (11.38) was bombed, Marguerite knew nothing of it, and Anna was only sure that she saw smoke 'by the side of the train' behind her. Neither heard cries of wounded, or broken glass or anything. Marguerite heard 4 bombs, or 5. Anna said she heard a noise and thought it was guns; then she saw a girl porter running and heard her cry "Oh", and thought it was an accident. When she realised it was bombs she remembered nothing more till she 'found herself' near underground lavatory, where people were taking refuge, with Marguerite. They were in different carriages and had lost each other. She saw people 'crouching down' (near base of girders apparently).

This morning I saw remains of a German aeroplane being motored up Piccadilly.