Thursday, February 19th., Grand Hotel d'Italie, Mont Estoril, Portugal.
This change of scene is doing me the world of good. The only question is whether I shall be able to go back to my former way of life. Swinnerton has impressed upon me, and he is correct, that my emotional decline was due to the constant stress and antagonism arising from my relationship with Marguerite. He hasn't said as much but I am sure he thinks we should separate, if not divorce. He is right about that as well, but can I bring myself to initiate such a course? What I would really like is for Marguerite to tell me she has had enough of marriage and wants to live by herself. Am I a moral coward? Of course I am!
I have painted five watercolours since coming here. They are not good, but I have done worse and it is the activity, not the end product that matters. We have had bad weather, even very bad, but with marvellous sunsets. The weather is now improving, the barometer is rising and this morning is beautiful. I am in excellent health and I dream a lot at night. I think that is good. It is as if I am ridding myself of negative feelings. This journey has given me back my taste for travel. I would like to travel more but what bothers me is having two unused establishments. It does bother me. It makes life too complicated and it is too expensive. If I didn't have domestic expenses it would be as cheap to travel as to stay at home.
The main drawback of this hotel is that there are doors between the bedrooms, which is annoying. I have very proper neighbours who read until late at night but never breathe a word. They are a man of 40 and his wife of 30 so I speculate that my presence through the dividing door must necessarily be inhibiting their conjugal activities. Unless they are carrying on in silence. Perhaps so. That might be quite erotic as I think about it. More likely though that they come up during the day and are content to read at night. Or that they don't do anything much. They are English after all!
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