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December 15th 1942
The worst day of my life so far, ever, definitely. Frightful scenes up at Winshaw Towers as we came to pay tribute to poor Uncle Godfrey. Nobody can really believe that he’s gone: less than a month since he came to my birthday party.2 The memorial service was bad enough, what with Gra
Mind you, I certainly know how she feels. The service certainly brought a lump to the old throat, and for the rest of the afternoon I was in a pretty sombre mood, full of deepish thoughts about the futility of war and all that sort of racket. As Pater drove us home I started writing this sort of poem in my head:
In Memory of Uncle Godfrey
Weep, yea weep, ye men of War,
For one among you is no more.
The wind that howls round chapel walls,
Each drop of rain, each leaf that falls –
In mourning, all, for Matthew’s son,
So cruelly killed by filthy Hun.
Though fight we must – and not give in –
What bitter joy, if yet we win!
We used to call him ‘Uncle God’,
But now he lies ’neath Yorkshire’s sod,
Never to share in victor’s mirth —
Just pushing daisies through the earth.1
When Pater came up to say good-night I told him I didn’t think I could bear to go to war, the whole idea was just too dreadful. I don’t know what I shall do when my call-up papers come. But he told me not to worry about that and said something mysterious about wheels within wheels. Not exactly sure what he meant, but went to bed feeling oddly comforted.
November 12th 1946
After a decidedly sticky tutorial with Prof Goodman, my new – though in fact rather decrepit – Probability Tutor, went for a walk around Magdalen gardens. Oxford looking very beautiful this autumn evening. Am begi
And now, dear Diary, I am about to trust you with some top secret information: for the truth of the matter is, I THINK I AM IN LOVE. Yes! For the very first time! The President of the Association is a girl from Somerville called Margaret Roberts and I have to say that she is an absolute pip!1 An utterly gorgeous head of nut-brown hair – I just wanted to bury myself in it. Most of the time all I could do was stare at her but afterwards I did pluck up the nerve to go up and say how much I’d enjoyed the meeting. She thanked me and said she hoped I’d come again. Just try stopping me!
She made the most brilliant speech. Everything she said was true. It was all true. I’ve never heard it put so clearly before.
My heart and mind are yours, Margaret, to do with what you will.
February 11th 1948
Uncle Lawrence visited today. This is good news, because we’re only halfway through term and I’m already ru
After lunch Uncle and I took tea together in my rooms. I congratulated him on ribbing Gillam so successfully but he assured me that it had all been perfectly serious, and I would do well to remember what he’d said about the Health Service. He asked me what I was pla
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