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My darling,
Here I am – sitting in a chair in a gale of wind. So I am obviously coming on, but what I shall be when the draught is finished is nobody's business …
I am at the moment feeling a bit depressed about my paper, wondering if it's all just working round stalking a most majestic mare's nest; a horrid feeling. The fact that there are correlations between scientific hypotheses and interpretations is at first reassuring, but then I begin to wonder if it is only an appearance caused by my saying commonplaces, that everyone knows, in a high-falutin' way. Ending up with a blinding flash of the obvious.
I have sent off a note to Parthenope and would like to send Julian and Nicola one. I must try to think of a way I could write Julian a letter he might read for himself and perhaps one he could read Nicola.
February 12. Tea and toast has just turned up but the nurse does not know what I am supposed to have – two slices? – three slices? Marmalade? Me: No, no marmalade and I forget if it's two or three. Nurse: Your egg hasn't come. Do you have an egg? Me: I had one yesterday for breakfast and one for my supper. Nurse: Oh, then it must be an egg. Q.E.D. I suppose, but it hadn't occurred to me that that was how the logic goes. I can see I am getting too well to appreciate all my luxuries here …