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9.45 p.m. It seems terribly late but not surprising as after I got back here I walked to the bank, went into the market, found they had cherries which I had hoped for but was surprised to see. And, carrying a sale price Jerusalem Bible walked back. I knew Julian had been interested in the Dali Jerusalem Bible and that dismissed the last vestige of my common sense and conscience. The paperback is $9 and as this was $19 you can see I hardly put up a resistance.
On the way back in the taxi, the driver regaled me with an account of his day's frustrations. One story was of how a woman had a ball thrown full in her face because she had asked the boys to play a little further away. It smashed her glasses. She rang up the boy's mother who said she could do nothing because she had no money and lived in penury as her husband had left her. So she got her lawyer son to ring up. He said she had no redress in law but he would try. Same result, but the mother said it was not her boy who had done it and suggested calling the mother of the friend. This, with some misgivings, he did and found he was talking to a colleague. He referred him back to the first woman. So he explained the tragic circumstances of the first woman who couldn't possibly reimburse his mother for the glasses. The lawyer laughed incredulously and explained it was typical. “In fact”, said he, “she is as rich as Croesus. She lives in a $240,000 house in” (naming a very wealthy and luxurious place just near UCLA), and that her husband was also v. well-to-do, and that they lived on the best of terms. The taxi driver's woman friend, who is really poor, at this point felt it was time to call it a day. The driver said, “You can't cope with the rich”. “That”, I said, “is why they are rich”. But I made a somewhat rueful note to myself that this could very well be Mrs J. – whose addiction to the truth is outstanding and whom I am supposed to be analysing but who has completely shot the analysis to bits.
One more example o