again, you keep out of it.  your body plugged full of lead? Keep it for some girl. You t I tell you it isn’t like t. You don’t -c isn’t like you imagine. You don’t feel like a  you’ve ink like a polecat, you’re pissing your bags , and your   t doesn’t matter a damn, eit’s t erwards.’

    Makes no impression of course. t t of date. Migand at t tracts.

    to clear off. itct aking turer s and ttle Je up toget it again arian solidarity and dialectic of tic and rotsky said in 1917. t ill, very black nigo ars and didn’t ligance you could rains booming along treet. I ed a drink, but it en and t pub o talk to, t talk in a pub. It  of not ly of teeture and t. I ed to talk about time t’s eit coming, ts and treamlined men from eastern Europe o talk to  occurred to me to go and look up old Porteous, we hours.

    Porteous is a retired public-scer.  of to imagine t kind married. Lives all alone o do for in and poetry and all t. I suppose t if t Book Club brancs Progress, old Porteous stands for Culture. Neits muc Bletchley.

    t tle room s reading till all . As I tapped on t door rolling out as usual, o keep triking looking call, ’s a bit discoloured but mig belong to a boy, t be nearly sixty. It’s funny y co look like boys till t’s somets. Old Porteous  a rolling up and do tle back t makes you feel t all t some poem or ot conscious of   seeing tten all over o er. mospin, Greek, and cricket.  all t and old grey flannel bags tes, and ts up  I bet  of vie of a bounder. I  bee