“Send me some milk and let the milk be hot. And send me some bread and let the bread be inside the milk.”
Next morning, having slept eight hours and fifteen minutes, I went to the manageress and:
“People,” I said, “are far too proud of their children and too fond of displaying them in public.... There is nothing wonderful about parentage and nothing clever. Most people are parents. I have been one myself.... Children should be seen and not heard.... If they raise their voices in the public rooms, they should be sent to their bedrooms. Some would suggest the coal-hole; but I, as you know, have a gentle heart.... Remember that we live in an age of reprisals. The privilege of screaming and yelling is not confined to children. Adults enjoy equal rights. Next time a child raises its voice in my presence, I shall in quick succession bellow like a bull, roar like a lion, howl like a jackal, laugh like a hyena. If you drive me to it, I shall copy all the shriller domestic animals.... The matter is now in your hands.”
Monday, 7 February.
Peace reigns at Ventnor....
Wednesday, 16 February.
... I start my sock-and-tie stunt, which consists in “copycatting” daily, Austin Read seconding, an absurd young man of half my age. Thus do the elderly amuse themselves for the further amusement of a limited circle....
Tuesday, 22 February.
Stephen’s letter of 20.1.21 to his mother arrives. [I again varied my itinerary and had decided to make my way to Valparaiso through the Straits of Magellan rather than across the Andes.] So he is travelling in the wake of H.M.S. Beagle and the late Charles Robert Darwin! He’ll be perished with cold; but he’s more likely to get a fish or two to eat....
Sunday, 27 February.