This morning I said something to Dad about Franz Marc and August Macke dying in WWI and he agreed that it was a total waste and then expressed admiration for Siegfried Sassoon's antiwar poems: “I’ve read Goodbye To All That three times. . . .” Sometimes I just don't understand him.
From eight in the morning on I did art revision which made me regret not taking an Art History course. The Art exam’ is tomorrow. I continued to revise most of the rest of the afternoon, alone in the dining room with Nanna P. Outside it was chilly and overcast. Occasionally a bird sang.
Paul Klee - “I want to be as though newborn, knowing absolutely nothing about Europe; ignoring facts and fashions, to be almost primitive.”
George Balanchine - “I want you to write a polka.”
Igor Stravinsky - “Who for?”
GB - “Elephants.”
IS - “How old?”
GB - “Young.”
IS - “If they’re very young I’ll do it!”
In the evening garbled news came through of a ceasefire in the Falklands, then it seemed, a lasting surrender. I watched Italy v Poland (0-0) and Brazil v Russia (2-1).
All is silent as I write except for the loud hiss of the gas fire.