Hairsbreadth's deviation

I had predictable dreams in which I was pursued through Wollstonecraft Hall by a vampiric Lee. I didn’t get up until midday.

I rang Grant. He told me that he and Nik are producing a magazine. Grant will contribute the poems and Nik will illustrate them. They’re having around fifty printed and Grant wants to get in touch with Yorkshire Arts.

I spent the rest of the day playing records.

My inaction is dangerous; say it time and time again and never lose sight of this fact or I’ll never be rid of it. It's like a terminal illness or increasing blindness; I’ll have to struggle all my life to stave off this chronic apathy. I must keep my head above water. But, I don’t feel pissed off and I’m still cheerful. I just kick myself for wasting opportunity.

Rob and Carol arrived back from Conishead at teatime and brought an atmosphere with them; it felt like they’d been arguing. Carol still suffers pain from her mouth which isn’t healing.

Robert, predictably, was full of talk about the week just gone: “I could’ve stayed there for years.” Buddhism dominates his life to such an extent that I wonder how long it will be before he renounces the trappings of his teaching career and goes to Conishead permanently to live. I wonder if he appreciates the significance of his comment, for one day he’ll have to go, or give his beliefs up as a bad job, because it seems to me that you can’t compromise.

You have to go the whole way. I feel very restless.