The last two days have been clear, cold and sunny. I’ve been stuck at home on my own each day, passing the hours between Dad’s departure for work at one and Mum’s return from school at four in a frustrated torpor, mindlessly scribbling on pieces of paper.
The sun has just now set and it is only three o’clock. I’m still in much doubt and indecision over what form (in precise terms) the new regime should take. I’ve begun to read one of the books set for over the vacation: The Twenties by Fred Hoffmann.
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