[22 Paradise Rd., Northampton, Mass.]
Letter 117. I think
ThisShamley Wood, Surreyits melodramas;b2 is merely a line to make the gap a little narrower, for I have been busied with practical matters: the household at Shamley has been in great bustle, because everyone is going away except the women who are to do, apparently, some prodigious spring cleaning which will go on for three weeks, no doubt directed by telephone from Hindhead. I have been dithering about wondering what to take away with me, for at this interim season it is difficult to decide upon the most probable proportion of heavy and light clothes: but one usually compromises and then is short of something. Ide la Mares, thegive TSE wartime refuge;a6 go tomorrow to the De la Mares for the weekend, the three weeks of possible mumps having expired to-day without any visible or sensible sign of infection; and after doing some business in town on Monday go down to Cambridge for the series of tasks I have outlined; and on Thursday come up just for the day to leave a plate at the dentist’s in the morning and to retrieve it in the afternoon by which time it will have been fitted with an extra tooth. (It is a frontish one). Iflowers and floracowslips;b2at Shamley;a1 did take a short stroll after lunch, to look for the cowslips, which are beginning to expand, andflowers and floraWood anemone;d3at Shamley;a1 in one dell not far away are mingled with the white wild anemone, with which they go very well. Nobirdscuckoo;b4as herald of spring;a2 cuckoo yet: and this, alasbirdsnightingale;c8hoped for at Herbert Read's;a6, is not one of the corners frequented by the nightingale, which I hope to hear later at Herbert Read’s – sincePike's Farmgraced by nightingales;b5 the Morleys left that is the only convenient spot in which to hear them. I hope after this four weeks not to have to go away again for the rest of the summer; exceptFabers, the;e9 that I may go down to Wales. When I say, not go away, I mean of course beyond my regular shuttle between here and London, or here and London and Much Hadham.
I may write a scribble from Cambridge; but you know what I am when separated from my typewriter. My gown, hood and surplice have been discovered. This is the time of year when I used to begin to count until your arrival in England: buttravels, trips and planspossible wartime transatlantic crossings;d7impossible for TSE unless official;a8 now go on hoping that some mission may appear to take me to America before I can again look forward to that – though I prefer the latter! especially in the spring, and because of memories.