04 September

4 September 1920

Travelling to Menton, France

Fidgeting in her handbag, first she pulled out a powder puff, then a nice substantial handkerchief, then a paper parcel that held a very large wedge of cake, of the kind known as Dundee. This she cut with a penknife while he watched with some emotion.
This is the last of our precious Dundee, said she shaking her head over it & cutting it so tenderly that her gesture almost seemed an act of cannibalism. That's one thing I have learned, said he, and that is never to come abroad without one of Buszard's Dundees. Oh how she agreed.
And each taking a large wedge they bit into it and ate solemnly with round astonished eyes like little children in a confectionery shop who are allowed to eat sitting up to the counter.
More tea dear?
No thanks.
Sure?
A glance. (I sympathise with his glance for reply.)
I think I will just have a cup, said she gaily, so relieved to have a sip after all. Another dive into her bag and chocolate was produced. Chocolate. I had never realised before that chocolate is offered playfully. It is not a solemn food. It's as though one thought it rather absurd, but then who knows?
Perhaps.
What, said he & peered over the paper. No, no - dismissing the chocolate.
She had thought as much.
And having torn up little shreds of paper & wiped the cup the saucer & the knife clean she packed all tight again. But a final rummage in her bag produced an oval shaped paper, which, unwrapped, was an egg! This sight seemed to fill her with amazement. But she must have known the egg was there. She did not look as though she had. Brighteyed, her head on one side, she stared, and I fancied I heard an interrogatory clucking ...

[KM Notebooks, undated]