21 Jan
21 Jan
21 January 1920
Measure for Measure. A day like a dream. Vince's hair, stick, jacket, teeth, tie all to be remembered - to use a volgarism I'm fed up. The journey, the flowers, & these women here. Jinnie's black satin neckcloth & pearl pin. This exquisite cleanliness turns me into a cat. Dreamed of Jeanne, Marie and Violet. [KM Notebooks]
My own precious Husband
I have escaped. Do you know what that means? There has been a postal strike in Italy - no letters, no wires. Nothing comes through or goes out - a strike of the railways - and now from today a strike of automobiles. We just got through by taking a roundabout route & escaping the police.
ALL ALL my thoughts, hopes, longings were for an answer to my telegram, here. I managed to get a telegram telephoned to you at Menton - at what pains I cant describe - and I knew there was time for an answer. I simply TORE the telegram from these people & read story arrived safely not even a signature. Was that from you? Could it have been. I have sent Ida out with another - thats all I can do. For about a moment I nearly broke down but I must steel myself & wait wait wait again.
Bogey I have got away from that hell of isolation - from the awful ringing at night - from the loneliness & fright. To tell you the truth I think I have been mad, but really, medically mad. A great awful cloud has been on me & now if I hear from you & all is well it will lift & you will see your own Wig under it - the old true loving Wig - your OWN wife who adores you. Its nearly killed me. Yes. When J. took me in her arms today & she cried as well as I I felt as though Id been through some awful deathly strain - and just survived - been rescued from drowning or something like that. You can't understand love - its not possible you should know what that isolation was when you left again and I again was ill - [To J.M.Murry in Collected Letters]