26 September

26 September 1920

Travelling to Menton, France

Samedi soir.
I heard again from Methuen today. They now say they'd like 2 books for next spring. I think there must have been some trunk work, some back stair work in this on the part of Bogey. But Ill see what I can do without promising in my fatal way what I can't perform. I wish I could begin real creative work. I haven't yet. Its the atmosphere, the . . . tone which is hard to get. And without it nothing is worth doing. I have such a horror of triviality - a great part of my Constable book is trivial. Its not good enough. You see its too late to beat about the bush any longer. They are cutting down the cherry trees; the orchard is sold - that is really the atmosphere I want. Yes, the dancing and the dawn of the Englishman in the train who said ‘jump!', all these, with the background. I feel - this is jet sincere - that you and I are the only 2 persons who realise this really. Thats our likeness and thats what makes us, too, the creatures of our time.
Reams came from Brett.  She ruffled my feathers. She is keeping you at your tennis because of the good it does you. Your Mind can think of Nothing/Except the Flying Ball. You are not to be allowed to work too hard but she means to be wily & in the future you and I and she & Gertler are all going to live in some huge untidy chateau with Arthur ‘for a tornado' upsetting my exquisite ways & eating all the jam. This made me - all the heathen in me - rage so furiously together! Sunday afternoon.
Really today is the Best Day. Its hot - yet theres a breeze. Im much better. [Letter to J. M. Murry in Collected Letters, 25 September 1920]