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| A brick wall at Sissinghurst |
Writing is still like heaving bricks over a wall; so you must interpret with your usual sympathy. I should like to growl to you about all this damned lying in bed and doing nothing, and getting up and writing half a page and going to bed again. I've wasted 5 whole years (I count) doing it; you you must call me 35 -- not 40 -- and expect rather less form me. Not that I haven't picked up something from my insanities and all the rest. Indeed I suspect they've done instead of religion. But this is a difficult point.
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