JANE’S JOURNAL

New Zealand Listener, Volume 3, Issue 63, 6 September 1940, Page 35

JANE’S JOURNAL

SUNDAY Thank heaven for one morning to lie in late! Think of writing essay on "Pleasures of Not Getting Up." Fellowfeeling with Chinese mandarin who had a slave wake him three times each morning just to tell him he could go to sleep again. Telephone finally roused mewas reminded that I had arranged to walk Summit Road this afternoon, and would I please catch right train this time and not one half-hour later. Replied coldly and untruthfully that I was almost ready. Noticeably fewer cars on road this time; consequently less exercise in leaping to side of road, and more chance to enjoy views strung along the road like beads on a chain. Conspicuous black-on-orange signposts rather irritating to a native, but doubtless strangers

like to know whether they are looking at " View of Avoca Valley" of " View of Governor’s Bay." MONDAY Black Monday feeling accentuated by grisly weather (Portmanteau word from "grim" and "drizzly" — must confess not original). Spent ten minutes this a.m. trying to persuade office girl that tea is better made with boiling water. Office girl does not drink tea, so is unmoved by tea leaves floating wistfully about cup. Went into town at lunchtime to buy badly-needed hearthbrush for flat -ours completely bald. Bought Noel Langley’s "Tale of the Land of Green Ginger" instead. Saw it tucked away among children’s books and _ couldn’t resist its lovely binding and perfect illustrations. Hope nephews and nieces will appreciate as much as I do. (At present have only one nephew, too young to cope with anything more advanced. than "Simple Simon.") Also bought "Rebecca." Read borrowed copy eighteen months ago and have hankered to possess my own ever since. Hope Helen will be appeased for lack of hearthbrush by two such desirable additions to bookshelves. TUESDAY Went to Doctor to-day about chilblains, He confirmed my suspicion that no in(continued on next page)

JANE’S JOURNAL (continued from previous page) fallible cure is yet known, " except wintering on the Riviera or a South Sea Island." Only hope for poor working girl is to keep hands and feet warm by plenty of exercise. Pointed out I am chained to office desk all day. Was told to stand up now and then and do armflinging exercises we used to do at school. Can imagine sensation this would cause at office. Tried it to-night at home and split seam in new frock. But chilblains so maddening that I intend to wear skirt and pullover to-morrow and give it a trial, in spite of inevitable rude comments.

WEDNESDAY The Great Panjandrum asked office girl if she was using new tea, as it had "less resemblance to tepid dishwater than usual." Refrained from saying, "I told you so!" Have been christened " Boy Scout," because accountant says my antichilblain antics remind him of youthful attempts at Semaphore, Also warned me not to perform outside, lest I am suspected of signalling to parachute troops. (Nevertheless, my hands kept warmer). Caused minor upheaval by upsetting inkwell with particularly abandoned fling, and had to bring curtain home to treat with sour milk and salt. No sour milk available, of course, so had to add drop

of lemon juice. Seems to be working, although treatment rather belated.

THURSDAY

Suddenly remembered in middle of morning that to-day is anniversary of my disengagement. Went into short trance while I took stock. Came to conclusion I still feel somewhat unanchored but am convinced it was best thing for us both. Wonder what David thinks. Startled office girl by sudden snort of mirth at recollection of inquiry of wellmeaning friend who asked me a year ago what it felt like to be a loose woman again. Saw "Rebecca" to-night and contrary to expectations was not disappointed. Far from it. Did not believe

spirit of book could be so faithfully brought out in film. One major but necessary change in plot, and several minor but unnecessary ones, could not spoil the magnificent acting and direction. Thought ending of book, with Maxim and "I" driving back from London together, was more effective. "Rebecca" joins ranks of " Petrified Forest," " Winterset," "The Scoundrel," "Three Comrades," " Night of the Fire," and " Of Mice and Men,"

FRIDAY

A perfect winter day-hard frost followed by brilliant sunshine, and no wind. Was restless all day at being shut inside. To make matters worse, can see the hills from my desk. Went furniturehunting in lunch hour-wanted an oldfashioned chest of drawers instead of dressing table. Cheaper and much roomier. Bought rather a lovely kauri one secondhand, with small mother-of-pearl insets in the knob-handles. Drawers feel as if they run on ball-bearings. Seems a pity to paint the warm reddish wood, as I had intended. Also inquired at various places for_a second-hand bicycle-no success. Apparently people are hanging on to their bicycles these petrol-rationed days. Letter in well-known handwriting in box when I arrived home caused unexpected weak-kneed sensation. From David, readdressed from "Hilltop." Evidently doesn’t know we’ve sold the old home, (Why should he-I’ve never written to him since.) Says he wanted me to get it yesterday. He’s coming south for his holidays, with the possibility of being transferred here, and arrives on Sunday morning. Will ring me about mid-day, and is mine as ever. Well! Simply don’t know what to think. All very well feeling calm and collected with David safely in Auckland, but meeting him again might be a little unsettling, although my mind was made up a year ago, and I’ve no reason to change it.

SATURDAY

Woke with feeling something had happened, and then remembered. What with usual Saturday morning envy of five-day-weekers-however, one mustn’t complain. Think of the milkmen. Borrowed Michael for afternoon and took him for walk to distract own thoughts, Progress erratic and undignified as we stopped to inspect dustbins (Michael’s latest passion). Only from a distance, despite his protests. Passed field with dispirited-looking cow rubbing against fence. Michael studied it a while then asked, " What’s that forse got horns for?" Told him, not a horse, and rashly tried to explain essential differences. Michael offered cow mangled remains of applecore. Cow preferred to stick to grass, but politely moo’d thanks. Michael remarked in tones of pained surprise, "That forse-cow is talking with — its mouth full." Two and a-half is an entertaining age. Am now going to bed-early-with peculiar feeling in pit of stomach. Not sure whether it’s David’s impending arrival, or incipient ’flu.