Much has happened since that day, and I will endeavour here to set down some record of the intervening years.In 1936, soon after completing my account of events in Hopton Wood and the subsequent happenings, I decided that I had had enough of London life, and looked around for a quiet place in the country. My decision was prompted by two main factors: surrounded by so many people in the city, accosted by crowds whenever I ventured out, I was forever reminded that I was set apart from those around me by an accidental and arbitrary stroke of circumstance. Surrounded by people, I was in the paradoxical situation of being made to feel isolated and lonely. The sight of couples arm in arm on the street, dining together in restaurants, filled me with despair. I had two brief affairs in the years before the war, but neither of these were true meetings of minds, still less communions of the soul: the easy physical aspect of both liaisons served to point up the emotional lacunae that existed between me and both these women.
