Thursday (Torquay) (6 March 1919)

I am sitting on one of the little beaches at Torquay, and my hand is shaking from skipping of many stones.

My sister’s Art Shop is called “The Blue Bird”.  “The Birds” have queer and varied experiences.  Today a very tall young ex-soldier came in – wanted to learn painting, felt that he had “something in him”, and would find a vent either in art or poetry – wasn’t sure which – wanted to learn to paint “Futurist” pictures, and was wooing his muse of a non-metrical type, “something like prose” he put it.

An old maid is sitting nearby producing a masterpiece in water – seems afraid to mix any paint with it.

Myrtle Lee - Interior of Blue Bird - c1919

 [Image: Myrtle Lee, ‘Interior of the Blue Bird’, c1919]

Friday (28th February 1919)

Good sleep in a big bed with a nice little fire beside it.  Plenty of “good words” enframed on the walls.  They are arranged so as to take you by surprise.  You go into a little recess to have a wash, and are confronted with “He sees you”.  After a huge breakfast and a chat with mine host and hostess, I tramped back to M’s haunt.

Parts of the Moor reminded me of the gum-country in New Zealand, but it is not so dreary as that.  It is inhabited by fine little shaggy ponies, with very fat tummies.