Nothing Like Blood (1985)
“It’s my own fault, really. I realized, as I made a certain remark, that I was throwing out a challenge, not to any individual but to fate. I had not really taken ‘it’ seriously. Good, gossiping Mrs Jerrison and those ridiculous Natterleys had failed to convince me that there was anything more in the house than a mild attack of mass hysteria. So during lunch, which gathers most of us together, I dropped my bombshell.
“I always keep a diary,” I said.
Phiz exploded.
“Sheer sentimentality, diary-keeping,” was her snorted comment. “Or exhibitionism.”
“Not at all. My diary has very little in it about me.”
“What is it about, then?”
“The people I meet, chiefly. Their affairs interest me far more than my own.”
“Worse,” said Phiz. “Mean to say after you leave us at night you go up to your room and write about us?”
“When there’s anything to write about.”
“Perhaps you would tell us,” said the bishop rather haughtily, “whether you have found the trivialities of our life in this house worth a place... in your diary?”MoreLess
“I always keep a diary,” I said.
Phiz exploded.
“Sheer sentimentality, diary-keeping,” was her snorted comment. “Or exhibitionism.”
“Not at all. My diary has very little in it about me.”
“What is it about, then?”
“The people I meet, chiefly. Their affairs interest me far more than my own.”
“Worse,” said Phiz. “Mean to say after you leave us at night you go up to your room and write about us?”
“When there’s anything to write about.”
“Perhaps you would tell us,” said the bishop rather haughtily, “whether you have found the trivialities of our life in this house worth a place... in your diary?”MoreLess
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