Holy God, how have I lived my life without Joan Wyndham? I’m reading the first volume of her diaries that she kept during World War II, Love Lessons, and I am seriously thinking about stealing this book from the library and keeping it forever. (I won’t though of course.) She charms me.
Poor darling Jo, I don’t love him a bit but I am divinely happy playing the fool with him. I know I shouldn’t, because he keeps saying, ‘Oh what an absolute bugger, oh you little bitch!’ We do sometimes reach the farthest point of passion after which coition should naturally occur – only it can’t. Also he complains that I don’t respond much or wiggle as he’d like me to. I really don’t get much urge to wiggle.
Oh, God. I am sad I only discovered her after she was already dead. Life’s a bitch.