Village books

When anyone
expostulated with him about cooking his own breakfast and fetching
his own water, he replied that it was good for him to have a change
of occupation. This was partly the fact, but the real reason, which
he could not tell everyone, was that he shrank from inconveniencing
anybody; he always paid more than was necessary when anything was
done for him, and was not happy then unless he did some of the work
himself.
At 5.30 he got his evening meal, he called it his tea, and it was
little more than a facsimile of breakfast. Alfred left in time to
post the letters before six. Butler then wrote music till about 8,
when he came to see me in Staple Inn, returning to Clifford's Inn by
about 10. After a light supper, latterly not more than a piece of
toast and a glass of milk, he played one game of his own particular
kind of Patience, prepared his breakfast things and fire ready for
the next morning, smoked his seventh and last cigarette, and went to
bed at eleven o'clock.
He was fond of the theatre, but avoided serious pieces.


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