evening I ill in doubt as to een quid on.

        o t Book Club meeting. It seemed t to lecture, to say    knoure o be about. I told    mucures, but t m, starting rain,    me into a kind of tful mood. After t    to bed early and cleared off in time for ture, w o’clock.

        It y kind of evening, and t too tle y of some Nonist sect or ot for ten bob. teen or sixteen people    of tform t ture    altogetct, ect’s office, aking turer round, introdug o everyone as Mr So-and-so (I fet i-Fascist’, very muc call somebody ‘t’. turer tle c forty, in a dark suit, ried rato cover up h wisps of hair.

        Meetings of tart on time. t on te pero turn up. It    ty-five past eigct tapped on table and did uff. itct’s a mild- looking    kind of face t’s aly, and s as M.C. at terures for t you migells you ed o form tonig . I never look at    t tle lecturer took out a es, gs, and pier. t o s.

        Do you ever go to lectures, public meetings, and ?

        o one myself, t during t:    t people urn out on a er nigting in t ever remember going to any kind of public meeting    in t. , as usual. It tle ced iron roof, and enougs to make you    to keep your overcoat on. ttle knot of us ting in t round tform,    ty roy cs of all ty. On tform beurer t-clot ually it iano.

        At t exactly listening. turer tle c a good speaker. e face, very mobile mouting voice t t from stant speaking. Of course co ler and t particularly keen to     tuff in t o me as a kind of burr-burr-burr,    struck out and caugtention.

        ‘Bestial atrocities. . . . bursts of sadism. . . . Rubber truncration camps. . . . Iniquitous persecution of to tion. . . . Act before it is too late. . . . Indignation of all det peoples. . . . Alliance of tiations. . . . Firm stand. . . . Defence of democracy. . . . Democracy. . . . Fascism. . . . Democracy. . . . Fascism. . . . Democracy. . . .’

        You knoalk. t out by t like a gramopurn tton, and it starts. Democracy, Fascism, Democracy. But some ied me to ctle man, e fad a bald anding on a platform, sing out slogans. ’s e deliberately, and quite openly, irring up red. Doing    to make you e certain fners called Fascists. It’s a queer t, to be knoi-Fascist’. A queer trade, anti-Fascism. ting books against ler. But ion applies to doctors, detectives, rat-catg voice    on and on, and anot struck me. . Not faking at all—feels every o    t’s noto tred ruto    eresting to knoe life. But does e life? Or does form to platform, w up red? Perhaps even his dreams are slogans.

        As    to t,    o sit in draugening to Left Book Club lectures (and I sider t I’m entitled to t I’d do myself on tain significe. e’re t Bletaries. Doesn’t look    first sig struck me as I looked round t only about    turer alking about, time co ler and t’s al ings of t a notion of ’s all about. In able itct curer ed smile, and tle like a pink geranium. You could urer sat doerure in aid of trousers for t iing—give us all a lot to t—most stimulating evening!’ In t roting very uprigtle on one side, like a bird. turer aken a s of paper from uumbler and    statistics about te. You could see by t s feeling    it? If only s    ! tting t to ttle ting a jumper. One plain, t togeturer imes tioner makes a bos. teaing, sitting forurer and tle bit open, drinking it all in.

        Just bey ting. Oacs. You knoype. Been in ty si. Lives given up to t. ty years of being blacklisted by employers, and anoten of badgering to do somet ty stuff doesn’t matter any longer. Find tcn politics—ler, Stalin, bombs, mati- intern pact. ’t make ail of it. Immediately in front of me t Party brang. All t money and is sometate pany, in fact I believe    one of t you’d t.    sevey.    and a brigie t     to t ting. But t seems, is a different kind of unist and not-quite, because    trotskyist. t a doure quite differently from t t question-time started. You could see tctle trotskyist o get in ahers.

        I’d stopped listening to tual ure. But tening. I s my eyes for a moment. t of t o see tter when I could only hear his voice.

        It    sounded as if it could go on for a f stopping. It’s a gly to    of ing propaganda at you by te, e, e. Let’s all get togete. Over and over. It gives you t somet inside your skull and is    for a moment, , I mao turn tables on    inside    ion. For about a sed I    say I AS    any rate, I felt w he was feeling.

        I sa     at all t    be talked about.     ler’s after us and    all get togete. Doesn’t go into details. Leaves it all respectable. But . It’s a picture of    faces, of course. I KNO t’s    I    e ago is just a great big blob of stra. And it’s all O.K. because to Fascists. You could    in tone of his voice.

        But ion, because iff . t suffit fo be a little more frigler’s after us! Quick! Let’s all grab a spanner aoget smasler’s blad Stalin’s    it mig as , because in ttle cler and Stalih mean spanners and smashed faces.

        ar! I started t it again. It’s ing soon, t’s certain. But o say,    isn’t t matters, it’s ter-o, te-s, trunc cells ectives cers ill to t time, under to puke. It’s all going to    it? Some days I kno’s impossible, ot’s iable. t nig any rate, I kne o    tle lecturer’s voice.

        So perer all ttle cro’ll turn out on a er nigo listen to a lecture of t any rate in t it’s all about. tposts of an enormous army. ted o rats to spot t ts are ing! Spanners ready, boys! Smaserrified of ture t raigo it like a rabbit diving dorictor’s t.

        And rut probably    make test difference. As for turer and ts in t’ll make plenty of differeo to    as usual. A frigell you it frig started to opped and sat down.

        ttle sound of clapping t you get een people in tct said s    toget t    on for about ten minutes, full of a lot of stuff t nobody else uood, sucical materialism and tiny of tariat and urer, ood up and gave a summing-up t made trotskyist    on    pleased t    on unofficially for a bit longer. Nobody else did any talking.    ture ended. Probably to be a colle to pay for ttle aying to finising itcct sat and beamed at ing it all al notes, and to ttle open, and tac up to    looking up at t t . And finally I got up and began to put on my overcoat.

        t urned into a private rotle trotskyist and t o join t. As I edged my o get out, to me.

        ‘Mr Bo? If you were young, I mean.’

        I suppose    sixty.

        ‘You bet I ,’ I said. ‘I o go on    time.’

        ‘But to smash Fascism!’

        ‘Ohere’s been enough smashing done already, if you ask me.’

        ttle trotskyist    arayal of t t :

        ‘But you’re t    an ordinary imperialist ime it’s different. Look    ration camps and ting people up run eac it make your blood boil?’

        t your blood boiling. Just the war, I remember.

        ‘I    off told    a trench smells like.’

        And to see     moment.

        A very young eager face, migo a good-looking sco actually    tears in    as strongly as all t about t as a matter of fact I kne    brains, too. And ting beed ering figures in a ledger, ting piles of notes, bumsug to tting auff’s ing over trencry oke. Probably some of ing in Spain. Of course    I     of years     of t sering    day in August er ENGLAND DECLARES AR ON GERMANY, and o t in our rons and cheered.

        ‘Listen son,’ I said, ‘you’ve got it all    it o be a glorious business. ell, it . It    a bloody mess. If it es again, you keep out of it.    your body plugged full of lead? Keep it for some girl. You t I tell you it isn’t like t. You don’t -’t like you imagine. You don’t feel like a    you’ve ink like a polecat, you’re pissing ys , and your     t doesn’t matter a dam’s t erwards.’

        Makes no impression of course. t t of date. Migand at t tracts.

        to clear off. itct aking turer s and ttle Je up toget it again arian solidarity and dialectic of tid rotsky said in 1917. t ill, very blaigo ars and didn’t ligance you could rains booming along treet. I ed a drink, but it en and t pub o talk to, t talk in a pub. It    of not ly of teeture and t. I ed to talk about time t’s eit ing, ts and treamlined men from eastern Europe o talk to    occurred to me to go and look up old Porteous, we hours.

        Porteous is a retired public-scer.    of to imagi kind married. Lives all alone o do for in and poetry and all t. I suppose t if t Book Club brancs Progress, old Porteous stands for Culture. s muc Bletchley.

        t tle room s reading till all . As I tapped on t door rolling out as usual, o keep triking looking call, ’s a bit discoloured but mig belong to a boy, t be nearly sixty. It’s funny y co look like boys till t’s somets. Old Porteous    a rolling up and do tle back t makes you feel t all t some poem or ot scious of     seeing tten all over o er. mospin, Greek, and cricket.    all t and old grey flannel bags tes, and ts up    I bet    of vie of a bounder. I    been to a public soin and don’t even    to. ells me sometimes t it’s a pity I’m ‘insensible to beauty’,    I’ve got no education. All table in t kind of o alk at all    drinks ed by    does you good to get out of it sometimes into a baosptering except books and poetry and Greek statues, and notioning imes t’s a fort too.

        o t    dim    black. It’s a smallis for t up to telpiece t. A roobacco jar eous’s college on it, and a little eartold me ain in Sicily. Over telpiece tos of Greek statues. tepping out to catceous ime I sa, not knoter, I asked    stick a .

        Porteous started refilling elpiece.

        ‘t intolerable airs ,’ o live t of my life out of to knoion?’

        I told olerable’, and it tickles me, in 1938, to find someone objeg to eous rolling up and dos and    instantly alking about some la musical instruments t ime of Pericles. It’s al eous. All alk is about t uries ago. ever you start off    alo statues and poetry and tion tart telling you about Priremes. o kno aimes, and takes a pride in telling you t o tures. Except for a fes like Keats and ords of vie t oug to have happened.

        I’m part of t I like to alk. roll round t first one book and ttle puffs of smoke, generally o translate it from tin or somet’s all kind of peaceful, kind of mellotle like a scer, a sooten you aren’t in trains and gas bills and insuranpanies. It’s all temples and olive trees, and peacocks and eleps, and d tridents, and s, and generals in brass armalloping t’s funny t toned on to a c it’s one of tages of being fat t you    fit into almost any society. Besides    on on ground o dirty stories. t, t modern.    it, alells a story in a veiled kind of imes    some Lati and translate a smutty r to your imagination, or s about te lives of t    on in temples of Aso , teous    pograpings some would make your hair curl.

        ’s often done me a lot of good to go and alk eous. But tonig didn’t seem to. My mind ill running on t    as I’d done    Book Club lecturer, I didly listen to o t eous’s didn’t. It oo peaceful, too Oxfordy. Finally, whing, I chipped in and said:

        ‘tell me, Porteous, ler?’

        Old Porteous    on t    took    of h.

        ‘ler? t think of him.’

        ‘But trouble is o bloody    him before he’s finished.’

        Old Porteous s at t like, t’s part of o be s smoke.

        ‘I see no reason for paying any attention to urer. these people e and go. Ephemeral, purely ephemeral.’

        I’m not certain    I stiy point:

        ‘I t it . So’s Joe Stalin. t like t for t. ter somete ne’s never been heard of before.’

        ‘My dear fellohe sun.’

        Of course t’s a favourite saying of old Porteous’s.    ence of anytell    anyt’s    exactly tells you t te, or Myae, or ried to explain to    I’d felt uring and time t’s ing, but    listen. Merely repeated t t of t some Greek tyrant ba tainly migler’s ther.

        t    on for a bit. All day I’d been ing to talk to somebody about t’s funny. I’m not a fool, but I’m not a    normal times I dos t you    expect a middle-aged seven- pound-a-o    I’ve enougo see t to is being sa ts. I    feel it ’s ing and I    see ter- polid telling you o t even exceptional in t I meet every t. A ory till it’s running out of    eve tler matters. Refuses to believe t fig    doeser muco s—    see s.    intelligent persoion to sucler and Stalin    someteous calls ‘ternal verities’    pass a tly as ivated Oxford blokes roll up and doudies full of books, quoting Latin tags and smoking good tobacco out of jars s of arms on t alking to    more c of toed off, as it alo t    o poetry. Finally old Porteous drags anot of t’s ‘Ode to a Nig ).

        So far as I’m ed a little poes a long    it’s a curious fact t I rateous reading it aloud. tion t    t, of course—used to reading to classes of boys.    somettle jets of smoke ing out, and    it moves    knory is or ’s supposed to do. I imagi    on some people like music    actually listen, t’s to say I don’t take in t sometimes t brings a kind of peaceful feeling into my mind. On t. But someonig didn’t     felt t try!    is it? Just a voice, a bit of an eddy in t use    be against mae-guns?

        I c ts of Latin and Greek and poetry. And suddenly I remembered t almost t time I    t to t—t about magic casements, or somet struck me. . All people like t are dead.

        It struck me t per of t are dead. e say t a man’s dead ops and not before. It seems a bit arbitrary. After all, parts of your body don’t stop ake in a neeous is like t. onderfully learned, aste—but    capable of c says ts over and ain. t of people like t. Dead minds, stopped inside. Just keep moving backtle track, getting fainter all time, like gs.

        Old Porteous’s mind, I t, probably stopped    about time of t’s a gly t nearly all t people, t    to go round smas. t, but topped. t defend t o t see it, even    England    grasp t it’s just a left- over, a tiny er t to     tern Europe, treamlined men s? traot long before tc people are paralysed. Dead men and live gorillas. Doesn’t seem to be anytween.

        I cleared out about er, ely failed to vince old Porteous t ler matters. I ill ts as I s. trains opped running. teeto ter in t into my pyjamas, and prised o t ’s funny, tremendous gloom t sometimes gets e at nig t moment tiny of Europe seemed to me more important t and to do tomorro plain foolis t move out of my mind. Still ts and ttling. t the hell a chap like me should care.
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