Free The Chalk Giants by Keith Roberts Page B

climbing bears.
    Remember her lying on bed. Afternoon sun on blinds. Drenching light, green-gold. Remember tumbled blankets, lovely planes of body. Thrust of hip, knotted sheet pulled between thighs. Lorelei, or Jennifer. Should have painted her. But am not Picasso. Can’t paint tears.
    Could have had her. But take her once and spatial relationships destroyed. Vital to preserve image of castle, china swan. Sooner flog bishop.
    Remembering flat in Cheltenham. Tried to work there but was stifled. Relationship between creativity and fucking. Vicky understood latter but couldn’t follow former any farther than the rest. Perhaps procreation a major art form. In which case all painting frustrated sex.
    Definition of philosophy. Pastime unfitted for grown men.
    Remember rage at refusal to seek divorce. Think she used to go up to Town to meet hubby. Handsome allowance; her reluctance understandable. Her coming down here bad luck on both of us. But also understandable. Was bound to be Army or Church. For aye to be in shady cloister mew’d.
    Tried to develop philosophy of shallowness. Greed, indifference, etc., wholly admirable, integrity the only crime. But new order would develop own integrity, therefore fail. Could never understand partial involvements. As Vicky. Emotion in cast iron frame. Passion can be trained like fruit tree.
    Potts a great creative artist. Firing of gun a major Surreal act. Quieter and cheaper to have simply pushed him off cliff.
    Have seen gun. Luger. Keeps it in sleeping bag. Spends hours cleaning, etc. Distinctive smell of miscible oil. Wonder what Leader said to make poor bastard flip. Can’t get up much feeling for Jones. One shitbag so much like the next.
    Can’t get up much feeling for anything. Remember discussion with Maggie. Overstocked attics, etc. Maybe right.
    Maggie an interesting woman. Life failed socially, had to fall back on intelligence. Liked her ideas on moral sense. Unfortunately only applicable at low culture levels. Table of Affinities end result of need to regulate birthrate, Holy Matrimony handy for generating virgins. Will maybe have her chance in next hundred years.
    No primary objection to lesbianism. Act only disgusting when participants ugly or fat. Coition between consenting beauty queens. Hold similar views on pederasty but don’t think I was believed. Hope she made Martine. Would like to have been fly on ceiling, shouting yippee.
    Martine a very moreish girl. Wouldn’t have minded conventional rummage myself. But didn’t try for her. From him that hath not, shall be taken away.
    Must be something in sea air. Remember identifying castle as lingam-yoni motif. Male pillar upholding sun-drenched cup. Had been reading programme notes on Parsifal. Tried a painting but didn’t think it worked out. Gave to Maggie for lounge. She liked it.
    Am no Symbolist. Also, Miro and Munch an infertile cross.
    Missing those afternoons. Would welcome views on current relationship with Vicky. Three times round a bit of a bloody joke.
    Quiet week, after bombs. Fished, brought up wood from beach. Pity he had to ditch the truck as well. Heard plane once, above mist. Droned round half the day. Wondered what reconnaissance was for. Found out later.
    Woke to noise of engines, grinding of tracks. Whole place shaking, wondered what in hell was going on.
    Debarking took three hours. Fog dense, could barely see lights of landing craft. Heavy tanks, one-twenty-millimetre turrets. Markings were a surprise. Each made thunderous turn on beach below farmhouse, shouldered off up into mist. Strange primal movement of tracked vehicles. Must have seen house; but fortunately has preserved deserted appearance.
    Seemed to have no infantry support. Lucky for us, unlucky for them.
    Firing started just before dawn. Cannonade sporadic at first then continuous, thundering through mist. Cliffs of amphitheatre ringing in dark. Last weird battle in the west.
    Don’t know where Potts took off to. Think he went to earth.