We spent a sweaty hour hauling the stuff upstairs, during the course of which he mentioned that he had been bitten by a snake and had spent two days in hospital until that morning. He also said that the truck really belonged to his mate ( same firm ) but that this mate had broken his back and was in Glasgow Royal Infirmary.
At noon, a letter arrived from Mother, listing the items she had sent ie a dinning table and four chairs; a small wardrobe and a tallboy chest of drawers; an iron frame bed and mattress; 2 easy chairs – an Edwardian fireside pair; a small carpet and two mats & curtains for all windows and many bookcases. The curtains are coarse weave and of a peasant design and look good in themselves, but, as yet, there is no colour scheme; in fact no overall unity. That’s for later.
The neighbours’ kids were camping out below my windows last night. They had pitched a couple of tents on the rough grass that grows between the iron railings and the stone wall that bounds the Water of Leith. In those soft childish voices there was no word of complaint about the hard, cold earth on which they were trying to sleep. They were, however, astir bright and early, playing pirates on a home made raft of packing cases. Sunday was chimed in by the Cathedral bells echoing down the narrow valley where Dean Village hides.