Joan Wyndham

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.

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