#thedrinker

And when I have finished crying, the sun is still outside my window, the cool fragrant curtains sway in the gentle breeze. Life is still here, young and smiling. You can begin again at any time, it only depends on you. A little table is standing by my bed, with a breakfast tray upon it. The coffee is keeping warm under a cosy, and now I begin to have breakfast. I bite into a roll. Ineffectively I chew over and over on the first tough mouthful; but the coffee has been made extra strong, gradually my appetite returns, and I enjoy all the little delicacies which Magda has considerately laid out on the tray: sharp anchovies, lovely fat liver sausage, and wonderful Cheshire cheese. Rarely have I eaten with such relish. I feel like a convalescent. Thankfully I greet the neat familiar objects which surround me, greet them like faithful old friends whom I have missed for a long time. Now I find a note from Magda on the bedside table. She tells me that she has just gone to the office for a few hours, she asks me to stay in bed, or at least in the house, till her return; the bath-water has been heated for me.