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etic mrs wheeler decided that the free teas the factories gave you didn’t quite equal the subscription。 then mrs wheeler scraped acquaintance with somebody who gave away free tickets for plays produced by some stage society or other。 i’ve known the three of them sit for hours listening to some highbrow play of which they didn’t even pretend to understand a word—couldn’t even tell you the name of the play afterwards—but they felt that they were getting something for nothing。 once they even took up spiritualism。 mrs wheeler had run across some down…and…out medium who was so desperate that he’d give seances for eighteenpence； so that the three of them could have a glimpse beyond the veil for a tanner a time。 i saw him once when he came to give a seance at our house。 he was a seedy…looking old devil and obviously in mortal terror of d。t。s。 he was so shaky that when he was taking his overcoat off in the hall he had a sort of spasm and a hank of butter…muslin dropped out of his trouser…leg。 i managed to shove it back to him before the women saw。 butter…muslin is what they make the ectoplasm with； so i’m told。 i suppose he was going on to another seance afterwards。 you don’t get manifestations for eighteen pence。 mrs wheeler’s biggest find of the last few years is the left book club。 i think it was in ‘36 that the news of the left book club got to west bletchley。 i joined it soon afterwards； and it’s almost the only time i can remember spending money without hilda protesting。 she can see some sense in buying a book when you’re getting it for a third of its proper price。 these women’s attitude is curious； really。 miss minns certainly had a try at reading one or two of the books； but this wouldn’t even have occurred to the other two。 they’ve never had any direct connexion with the left book club or any notion what it’s all about—in fact i believe at the beginning mrs wheeler thought it had something to do with books which had been left in railway carriages and were being sold off cheap。 but they do know that it means seven and sixpenny books for half a crown； and so they’re always saying that it’s ‘such a good idea’。 now and again the local left book club branch holds meetings and gets people down to speak； and mrs wheeler always takes the others along。 she’s a great one for public meetings of any kind； always provided that it’s indoors and admission free。 the three of them sit there like lumps of pudding。 they don’t know what the meeting’s about and they don’t care； but they’ve got a vague feeling； especially miss minns； that they’re improving their minds； and it isn’t costing them anything。
well； that’s hilda。 you see what she’s like。 take it by and large； i suppose she’s no worse than i am。 sometimes when we were first married i felt i’d like to strangle her； but later i got so that i didn’t care。 and then i got fat and settled down。 it must have been in 1930 that i got fat。 it happened so suddenly that it was as if a cannon ball had hit me and got stuck inside。 you know how it is。 one night you go to bed； still feeling more or less young； with an eye for the girls and so forth； and next morning you wake up in the full consciousness that you’re just a poor old fatty with nothing ahead of you this side the grave except sweating your guts out to buy boots for the kids。
and now it’s ‘38； and in every shipyard in the world they’re riveting up the battleships for another war； and a name i chanced to see on a poster had stirred up in me a whole lot of stuff which ought to have been buried god knows how many years ago。
/d/
PART Ⅲ…1
×××小×说×网
when i came home that evening i was still in doubt as to what i’d spend my seventeen quid on。
hilda said she was going to the left book club meeting。 it seemed that there was a chap ing down from london to lecture； though needless to say hilda didn’t know what the lecture was going to be about。 i told her i’d go with her。 in a general way i’m not much of a one for lectures； but the visions of war i’d had that morning； starting with the bomber flying over the train； had put me into a kind of thoughtful mood。 after the usual argument we got the kids to bed early and cleared off in time for the lecture； which was billed for eight o’clock。
it was a misty kind of evening； and the hall was cold and not too well lighted。 it’s a little wooden hall with a tin roof； the property of some nonconformist sect or other； and you can hire it for ten bob。 the usual crowd of fifteen or sixteen people had rolled up。 on the front of the platform there was a yellow placard announcing that the lecture was on ‘the menace of fascism’。 this didn’t altogether surprise me。 mr witchett； who acts as chairman of these meetings and who in private life is something in an architect’s office； was taking the lecturer round； introducing him to everyone as mr so…and…so （i forget his name） ‘the well…known anti…fascist’； very much as you might call somebody ‘the well…known pianist’。 the lecturer was a little chap of about forty； in a dark suit； with a bald head which he’d tried rather unsuccessfully to cover up with wisps of hair。
meetings of this kind never start on time。 there’s always a period of hanging about on the pretence that perhaps a few more people are going to turn up。 it was about twenty…five past eight when witchett tapped on the table and did his stuff。 witchett’s a mild… looking chap； with a pink； baby’s bottom kind of face that’s always covered in smiles。 i believe he’s secretary of the local liberal party； and he’s also on the parish council and acts as m。c。 at the magic lantern lectures for the mothers’ union。 he’s what you might call a born chairman。 when he tells you how delighted we all are to have mr so…and…so on the platform tonight； you can see that he believes it。 i never look at him without thinking that he’s probably a virgin。 the little lecturer took out a wad of notes； chiefly newspaper cuttings； and pinned them down with his glass of water。 then he gave a quick lick at his lips and began to shoot。
do you ever go to lectures； public meetings； and what…not？
when i go to one myself； there’s always a moment during the evening when i find myself thinking the same thought： why the hell are we doing this？ why is it that people will turn out on a winter night for this kind of thing？ i looked round the hall。 i was sitting in the back row。 i don’t ever remember going to any kind of public meeting when i didn’t sit in the back row if i could manage it。 hilda and the others had planked themselves in front； as usual。 it was rather a gloomy little hall。 you know the kind of place。 pitch…pine walls； corrugated iron roof； and enough draughts to make you want to keep your overcoat on。 the little knot of us were sitting in the light round the platform； with about thirty rows of empty chairs behind us。 and the seats of all the chairs were dusty。 on the platform behind the lecturer there was a huge square thing draped in dust…cloths which might have been an enormous coffin under a pall。 actually it was a piano。
at the beginning i wasn’t exactly listening。 the lecturer was rather a mean…looking little chap； but a good speaker。 white face； very mobile mouth； and the rather grating voice that they get from constant speaking。 of course he was pitching into hitler and the nazis。 i wasn’t particularly keen to hear what he was saying—get the same stuff in the news chronicle every morning—but his voice came across to me as a kind of burr…burr…burr； with now and again a phrase that struck out and caught my attention。
‘bestial atrocities。 。 。 。 hideous outbursts of sadism。 。 。 。 rubber truncheons。 。 。 。 concentration camps。 。 。 。 iniquitous persecution of the jews。 。 。 。 back to the dark ages。 。 。 。 european civilization。 。 。 。 act before it is too late。 。 。 。 indignation of all decent peoples。 。 。 。 alliance of the democratic nations。 。 。 。 firm stand。 。 。 。 defence of democracy。 。 。 。 democracy。 。 。 。 fascism。 。 。 。 democracy。 。 。 。 fascism。 。 。 。 democracy。 。 。 。’
you know the line of talk。 these chaps can churn it out by the hour。 just like a gramophone。 turn the handle； press the button； and it starts。 democracy； fascism