Day Hundred and Ninety-four


De Sadorn, pajerdegves mis Gorefan.
Saturday, 14th July.
Na wrüga vy gonis et o lowarth vy hedhyw. Na wrüga vy gwil whel veth. Me eth dhe Falmeth ha sedha e’n lowarth o hòthmans gen scriforyon erel. Nei a redyas whedhlow ha gwersyow an eyl dh'y gila.  Thera lies wharth ha nei a dhabras croust gen sevy ha dehen. Na wrüga nei mires orth an peldroos na tennis. Cloudys a  dheuth gen glawednow – rag hedna e veu res dhen dhe blegya emann. Pres veu dhe voas tre en neb cas. An howl a spladnas arta pa wrüga vy hedhas Truru.    
I did not work in my garden today. I did no work at all. I went to Falmouth and sat in my friends’ garden with other writers. We read stories and poems to each other. There were many laughs and we ate a picnic with strawberries and cream. We did not watch (or talk about) the football nor tennis. Clouds came with drops of rain – so we had to pack up. It was time to go home anyway. The sun was shining again when I reached Truro.

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