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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