| [00:08.31] |
Gazing quite vacantly into space one day |
| [00:11.82] |
sitting up in my bed surrounded by |
| [00:14.25] |
a few Sunday papers and their colour supplements |
| [00:17.43] |
all of them superficially interesting |
| [00:20.43] |
happily unaware that somewhere somebody was aware |
| [00:23.79] |
that somewhere somebody was awake and well |
| [00:27.78] |
undisturbed |
| [00:41.73] |
living on |
| [00:42.09] |
Glancing quite speedily through assortments |
| [00:44.91] |
of horrible illustrations of atrocities |
| [00:48.96] |
and apologies of editors but they felt |
| [00:51.09] |
it was necessary for people to see the pictures |
| [00:54.87] |
on no account were they attempting |
| [00:56.94] |
to boost their paper's circulations |
| [01:01.47] |
I felt a wave |
| [01:01.74] |
closed my eyes |
| [01:03.54] |
which was worse |
| [03:05.31] |
Nevertheless I was I suppose |
| [03:06.69] |
quite at ease at home with my food |
| [03:08.82] |
brought up at intervals to my bed |
| [03:10.92] |
with all the sympathy I could want |
| [03:13.05] |
and with all the time in the world |
| [03:15.21] |
to write thank-you letters to all the people |
| [03:18.09] |
kind enough to send Christmas presents |
| [03:20.31] |
when they knew I was |
| [03:21.03] |
really very |
| [03:21.72] |
insignificant |
