Three eggs.
8.1.39.
January 8, 2009 by orwelldiariesVILLA SIMONT, 8.1.39
January 8, 2009 by orwelldiariesCost of sending four rather heavy parcels to England, about Frs. 400. Two others not quite so heavy about Frs. 100 the two. The red tape in post offices here even worse than in France. The two which E. and I dispatched personally took over two hours. First about half an hour’s wait to get a place at the counter. This is not due to Xmas, as it is always much the same. The endless filling up of forms and the usual search by the officials through large books to find out which forms should be used. Then the usual complaint that the parcels were insufficiently secure. One had not thick enough string, the other which was enveloped in cloth had to be sewn up. Then a complaint because the parcels were not sealed. Fresh journey to buy sealing wax. This kind of thing seems inseparable from French post offices. Notice that most of the minor officials here, of the type who in India would be Indians, are French. Eg. all the post-office clerks and the clerks in the other offices, and even most of the traffic policemen. Supply of native clerks evidently does not exist. Most Arabs who are in contact with Europeans speak a little French, but have not yet met an Arab whose French seemed to be perfect.
On Xmas eve there was a very heavy frost here, which did a good deal of damage. From the type of vegetation and what the Arabs say I do not think this can be usual. Notice, however, that oranges and lemons were quite unaffected by it.
The French here seem to take even less notice of Xmas than in France. They celebrate New Year. Arabs all acquainted with New Year and use it as a pretext for begging. There are said to be less tourists than usual this year.
People gathering lucerne draw it up with their hands instead of cutting with the sickle, thus saving an inch or two on each plant. The people in the little walled village near the house give the impression of owning their land communally, as they all turn out and do the same jobs, weeding, ploughing, etc., together.
Examined recently the grave of what was evidently a fairly rich man, in a mud enclosure. A concrete grave of the usual pattern, with a sort of little oven evidently for burnt offerings at the head. No name on the grave. On a tree over the grave various little charms, a sort of little leather purse. Inside it a bunch of wool and a paper with writing.
7.1.39.
January 7, 2009 by orwelldiariesThree eggs. There are now 3 hens broody. The pigeons are all right.
Yesterday saw some men fishing in the Oued Tensift. Miserable little fish about the size of sardines. The bait is a kind of small earthworm which is found in the mud beside the river.
Day before yesterday came on some men waiting with a she-camel which had fallen in the middle of the bridge over the Oued. It was apparently about to have a calf. Belly greatly swollen up, sexual organs bleeding slightly. The creature lay on its side, its head in the air, sniffing, with a kind of air of astonishment, but evidently not in pain. An hour or so later just the same. Today passed that way. Big pool of blood on the ground, & the marks of something bloody being dragged away. Calf probably born dead.
Clear, very fine, cold in the shade, warm in the sun. We now have a hot water bottle every night, & 3 blankets & a rug on the bed.
6.1.39.
January 6, 2009 by orwelldiariesThree eggs.
5.1.39.
January 5, 2009 by orwelldiariesTwo eggs.
4.1.39
January 4, 2009 by orwelldiariesThree eggs.
Clear, fine & generally rather cold (wearing light undervest, cotton shirt, pullover, coat, light pants & grey flannel bags), & do not find this too much.
Night before last the cock pigeon, which was only just regaining its power of flight, disappeared, evidently destroyed by one of the Arabs’ dogs. Bought another yesterday (Frs. 6.). This one’s wings are all right. Put him for the night in the cage, in the morning found the hen outside. Opened the door & they flew off together.
3.1.39
January 3, 2009 by orwelldiariesThree eggs.
2.1.39
January 2, 2009 by orwelldiariesTwo eggs.
1.1.39
January 1, 2009 by orwelldiariesThree eggs.
The cock pigeon, which at first was rather sorry for himself, no doubt owning to having been confined in a cage & having had his wings bound, is better & trying to fly a little. The female at first courting him, walking around him & bowing.
Another dead donkey, with two dogs tearing its entrails out. The third I have seen. They never seem to bury them when they die.
The pepper trees, whose peppercorns were ripening about September, have now got a fresh crop on them. The nasturtiums which were nipped by the frost are mostly dead. Ditto the vegetable marrows & the foliage of the brinjals is all withered off.
Clear & fine, not particularly cold, nice sun & no wind.
E. saw four more storks.
The oranges etc., & even apparently the lemon blossom, not in the least damaged by the frost.
31.12.38
December 31, 2008 by orwelldiariesThree eggs (102 eggs since 26.10.38[1] , or nearly 12 a week).
[1]‘28’ written by mistake. Peter Davison