on pleasure bent again, with never a thought for what my poor family might suffer
Tomorrow I head through darkness and forecast rain, eastward, for a job interview. On Friday I shall depart in my own modest equipage in the direction of the Poet, whose birthday it will be, arriving, dog willing, at 6 in the afternoon. I hope to dine peacefully at Lillo's Trattoria, thence to the Poet's abode. I shall return home at midday Saturday for a modest luncheon with a fellow curator and perhaps we shall take a turn about the galleries.