After all, it could easily have been understood that I was suggesting the

landlord's wife resembled a cockerel - an intention that had not remotely

entered my head at the time. This thought continued to torment me as I tried to

sleep, and I had half a mind to make an apology to the landlord this morning.

But his mood towards me as he served breakfast seemed perfectly cheerful and in

the end I decided to let the matter rest.

 

But this small episode is as good an illustration as any of the hazards of

uttering witticisms. By the very nature of a witticism, one is given very little

time to assess its various possible repercussions before one is called to give

voice to it, and one gravely risks uttering all manner of unsuitable things if

one has not first acquired the necessary skill and experience. There is no

reason to suppose this is not an area in which I will become proficient given

time and practice, but, such are the dangers, I have decided it best, for the

time being at least, not to attempt to discharge this duty in respect of Mr

Farraday until I have practised further.

 

In any case, I am sorry to report that what the local people had themselves

offered last night as a witticism of sorts - the prediction that I would not

have a good night owing to disturbances from below - proved only too true. The

landlord's wife did not actually shout, but one could hear her talking

incessantly both late into the night as she and her husband went about their

tasks, and again from very early this morning. I was quite prepared to forgive

the couple, however, for it was clear they were of diligent hard-working habits,

and the noise, I am sure, was all attributable to this fact. Besides, of course,