I came across some more old diary writings yesterday that had been ‘buried’ in an old box, and I nearly inadvertently threw the sheets away.
Well, I nearly deliberately threw them away after I had re-read them as it was personal accounts from my life I had written back in 1973, and which were no longer really applicable to events of 36 years later. I do not know what happened to the original diary, but I obviously still had it in 1977 as I had re-typed many of the hand-written pages on any available pieces of A4 paper. It was ‘funny’ finding these again and re-reading them suddenly ‘brought back to life’ events I had long since forgotten. It was like unexpectedly finding a part of your life in the present when you had forgotten that this had even existed.
I was aware, of course, that I had recorded such sequences; probably because they involved highly emotive circumstances – both good and bad – and I thought these important enough to commit to paper – at the time, at least. Finding these crumpled pages again, gave you an almost eerie feeling. Why, I wondered, had I only just re-discovered this sequence of events after I had just published my autobiography, as if I was being somehow ‘taunted’ for leaving them out. ‘Taunted’ by Fate, that is, if indeed it is the case. Yet perhaps it is the opposite, for if I had been meant to re-discover these pages (40 pages or so) it would have been before, and I would have almost certainly put these pages in.
But ‘no’, that book has already been published now – all 275 pages of it – and I have no intention of revising that Volume. I’m working on Volume 2 at the moment, which deals with other matters after the occurrence of this ‘lost cycle’ of events. No doubt I will be ‘nagged’ by some to include the full story later; but I’m not going to as it would be far too much work. But I can summarise the story here and maybe give one or two passages. I have changed the names of the people concerned: not out of any sense of ‘conscience’; but because I am dealing only with the effects of events upon myself (my attitudes and feelings to life) and do not intend to ‘re-vitalise’ their consequences to affect other people.
To summarise the ‘missing sequence’ (albeit briefly); in 1971 – in the course of my turbulent life – I met a girl (whom I shall call) called ‘Rebecca’. Stunningly beautiful with glistening shoulder length black hair and brown eyes that spoke their own distinct silent language, we began dating regularly and she regularly spent long weekends at my flat in Highgate. Here is how I described it . . .
“Initially, I used to see her frequently in a North London pub and something immediately attracted me to her. She was a girl of outstanding beauty with shoulder-length black hair and proud features which matched an almost ‘haughty’ expression. Superficially, this almost made her appear ‘cold’ but her eyes were soft and deep and suggested some underlying sensitivity that was not outwardly apparent. After a few weeks I had written a clumsy letter of introduction and before long we were dating regularly and spending weekends together.” In fact, she had a good job and would come on Friday evenings straight from work, then leave early again the following Monday.
Often too, we would meet in the week and go to a French restaurant in Muswell Hill which I remember was candle-lit and played soft folk songs from concealed speakers. The food was good and it was never ‘packed’ – which is certainly why we both liked it. I went on to write . . . “At first I had no qualms about this new-found friendship but viewed it as a refreshing change from the complex relationships that seemed to plague my life. For Rebecca was different and unlike most of my other friends and associates had no connection with magic or the occult. This provided an unexpected ‘sense of freedom’ and when we were together it was possible to temporarily forget the pressures and obligations of my ‘occult life-style’. She had some sort of ’soothing effect’ – like a drug – and I began to rely more and more on her presence. I needed her to help me forget; but the more I tried, the more old fears and memories came flooding back until I was torn between a compulsion of rejecting her, or of giving myself to her completely.
This was only a gradual process, but an increasing infatuation eventually overcame any desire I might have had to reject her. Rebecca was slowly becoming my life, although due to events in the past, I was incapable of understanding what was happening, or how my love for Alison was being over-shadowed by her significance. It wasn’t that the pain of Alison’s memory became any less acute; rather that it was ‘being lost’ amidst powerful urges that had taken precedence over everything else. The trouble was, that although she empathiased her love was real, it seemed impossible to show my real feelings and because of this I knew she doubted my intentions and thought I didn’t care. In away, she was right. But I was in the grip of memories far too powerful to have even attempted to explain this in normal everyday terms.”
It is a long story, but basically, we fell in love and things became even more complicated when she expressed a wish to get married. Yes, it was her suggestion. She said it didn’t matter who asked, because this would ‘seal’ our love together. As I wrote . . . “One day when arriving for her customary weekend visit, Rebecca was in a state of high excitement. She’d just seen a beautiful antique ring and wanted it as an engagement ring. I said I would get it for her, but some reason kept putting this off – almost as if I was scared to give such a concrete assurance. Why this was I didn’t know because by this time I’d already made up my mind to get married, but this time something was wrong, and because it wasn’t outwardly apparent, it was making me uneasy.
Maybe some strange force was warning me to confess before sealing our fate together, or a culmination of doubt and uncertainty was confusing my previous determination; whatever, I found myself seriously risking the possibility of prematurely destroying everything by telling her that I had children and that I was already married..”
On re-reading this after all this time, (and reading ahead to the parts I have not yet written here), it has occurred to me that perhaps it was fated, after all, that this sequence of events was not included in my book. Whilst I have nothing to hide, and all this happened a long time ago, I think my story (or the first part of it) has already been told in its entirety and perhaps did not require irrelevant details being added to its text. (Quite apart from which such events might not portray myself in a very ‘good light’!).
But as I’ve started this, I will nevertheless finish it to prevent any accusations that I have ‘anything to hide’. But it is too long here. So I will just title it “Untold Secrets – Part 1” and you will just have to wait a little for Part 2!
For the moment though, David
(From an unpublished manuscript by David Farrant).