T. E. Lawrence to Flight Lieutenant H. Norrington

Clouds Hill,
Moreton,
Dorset

20. IV. 35.

Dear N.,

In retirement there are no ranks... we are all 'have-beens' together: however you will not come to it for some years. For myself, I prefer work.

The cottage has become quiet, now: except for a beastly tit, which flutters up and down one window-pane for six hours a day. First I thought he was a bird-pressman, trying to get a story: then a narcissist, admiring his figure in the glass. Now I think he is just mad, and know him to be a nuisance. If he goes on into next week I shall open the window some day and wring his silly neck.

My time passes between swearing at him, cutting brushwood, and inventing odd jobs. No letter-writing any more, except under extreme need, and no duty. A queer lapse into uselessness, after that long-drawn series of jobs that made up my life.

Please remember me to Lorna and to Mrs N. I went to Hythe lately and scrounged a lot more screws. There was a dinghy for test, tell her!

On Wednesday I hope to meet B.G. there.

Bother that bird: he taps too regularly, and distracts me.

Yours ever

T.E.S.