Back in November, you will recall, we had a brief look at George Orwell’s diary and its – at times – exclusive concentration on egg-counting. I have not seen fit to keep you abreast of the daily totals, confident as I am that you are equally fascinated by this egg business, and thus have added a check of the online diary to your daily routine. However, the latest seventy-year-old entry is somewhat alarming, so I thought I should draw your attention to it.
26-28.12.38 Have been ill. Not certain about number of eggs, but about 9.
Not certain? Get a grip, George, get a grip!
I think these diary entires are recipes. The egg is a very versatile ingredient.
Mr. Key, Mr. Key…
Have pity on the man…
He was plainly egg-bound and in need of some form of vigorous laxative concoction…
(Probably involving exotic herbs and gravel in it’s composition…)
O.S.M.
I think the sentences from this entry must be written in the wrong order.
It should probably read: “Not certain about number of eggs, but about 9. Have been ill”