The occasional ache of something long lost – Leigh Fermor’s likening it to an old wound; more less healed, but can still give you gip on a bad day.
‘The loss of the journal still aches now and then like an old wound in bad weather.’
For a quote-mosaic review of another journal, not lost and much loved, see Dorothy Wordsworth.
Source: Patrick Leigh Fermor, A Time of Gifts: On foot to Constantinople: from the Hook of Holland to the Middle Danube (London: Penguin Books, 1977), p. 110
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