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Updated July 2012

T. E. Lawrence to Sydney Cockerell

Ozone Hotel,

Nov. 15th, 1934

No, I cannot week-end anywhere for the rest of this year. I sit in Bridlington day-long in a great garage, tending eleven R.A.F. boats in their annual overhaul. My motor-bike-and-means- of-mobility rusts (I pray not, yet fear so) in Dorsetshire, in the garage behind my cottage.           

March next, all this ends. The R.A.F. leaves me behind in its march towards the future. I retire to cottage, aforesaid, and do nothing ever after.

No, Miss Stark is post-1922, which was the date I changed lives last; so I have not seen her books or heard of her.1 It must be nearly 30 years since I wandered up the then inaccessible valleys of the Ismailiyeh hills in Syria, and looked for the vestiges of where the (Syria) Old Man of the Mountain had lived. Two remote and lovely sites he had chosen, for his fortresses, and I was their first Frank visitor, probably, since the Crusades. Not nice, being such a back-number and antiquity.

I should like to visit Cambridge once more, and shall perhaps venture, after the Great Change: and then I shall search the FitzW. for you, and console myself with your collected pictures, if you are away.

Which reminds me that we must conspire some day to get rid of that John head of myself which was or is amongst the richer loot. If you are still there, we will settle its hash.

Yours ever

T. E. Shaw

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Source: SCC 371
Checked: jw/
Last revised: 1 January 2006


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