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Letter from Thomas MacGreevy to George Yeats. 9 March 1929.

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Ecole Normale
9th March, 1929

Dearest George

I expect you're beginning to think of packing up and making for home. The first taste of summer was to be had in Paris these last 3 days and I feel like rejoicing quietly after this most devastating of winters. God how cold it has been! I never felt anything like it. There were moments when I thought not that I'd die but that I had died! Thank the Lord its over. I suppose it wasn't so bad in Rapallo but it was bad enough on the Rivieria I believe. Things are much as usual here except that Norah Phibbs having been deserted by Geoffrey for a New York Ghetto poetess named Laura Riding now resident in London (with Robert Graves as [p.1 verso] No.1 lover and still in the house) has arrived here and is working away like a brick at Lhote's studio though very unhappy. This history between ourselves until it is definitely certain that there is no fixing it up. For myself— I have been told that the British Institute "has made other arrangements" for next year so my ambition to be a starving poet is probably being going to be realised for me. It was all very sweetly done. I was told I was too literary, too good for the students etc but the result is the same. This I have not told to anyone except Dolly for the time being, not to Alan etc. I don't really mind very much and I'll have my smaller debts all cleared off before the end which will be in July. I haven't yet made up my mind what to do or where to go. I have done no work of my own to speak of since the thing began but I'm not budging for Easter and hope to get a few things polished up even if I should not write anything new. We get a fortnight which as I don't lecture [p.2 recto] on Saturdays or Mondays means a whole 17 days to myself. I may have to Lunn for a day or two. With poverty before me again next winter I ought to keep them on my hands and make as much as I can out of them in the summer. Of course if nobody from Dublin wants the Ecole post I daresay I can have it for another year though it will be difficult to have to avow in the milieux universitaires that I have not been "assez universitaires" for the bloody British schoolmarms. On the other hand the Ecole is a much grander place in prestige. I'd rather go back to Dublin but a holiday out of it always means a sea voyage— ugh.

Tinche seemed blooming. I never saw him so well after a journey. Between us it was well enough— no explanations two little gents we were, "distant and faint" but all right. The Stephenses were here last week with some millionaire Sullivans from New York. I tried to get a picture by Picasso for Dublin from them. She was anti but I think he had a sneaking desire to pass me a Modigliani behind her back so I have hopes yet.

Dolche arrives in 3 weeks or so. Twill be a relief [p.1 recto] to have her. What with working at the B. I. and being dismissed from the B. I. and Norah and the Duncan and the devilish cold I've been feeling flat and I had a mild but enfeebling attack of flu which Thank Gawd is gone.

I hope you are both very well and that Anne & Michael write regularly!

My love to E. P. as to yourselves