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CIGARETTES (1946) CONFESSIONS OF A BOOK REVIEWER (1946) DECLINE OF THE ENGLISH MURDER (1946) HOW THE POOR DIE (1946) JAMES BURNHAM AND THE MANAGERIAL REVOLUTION (1946) PLEASURE SPOTS (1946) POLITICS AND THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE (1946) POLITICS VS.LITERATURE: AN EXAMINATION OF GULLIVER’S TRAVELS (1946) RIDING DOWN FROM BANGOR (1946) SOME THOUGHTS ON THE COMMON TOAD (1946) THE PREVENTION OF LITERATURE (1946) WHY I WRITE (1946) LEAR, TOLSTOY AND THE FOOL (1947) SUCH, SUCH WERE THE JOYS (1947) WRITERS AND LEVIATHAN (1948) REFLECTIONS ON GANDHI (1949) It was late-afternoon.When we had bathed our own clothes were taken away from us, and we were dressed in the workhouse shirts, grey cotton things like nightshirts, reaching to the middle of the thigh.Then we were sent into the dining-room, where supper was set out on the deal tables.
It was a gloomy, chilly, limewashed place, consisting only of a bathroom and dining-room and about a hundred narrow stone cells.
The cells measured eight feet by five, and, had no lighting apparatus except a tiny, barred window high up in the wall, and a spyhole in the door.
There were no bugs, and we had bedsteads and straw palliasses, rare luxuries both.
Each of us had three minutes in which to bathe himself.
Six greasy, slippery roller towels had to serve for the lot of us.