-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Уиндем
-
- День триффидов
-
- Стр. 187/223
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Well
,
maybe
some
things
haven
’
t
turned
out
so
badly
,
"
she
said
,
smiling
.
From
then
on
I
kept
a
journal
.
It
is
a
mixture
of
diary
,
stock
list
,
and
commonplace
book
.
In
it
there
are
notes
of
the
places
to
which
my
expeditions
took
me
,
particulars
of
the
supplies
collected
,
estimates
of
quantities
available
,
observations
on
the
states
of
the
premises
,
with
memos
on
which
should
be
cleared
first
to
avoid
deterioration
.
Foodstuffs
,
fuel
,
and
seed
were
constant
objects
of
search
,
but
by
no
means
the
only
ones
.
There
are
entries
detailing
loads
of
clothing
,
tools
,
household
linen
,
harness
,
kitchenware
,
loads
of
stakes
,
and
wire
,
wire
,
and
more
wire
,
also
hooks
.
I
can
see
there
that
within
a
week
of
my
return
from
Tynsham
I
had
started
on
the
work
of
erecting
a
wire
fence
to
keep
the
triffids
out
.
Already
we
had
barriers
to
hold
them
away
from
the
garden
and
the
immediate
neighborhood
of
the
house
.
Now
I
began
a
more
ambitious
plan
of
making
some
hundred
acres
or
so
free
from
them
.
It
involved
a
stout
wire
fence
which
took
advantage
of
the
natural
features
and
standing
barriers
,
and
,
inside
it
,
a
lighter
fence
to
prevent
either
the
stock
or
ourselves
from
coming
inadvertently
within
sting
range
of
the
main
fence
.
It
was
a
heavy
,
tedious
job
which
took
me
a
number
of
months
to
complete
.
At
the
same
time
I
was
endeavoring
to
learn
the
A
B
C
of
farming
.
It
is
not
the
kind
of
thing
that
is
easily
learned
from
books
.
For
one
thing
,
it
has
never
occurred
to
any
writer
on
the
subject
that
any
potential
farmer
could
be
starting
from
absolute
zero
.
I
found
,
therefore
,
that
all
works
started
,
as
it
were
,
in
the
middle
,
taking
for
granted
both
a
basis
and
a
vocabulary
that
I
did
not
have
.
My
specialized
biological
knowledge
was
all
but
useless
to
me
in
the
face
of
practical
problems
.
Much
of
the
theory
called
for
materials
and
substances
which
were
either
unavailable
to
me
or
unrecognizable
by
inc
if
I
could
find
them
.
I
began
to
see
quite
soon
that
by
the
time
I
had
dismissed
the
things
that
would
shortly
be
unprocurable
,
such
as
chemical
fertilizers
,
imported
feeding
stuffs
,
and
all
but
the
simpler
kinds
of
machinery
,
there
was
going
to
be
much
expenditure
of
sweat
for
problematical
returns
.
Nor
is
book
-
installed
knowledge
of
horse
management
,
daisy
work
,
or
slaughterhouse
procedure
by
any
means
an
adequate
groundwork
for
these
arts
.
There
are
so
many
points
where
one
cannot
break
off
to
consult
the
relevant
chapter
.
Moreover
,
the
realities
persistently
present
baffling
dissimilarities
from
the
simplicities
of
print
.
Luckily
there
was
plenty
of
time
to
make
mistakes
,
and
to
learn
from
them
.
The
knowledge
that
several
years
could
pass
before
we
should
be
thrown
anywhere
near
on
our
own
resources
saved
us
from
desperation
over
our
disappointments
.
There
was
the
reassuring
thought
,
too
,
that
by
living
on
preserved
stores
we
were
being
quite
provident
reaUy
in
preventing
them
from
being
wasted
.
For
safety
’
s
sake
I
let
a
whole
year
pass
before
I
went
to
London
again
.
It
was
the
most
profitable
area
for
my
forays
,
but
it
was
the
most
depressing
.
The
place
still
contrived
to
give
the
impression
that
a
touch
of
a
magic
wand
would
bring
it
awake
again
,
though
many
of
the
vehicles
in
the
streets
were
beginning
to
turn
rusty
.
A
year
later
the
change
was
more
noticeable
.
Large
patches
of
plaster
detached
from
house
fronts
had
begun
to
litter
the
sidewalks
.
Dislodged
tiles
and
chimney
pots
could
be
found
in
the
streets
.
Grass
and
weeds
had
a
good
hold
in
the
gutters
and
were
choking
the
drains
.
Leaves
had
blocked
downspoutings
so
that
more
grass
,
and
even
small
bushes
,
grew
in
cracks
and
in
the
silt
in
the
roof
gutterings
.
Almost
every
building
was
beginning
to
wear
a
green
wig
beneath
which
its
roofs
would
damply
rot
.
Through
many
a
window
one
had
glimpses
of
fallen
ceilings
,
curves
of
peeling
paper
,
and
walls
glistening
with
damp
.
The
gardens
of
the
parks
and
squares
were
wildernesses
creeping
out
across
the
bordering
streets
.
Growing
things
seemed
,
indeed
,
to
press
out
everywhere
,
rooting
in
the
crevices
between
the
paving
stones
,
springing
from
cracks
in
concrete
,
finding
lodgments
even
in
the
seats
of
the
abandoned
cars
.
On
all
sides
they
were
incroaching
to
repossess
themselves
of
the
arid
spaces
that
man
had
created
.
And
,
curiously
,
as
the
living
Things
increasingly
took
charge
,
the
effect
of
the
place
became
less
oppressive
.
As
it
passed
beyond
the
scope
of
any
magic
wand
,
most
of
the
ghosts
were
going
with
it
,
withdrawing
slowly
into
history
.
Once
—
not
that
year
,
not
the
next
,
but
later
on
—
I
stood
in
Piccadilly
Circus
again
,
looking
round
at
the
desolation
and
trying
to
re
-
create
in
my
mind
’
s
eye
the
crowds
that
once
swarmed
there
.
I
could
no
longer
do
it
.
Even
in
my
memory
they
lacked
reality
.
There
was
no
tincture
of
them
now
.
They
had
become
as
much
a
back
cloth
of
history
as
the
audiences
in
the
Roman
Colosseum
or
the
army
of
the
Assyrians
,
and
,
somehow
,
just
as
far
removed
from
me
.
The
nostalgia
that
crept
over
me
sometimes
in
the
quiet
bours
was
able
to
move
me
to
more
regret
than
the
crumbling
scene
itself
.
When
I
was
by
myself
in
the
country
I
could
recall
the
pleasantness
of
the
former
life
:
among
the
scabrous
,
slowly
perishing
buildings
I
seemed
able
to
recall
only
the
muddle
,
the
frustration
,
the
unaimed
drive
,
the
all
-
pervading
clangor
of
empty
vessels
,
and
I
became
uncertain
how
much
we
bad
lost
.
.
.
