Mr. Bearcy accompanied me to the hospital today while I got my IV iron. He met the nurses there and we declined a piece of cake.
We were planning a jaunt through Harvard Yard for after that, but it started to rain. We soldiered on. Even though we didn’t bring any sweaters and it got a bit cool. And one of us was wearing flip flops. (Hint: It was not Mr. Bearcy. He doesn’t like the thong that goes between your claws.)
We walked through Radcliffe Yard instead. (Mr. Bearcy agrees with me that Radcliffe Yard is far nicer. It has a hidden garden and lovely fountain.) They’ve renovated the grounds a bit and are having a public art competition. We sort of got the Admissions building and Schlesinger Library in one photo.
He told me William used to occasionally go over to LA Burdick and get a dark hot chocolate. He’d sit in Radcliffe Yard and contemplate the meaning of life. Mr. Bearcy confided in me that he wished William had read less Jean-Paul Sartre. He said, “Even William’s brief fascination with Rimbaud was better than that. What a downer.”
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to hold a small bear, an umbrella, and a camera in the rain while trying to take photos and not get your laptop in your shoulder bag wet—but I don’t recommend it.
I let Wooster cat sit with Mr. Bearcy for a moment, but the cat immediately tried to groom him. Mr. Bearcy was most offended and is now safely out of Bertie’s reach.