Page 6 of 6

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'I am trying to, but you continually interrupt with unhelpful exclamations. It was midnight and Wordsworth and I had gone to bed. Luckily I was wearing my best nightdress. They rang the bell down below and told us through the microphone that they were police officers and had a warrant to search the flat. "What for?" I asked. Do you know, for a moment I thought it might be something racial. There are so many rules now for races and against races that you don't know where you stand.'

'Are you sure they were police officers?'

'Of course I asked to see their warrant, but do you know what a warrant looks like? For all I know it might have been a reader's ticket to the British Museum library. I let them in, though, because they were polite, and one of them, the one in uniform, was tall and good-looking. They were rather surprised by Wordsworth--or perhaps it was the colour of his pyjamas. They said, "Is this your husband, ma'm?" I said, "No, this is Wordsworth." The name seemed to ring a bell with one of them--the young man in uniform--who kept on glancing at him surreptitiously, as though he were trying to remember.'

'But what were they looking for?'

(This excerpt from Travels with My Aunt ends near the top of page 25.)

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