At the end of my appearance yesterday at Blackwell’s, in Charing Cross Road, someone gave me a beautiful copy of his book called Netherwood, about the final years of Aleister Crowley’s life here in Hastings. In the general confusion after the talk I neglected to note his name, but I assumed it would be inside the book so I could contact him later and say thanks. However, Crowley-like, the information is a bit diffuse. (Byline: “A Gentleman of Hastings”.) Please make contact with me, so I can communicate with you direct?
One of those Crowley coincidences must have been going on. Because our house is currently more or less uninhabitable (two rooms with the floors up, and builders and their equipment everywhere) we are taking many of our meals at a pub called the Robert de Mortain. This large building on The Ridge is just about the only remnant of the Netherwood estate, which was Crowley’s last home. The main house and grounds are now something called Netherwood Close, and covered with the mass-built houses of Mr Wimpy or Mr Barratt.
Thanks to all who turned out in yesterday’s sometimes foul weather to go Blackwell’s. It was great to see so many people there, and I was really sorry the thing had to end so suddenly. I would have liked the chance to chat more informally at the end. Now back to the mundane realities of Hastings.