6 September 1915 – 12 September 1915

My 26th birthday. In London again. Went straight to the Doctor and reported myself. I quite expected him to forbid the marriage as I could scarcely hobble to his house. To my amazement, he apparently made light of my paralysis, said it was a common accident to bruise the os coccyx, etc.

Am staying at ---- for a few days to rest and try to be better by that fateful 11th, when I am married. Later: My first experience of a Zeppelin raid. Bombs dropped only a quarter of a mile away and shrapnel from the guns fell on our roof. We got very pannicky and went into a neighbour's house, where we cowered down in our dressing-gowns in absolute darkness while bombs exploded and the dogs barked. I was scared out of my life and had a fit of uncontrollable trembling. Later we rang up ---- and ----, and thank Heavens both are safe. A great fire is burning in London, judging by the red glare. At midnight sat and drank sherry and smoked a cigar with Mr. ----, my braces depending from my trousers like a tail and shewing in spite of dressing-gown. Then went home and had some neat brandy to steady my heart. H---- arrived soon after midnight. A motor-omnibus in Whitechapel was blown to bits. Great scenes in the city.

Very nervy to-day. Hobbled down the road to see the damage done by the bombs.

A swingeing cold in the head thro' running about on the night of the raid. Too feeble to walk far, so Mrs. ---- went into the town for me and purchased my wedding-ring, which cost £2 5s. 0d.

This evening we walked thro' the Churchyard reading tombstone inscriptions. What a lot of men have had wives! I can't make out what has come over folk recently: the wit, wisdom and irony on the old tombstones have given place to maudlin sentiment and pious Bible references. Then on the anniversary of the death the custom among poorer classes is to publish such pathetic doggerel as the following--cuttings I have taken from time to time from the local newspaper in ----: "Her wish: "'Farewell dear brother, Mother, sisters, My life was passed in love for thee. Mourn not for me nor sorrow take But love my husband for my sake Until the call comes home to thee, Live thou in peace and harmony.'" Again: "A day of remembrance sad to recall But still in my heart he is loved best of all No matter how I think of him--his name I oft recall; There is nothing left to answer me but his photo on the wall." Or: "One year has passed since that sad day, When one we loved was called away. God took her home; it was His will, Forget her?--No, we never will." These piteous screeds fill me with loving-kindness and with contempt alternately in a pendulum-like rhythm. What is the truth about them? Is the grief of these people as mean and ridiculous as their rhymes? Or is it a pitiful inarticulateness? Or is it merely vulgar advertisement of their sorrow? Or does it signify a passionate intention never to forget?--or a fear of forgetting, the rhymes being used as a fillip to the memory? Or--most miserable of all--is it just a custom, and one followed in order to appear respectable in others' eyes? Are they poor souls? or contemptible fools?