28 November 1927 – 4 December 1927

A hurried note about the lunch party, L. dining at the Cranium. An art of light talk; about people. Bogey Harris; Maurice Baring. B. H. “knows” everyone: that is no one. Freddy Fossle? Oh yes I know him; knows Lady so-and-so. Knows everyone: can’t admit to not knowing. A polished, burnished diner out—Roman Catholic. In the middle M. Baring says: “But Lady B. died this morning.” Sibyl says: “Say that again.” “But R. M. was lunching with her yesterday,” says Bogey. “Well it’s in the papers she’s dead,” says M. B. Sibyl says: “But she was quite young. Lord Ivor asked me to meet the young man his daughter’s to marry.” “I know Lord Ivor,” says, or would say, Bogey. “Well it’s odd,” says Sibyl, giving up the attempt to wrestle with the death of the young at a lunch party. So on to wigs: “Lady Charlie used to have hers curled by a sailor on deck before she got up,” says Bogey. “Oh, I’ve known her all my life. Went yachting with them. Lady . . . eyebrows fell into the soup. Sir John Cook was so fat they had to hike him up. Once he got out of bed in the middle of the night and fell on the floor, where he lay 5 hours—couldn’t move. B. M. sent me a pear by the waiter with a long letter.” Talk of houses and periods. All very smooth and surface talk; depends on knowing people; not on saying anything interesting. Bogey’s cheeks are polished daily.