25 November 1935 – 1 December 1935

Too many specimen days—so I can’t write. Yet, heaven help me, have a feeling that I’ve reached the no man’s land that I’m after; and can pass from outer to inner and inhabit eternity. A queer very happy free feeling, such as I’ve not had at the finish of any other book. And this too is a prodigious long one. So what does it mean? Another balk this morning; can’t get the start off of the last chapter right. What’s wrong I don’t know. But I needn’t hurry. And the main thing is to let ideas blow easily; and come softly pouring. And not to be too emphatic. Of course to step straight into the middle of a new character is difficult: North: and I’m a little exacerbated; meant to have a quiet week, and here’s Nelly C. and Nan Hudson both asking to come; and will I ring up; and Nan has a Turkish friend. But I will not be rushed. No.