3 October 1938 – 9 October 1938

Another 10 minutes. I’m taking a frisk at P.H. at which I can only write for one hour. Like the Waves. I enjoy it intensely: head screwed up over Roger. A violent storm two days ago. No walking. Apples down. Electric light cut off. We used the four 6d. candlesticks bought at Woolworths. Dinner cooked, and smoked, on dining room fire. Men now staining boards. The room will be done actually this week. Politics now a mere “I told you so . . . You did. I didn’t.” I shall cease to read the papers. Sink at last into contemplation. Peace for our lifetime: why not try to believe it? Can’t make a push and go to S. Remy. Want to: don’t want to. Long for change: love reading Sévigné even by candlelight. Long for London and lights; long for vintage; long for complete solitude. All this discussed with L. walking to Piddinghoe yesterday.