Sunday
Breakfast in bed again. Lay in bed until after 11. Heard the band of the Home Guards as they
marched to inspection on the Meadows.
Spent most of the day writing,
and completed two episodes of a proposed “play” on the Observer Post, although
the thing could not possibly be presented on a stage. It does however lend itself particularly well
to being written in the form of dialogue and descriptive matter in between.
Had supper alone with Dora Biggam tonight,
while Ethel went off to her old dragon of a sister at the Braids. Could not bring myself to any serious talk,
so we listened to the radio instead, although reception was poor.
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