Tuesday January 10th 1933

Again we finished the butter stock. Tomorrow with the new stock we’ll be beating stuff like concrete. Left early. Walked home and brought a small electric torch.

Nobody in at No.4 when I got home. Had a bath, then supper by the fire, clad in pyjamas and overcoat. Read a book of Oxford’s dreaming spires (Sinister Street) and the evening seemed long. The clock had stopped and the fire had gone out, when Barry’s arrival at 10.20 broke the spell. It seemed much later than that.