Friday 15th February 1935

Hail to the new Tangle approaching in the distance! I’ll give this one a different name, for the sake of change and call it the Combat.

Combat! Applicable enough. A desperate fight to make both ends meet and yet enjoy life!

Called at Mr Beach’s, in the evening of a rough, windy day. Quietness by his family’s fireside…

As Thorpe Church clock struck ten I was going through the lytch gate. Eerie and pleasant, there. Silent, significant gravestones; the dark tower and the rough wind.

At periods a restless yearning for adventure comes to me. A desire to go and seek “pastures new”. Wanderlust. Adventure lust. That mood is on me now. If only I could give way to it! Were I always to obey that reckless impulse, where would it lead me – happiness or misery, success or failure? If only we knew! However I always fight it down. Have to. To “go into the dark” would make many people who love me unhappy. Also there is the responsibility to those who set me on the ladder of everyday ambition. “stick to the job you have been given…” (The last phrase rankles; it shouldn’t).