Friday 8th December 1933

A slack day in the making house – nothing to make. With Bill in the Centrifuging room, preparing oil for lithos. The centrifuger is something like a cream separator and is driven by belting and shafting, which frightens me slightly. Easterly wind bought snow today – cold, hard flakes. Working in the stores. Pleasantly warm. We cleaned out a litho tank (1300 gallons) and I had to climb inside which pleased me.

Afternoon: Cleaning old paint tins until 4.30 when we could find nothing more to do. Stood in the dark centrifuging room, idly talking. Quiet; could hear the icy wind keening outside.

5 o’clock. Dashed across the yard to the bleak making house, washed, changed and went. After an economical week, I spent a good deal of my pay tonight. Toffees, chocolate, biscuits and a cup of tea at the coffee stall, nearby. Yes, that machinery today made me feel quite nervous. Also the store girls, whom I did not know. Have always been timid and afraid of most things. Am I yellow? I do not want to be. “Fear and be Slain” is perhaps a poor motto for me, because I am not fearless. Probably “Courage” would be a greater and clearer ideal. As I am naturally nervous and fearful, I should worship courage for that is the virtue I most need. Will write of “The Highest Gift” and of “Fear and be Slain”, then compose them.