Monday 22nd January 1934

A grim winter’s day. Dense, chill fog in the morning, which cleared later. Until 11 0’clock only one fire was going in the making shop. The pressure pipes of the rest were frozen. Worked until 6 p.m. although there was little to do at that time. Smoked a few cigarettes, without pleasure.

After tea, the fire at digs was not properly ablaze, there was no decent music on the wireless, and I was cold and miserable. Forge House to spend more money I could not afford. The man I know at the bar was not there; a large girl was in his place. There were no interesting people, only a few gawky village youths playing darts.

Feel 50 per cent fit as I sit here against the fire (it’s burning now!) Winter!
I declare war on ill health, mental and physical, for a week. Will give healthy habits and self-discipline a chance until next Saturday. If the effect is good I may consider an extension of aforesaid campaign. I do not make this statement boldly, like a clarion call to fitness, but dully, listlessly. My head does not ache but feels – thick, like a fog.