Thursday 18th January 1934

Left work feeling “down”. Reason; I suspect that the Upper Ones at Paripans regard me as a being below them. Perhaps because of my comparatively shabby dress. Perhaps because I am not ex-public school. Or perhaps I am quite wrong about their attitude.

Anyhow, the evening cheered me, I was reckless. Spent all my spare cash which I had hoarded up for digs. Bought more tobacco, cigarettes and paper. Then TocH with two others, painting and talking cheerily. Left late, but recklessly, went into a roadside café to spend the rest of money on cakes.

Tough youths talking and smoking. Listened and grinned, not even trying to appear puritan when the stories become lewd, as they always do in such circles. It would be fine to be not class-bound, so independent that I could join in with anyone – upper, middle or lower. That is the attraction of writing – one is free. What a splendid dream! Must have another shot at “The Rope”. My hero is still asleep on the eve of his fatal holiday. Still reckless, I am going to have a cigarette before bed, though ‘tis nearly midnight. Also am listening to “Henry Hall and the BBC Dance Orchestra”.

From “The Dead”. The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And Sunset, and the colours of the earth.
These had seen movement, and heard music; human.
Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks.
All this is ended.

All these I have had. But they are not ended for me! Life is rather joyous, even in winter.