Tuesday 12th December 1933

Evening alone at digs. I sat in a cosy armchair, a sleepy book on my knee, well equipped smoking table at my elbow. Read until I became too lazy. Smoked until even that was too much of an effort. At last I turned out the light, lay back in my chair, watched the flickering fire, and dreamed. Presently Harvey came; we sat there in the firelight, talking sleepily. What a great blessing is… a cosy armchair!