Wednesday 4th March 1936

Christopher makes terrible noises as he toddles along the Causeway each day. Also very temperamental, he runs in first, second or third gear according to his mood of the moment.

Evening; Gwyn and I walked to Penton Hook. The island seemed rather bleak and water rushing through the weir made the deuce of a row.

Later, we sat by the fire (dying) and told stories.