Saturday 5th December 1936

Nothing definite has yet emerged from the crisis: -

“Premier at Fort Belvedere.” “God Save the King!” “Tell us the facts, Mr Baldwin!” “The Nation insists on knowing the King’s full demands and conditions.”

For once, the wireless weather forecasts have proved correct. A zone of rough weather has gradually covered the British Isles and now, as predicted, has reached “South Eastern England”. A bitter NW wind, occasional showers of rain and sleet. These digs are central-heated. Alright in a way, but fires are more cheerful.

I guess I have got a cold coming. Feel as though there is something bloody well wrong, anyhow. Saturday afternoon shopping and haircut excursion. Called At Miss Donald’s for a cup of tea. Sat snugly, in her kitchen, by the fire. Candlelight.

Went to a party at the Beach's in the evening. Left there soon after 12 and trudged dismally home. Damn that vicious wind!