Friday 19th March 1937

Farewell to the Southend digs. The whole family came to the door with us. No. 4 was homely but squalid; I hated to wake up in the mornings, to see dingy furniture, ancient curtains and in the grate the ashes of last nights fire.

Took the kit to Canvey. Very low, marshy land. When nearly at the bungalow, the car got stuck in the mud and it took over half an hours strenuous labour to get her free. Eventually however, we reached “Ashburton”. We chose our respective bedrooms and I stowed my belongings in their appropriate places.

A few ironmongers calls, then the road home. I alighted at Tottenham Court Road, had a good wash and brush up, put my bags in a cloakroom and went to Schmidts. Black Sheep Dinner. Present; Pepita, Gwyn, Lucien and John.

After the meal we went to the Fitzroy to drink John’s health (he was 21 this week).
The Fitzroy was packed and there was a slight air of wickedness this time. (By repute one of the three most immoral pubs in England. The other two are The Running Horse and The White Cross at Richmond.

The party dispersed at Piccadilly. I took Gwyn to Victoria by taxi and kissed her on the way. First time this year!