Tuesday 9th February 1937

Yesterday I rose at 6:30 and went to the works, wearing ancient grey bags, old tweed jacket, disreputable mac. Today (contrast!) I rose at 8 o’clock and went to Town by tube, about 9:30 wearing blue suit, RNVR scarf and tie, new mac, white gloves. A very idle day, with London office as my base.

Morning: Met Mr Reddell, our sales manager; Mr Percy Randell and Mr Robinson, our star traveller (aged 80). Mr Robinson took me to Bart’s Hospital, where the Clerk of Works showed me round. Then came home for lunch (two hours).

Afternoon: Visited St. Georges Hospital, conducted by the Steward. Went into a large woman’s ward here. Rather an ordeal – until I began to discuss the paint surface. In all wards, dozens of eyes watched our movements. A curious sensation: the listless eyes moved, but not the heads. Back to the office by 3:30. Sat gossiped and smoked until about 5 o’clock.

Mr Reddell, Baker and the typist...

Mr Reddell is a type I rather like. Heavily built. Ironical humour, clever, sensitive.
Baker: tall, about my own age. Decent, typical town office man. Had met him before.
The typist, also tall, wore ear rings; was chatty, languid and ga-ga.

Ambled along to the ship for tea and two drills. Buzzer exercises. Morse with earphones, a new experience.