Wednesday 3rd February 1937
Town in the morning. Lunch at a snack bar in Waterloo Road; reached works soon after 2 p.m. A warm, sticky day. Better than that depressing, bleak weather, anyhow.
From Staines to Egham, I travelled in the same carriage as Audrey. She was exactly the same as in 1934! Vivacious, bubbling, cockney. And still pretty. There was something delightful about this chance meeting. We were both so frightfully pleased about it! A few minutes together; we could have talked for hours! “My dear,” she giggled, leaning forward excitedly, “I’m going to be married! How do you like my ring?” I remembered her greatest wish, which she had once told me, and said, “I hope you’ll be so happy that people will say it can’t last. Yet it will last!” Just like her, to phrase her greatest desire like that. Just like her, to be a fatalist and not expect it to come true. Just like life that it should come true. She believed she was not destined to be married.
However, as previously related, I got to the works soon after 2 p.m. and pleasant memories were soon forgotten again. Mr Val marched me into his office, told me to sit down. (I shut the door first, guessing the interview was not going to be one suitable for discussion in locum publicis.)
The Company is going to try a big sales experiment next month, at Southend-on-Sea. Extensive advertising, with the help of a “pep” and “push” agency. And I am to be the Southend representative. I was in the office for an hour and a half. Never known Mr Val so fatherly. (“It’s your chance, my boy…”) Hell of a responsibility too. The Company is going to run up a bill of £1000 for the scheme. But, how obviously Written the whole thing seems!
I thanked Mr Lever for a rise – at the psychological moment. The fated moment.
Evening: as I had a Waterloo return to use, I went up to the ship. Tea and a wash and V/S instruction until 8 o’clock.
From Staines to Egham, I travelled in the same carriage as Audrey. She was exactly the same as in 1934! Vivacious, bubbling, cockney. And still pretty. There was something delightful about this chance meeting. We were both so frightfully pleased about it! A few minutes together; we could have talked for hours! “My dear,” she giggled, leaning forward excitedly, “I’m going to be married! How do you like my ring?” I remembered her greatest wish, which she had once told me, and said, “I hope you’ll be so happy that people will say it can’t last. Yet it will last!” Just like her, to phrase her greatest desire like that. Just like her, to be a fatalist and not expect it to come true. Just like life that it should come true. She believed she was not destined to be married.
However, as previously related, I got to the works soon after 2 p.m. and pleasant memories were soon forgotten again. Mr Val marched me into his office, told me to sit down. (I shut the door first, guessing the interview was not going to be one suitable for discussion in locum publicis.)
The Company is going to try a big sales experiment next month, at Southend-on-Sea. Extensive advertising, with the help of a “pep” and “push” agency. And I am to be the Southend representative. I was in the office for an hour and a half. Never known Mr Val so fatherly. (“It’s your chance, my boy…”) Hell of a responsibility too. The Company is going to run up a bill of £1000 for the scheme. But, how obviously Written the whole thing seems!
I thanked Mr Lever for a rise – at the psychological moment. The fated moment.
Evening: as I had a Waterloo return to use, I went up to the ship. Tea and a wash and V/S instruction until 8 o’clock.
posted by Paul Wilson at 7:00 pm
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