Friday 4th November 1938

It seemed like a “no order” day until I returned to Eastwoodbury lat in the afternoon. However, there was a 3 gallon order waiting from Darby’s of Wickford – sent on to me by Gulliver Francis (CHA) who works there. I then heard an extension was being built onto the Eastwood Church Hall and called there. The Vicar was superintending the job himself. I took a 2 gallon order, with the promise of several more to come! So it was a fairly good day and I called for Lois in the evening, feeling quite happy.

Yet – Oh hell! – somehow we were just the opposite of au fait and quarrelled again.
Drove viciously to the old disused road near Chelmsford and there we sat in the car, arguing and trying to make it up at the same time. Eventually we did. The troubles often arise 'cos she’s a sociable sort of person and I’m not (I like to have her to myself instead of being with a crowd of people, making conversation). (That old, mocking tune:- “We talk about - the weather; The moon or the stars above; Just making conversation, When we ought to be making love”.)

Eventually, Lord knows how or why, we made some fatuous arrangement to be frightfully gay and sociable and shallow – both of us – for one month. And “cut out” the “tommyrot” The “tommyrot” to be cut out means, incredibly, such things as Angel, Milady, Mio, love-kisses, dreams, poetry, beautiful music… “Is the tommyrot necessary to you?” she asked. “Yes.” Still, it’s going to be cut out, just for a month. The depths of fatuity have now been reached!

We were in each others arms. She whispered, “In this lane, Love was put to sleep on November the fourth.” Soon after she made some suitable brittle remark, adding loudly, “In case you don’t know, I’ve started!” “Oh have you?” I said, “Well now, hold that damn choke out, whilst I crank up the engine”.

So we drove home. She led the new way, chatting gaily about nothing. I responded.
Our lips met faintly when we parted. A duty kiss.