Monday 19th December 1938

Scant, meagre snow falling. High, bitter wind. Slinky would not start up, as I’d expected. Eventually I had a tow from the nearest garage and, once in the workshop they took the engine to bits. A blown gasket. 10/6. Didn’t get away from there until 3 o’clock so eventually did no work, though I ran over to Southend, fruitlessly, in the afternoon.

Bloody cold! Bartman, Flavel and I huddled around the fire at digs. Gradually the room became warm. We played pontoon. Won 3/-. It’s so cold that it’s agony to undress or even enter one’s bedroom. My face and hands are hellish sore, through the wind. Can’t afford an overcoat and I lost a new pair of gloves recently.