Thursday, January 15, 2009

Thursday 14th October 1943

26 furlongs around the compound.

Nowadays I go to OT and bind books in the afternoons and there is peacefulness. The roof-banging is finished and all that remains is the desultory (yet frenzied) wrangling of Wogs. Sometimes even this ceases and then it is very, very quiet for there is only one other man in the room and he is engrossed in weaving a gaily coloured belt. He is a taciturn Liverpool man. When he speaks, his voice has a husky, friendly sound like the Duke's. His accent is the same as Newton's too.

The job I have begun will be the hardest one of my book binding career for which it should also stand as an imperishable memorial. In later ages, book binders yet unborn will say “This was his crowning achievement...” It surely is a monumental book though – a PG Woodhouse omnibus of 864 pages, several hundreds of which are loose.

Evening: Went to an ENSA concert, supported by a solid phalanx of friends. Jock was in front, Brown and Meek on either side. We had seats. We all enjoyed the show. I shouldn't have bothered to go, only Jock said after tea in his dominating way, “I'm just going to put your name down for the concert.” And that was that!


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