I was in the park yesterday thinking about a short story, and saw a woman on horseback with an old man who had a striking resemblance to Cunningham Graham. The woman stopped her horse and spoke to me. She said I shouldn't remember her name and I didn't. She then introduced me to Cunningham Graham. C.G. didn't hear. "Who are you?" he asked. "Ah, " he said, "I didn't recognise Mr. B. in a hat. The photos of him - " I took off my hat and showed my hair, and said: "Is it true to the photos?" I complimented him and asked how he was. He said, "As well as possible under the reign of MacChadband." Prejudice against Labour showed itself instantly, and you could see that the Labour regime was very much on his mind, since it leaped out at the first opportunity. I stuck up for Ramsay MacDonald. He said that the Clydesiders, and especially Kirkwood, always called him MacChadband (because he preached so much). I said he was a very decent fellow. "So was Judas - a very decent fellow!" said C.G. and went on a bit about Judas, larkishly. "Who told you that, C.G., about Judas?" I asked. He hesitated and said, "I - I got it out of the Talmud." I said, "I see, I withdraw. You have the better of me." He stretched out his hand to say goodbye. A sporting sort of cuss.
Last evening Max Beaverbrook was telling us a story which he had bought from a divorce detective for £50 but dare not use. It was all to do with a woman who engaged the services of a private detective, ostensibly because of apparent infidelity by her husband. In the end it turned out that the husband was a murderer, and was given-away to the police by the detective. Another sort of "Judas"!