Yesterday I wrote a 4,000 word tale, "The Railway Station", for Tillotsons complete, and had finished it before 7 p.m. Moreover I slept perfectly after it, from 12 to 8.15 without a break, which is extraordinary for me. This story and "Saturday to Monday" will bring me in 18 guineas, due by the end of December.
The weather is worse and worse. After raining all day it began to snow in the evening. I dined well and came in after dinner for an hour, meaning to go later to a music-hall. But once inside I could not persuade myself to go out again.
This morning when I woke up it was still snowing, the roofs all white and the streets all water.
This last few days I have begun to make my luncheons about half their usual size - two poached eggs, a roll, and a cup of chocolate; with excellent results.
Additionally for November 30th., see 'Sailing for home' -
We spent the whole evening in talking "shop", Edgar Selwyn being the quietest. Boat rolled, always. In the middle of the night she rolled so much that she overthrew my red clock. Also fiddles on the tables, last night at dinner. Quite unnecessary, but it is probably a dodge to convince passengers that they are good sailors. No fiddles on at breakfast this morning, when they were necessary and crockery was rattling and crashing about all over the place.