When I got up yesterday snow was falling thickly. naturally the snow turned to rain. The chances are ten to one that in a large city the snow will degenerate into rain. I took a young lady friend to lunch at the Tour d'Argent. Of course tradition compelled me to order duck, and of course the waiter gave me a slip with the ordinal number of the duck which was served to us. This piece of ritual seems to be fixed forever in the proceedings of this ancient, good and expensive restaurant. We were the only foreigners in the place. I threw my slip on the floor. The next moment the waiter picked it up and gave it to me again. Out of regard for his emotional loyalty to the restaurant I put it in my pocket.
After the usual trouble over taxis on a wet day in Paris we drove to Notre Dame. The damp cold in the huge and gloomy interior was intense. Hundreds of girls in thin white or half-white sat or stood shivering, waiting for something or other to begin. The mere spectacle of them made me turn up the collar of my overcoat. We went out full of fatal germs.
Later, in search of galoshes, we went up the hill to the Avenue de Clichy, where, at a certain famous restaurant, I had frequently eaten the glorious dish at which Anglo-Saxons turn up their noses: tripe. The Avenue de Clichy was as open as on a week-day. We entered a large busy shop containing millions of pairs of shoes. The first thing we saw was a range of satin shoes. "Oh!" said my friend. "I like the look of those, and how cheap they are! I couldn't get those in London ...." She bought a pair of satin shoes in something less than half an hour. She was about to leave the shop when I said: "Galoshes?" She thought she might as well get a pair, and did get a pair. The entire business did not take more than an hour!
Time for tea. We paid a call, on the chance of a free tea. The hostess was ill in bed. Still, we got a free tea and lots of talk. I then severed myself from mankind and went to my hotel and to bed. I dined later with other friends at that notorious establishment "The Ox on the Roof", where the excessive stridency of the orchestra lifts all conversation to a shout. Thence to a cinema to see "White Shadows", presented by the great French film firm, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer! At 11.20 the show finished. Outside, wind and rain, but not a taxi. I walked to my hotel in the wind and the rain. End of a Paris Sunday.