Feeling feeble

Wednesday, January 6th., Rue de Calais, Paris.

All day yesterday I was ill, probably owing to mussel soup at Sylvain's on Monday night, but I do not feel sure. I was there with Rhoden and the dinner seemed admirable, but perhaps my assessment was premature. Rawson came for his lunch and I was obliged to send him away again.

Chichi came in the evening and stayed until midnight. I had slept nearly all day but was still too tired for any sensual experiences. Pity as she was on good form and clearly only awaited a little encouragement. Still we had a good talk. As curiously illustrating the customs of costume she told me that she cannot go out to do household shopping in a hat. She must go bare-headed. The matrons of Burslem would be horrified. 

I couldn't read anything yesterday but newspapers. I read Stead's new paper, The Daily Paper, first number, all through. It made me admire the man, but if the paper succeeds I shall be surprised. He is certainly a controversial figure - journalist, editor, pacifist and spiritualist. Of course he served time in prison following the notorious Eliza Armstrong case. In fact this is the re-launch of the paper and seems to me to be aimed at domestic readers, particularly women. My sense is that he has passed his high-water mark.

Although feeble I did a good day's work today.

Davray called, and handed me the half-price ticket for Mentone he obtained for me through the Mercure de France. Rhoden gave me an excellent Viennese dinner at an Austrian restaurant in the Rue d'Hauteville. Afterwards at the Grand Cafe he enlarged on his international experiences as an insurance man.

Making a change

Sunday, December 20th., Rue de Calais, Paris.

Yesterday I finished the second chapter of "A Great Man".

I went to Cook's in the morning and began the business of departing to England by drawing out all the money I could and getting my ticket. The clerk asked me if I was going home for Christmas and I said I was, but am I? He wished me a happy Christmas.

At night I didn't feel very hungry so I had to tempt myself with a 'nice little dinner' at Sylvain's, which cost me 6 francs. Then I came home (there's that word again!), played Beethoven's two Sonatas op. 49, perfectly charming, finished reading Le Temps all through, and went to bed at 10.30. Read in bed for half an hour or so - Golding's sea trilogy; I have just started the third part; not quite sure about it. I slept until 8.10 this morning, which is good.  

I have seen a lot of Chichi lately. We dined at the Hippo. Restaurant on Friday and then to Bostocks. The restaurant seemed to be full of dancers and ex-dancers. C. doesn't seem distressed about my going back to England. No doubt she will have other 'company' in prospect while I am away. Not sure how I feel about that. In a way I will be glad to make a change, even if only temporary. I am one of those people who, whatever their situation, are always inclined to think that they would like to move on to something else. Perhaps most people are like that, at least men, but we can't admit it.