Left home at 10 a.m. and drove over slippery roads in a Scotch mist to Little Easton. I walked with Wells in the park at dusk. Stag rutting season. Rather appropriate I thought given Wells' reputation. All the bucks were roaring like lions, and we were somewhat intimidated. Two of them made a show of fighting but funked it. Before this original ball games in the arranged barn, in front of which a farmyard and cesspool had been turned into a slightly sunk garden with a bathing tank in the middle.
It is Wells' tremendous energy that makes the place so entertaining. If there is no real talking then he must instantly play at some game. I played at badminton, hockey, his own pat-ball, etc. He has turned a barn and a farmyard into something very nice and a great escape from the house.He works in his bedroom at a very small table, and has a primus stove to make tea there. He sometimes gets up and works in the night. The house is partly steam heated, and is fairly comfortable and very bright; but some of it is badly planned and arranged. It is like a large cottage made comfortable by people rich but capricious. I wonder sometimes how Wells squares his lifestyle with his socialist beliefs.
The house is surrounded by an immense park belonging to Lady Warwick, and practically wasted for useful purposes. And there must be hundreds such. "It ought to be taxed out," said H.G.
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