Saturday, January 16th., Menton
I wrote 2,500 words of "A Great Man" today, but it's difficult to work hard at a novel and appreciate a new environment at the same time. I am here with Phillpotts collaborating on the writing of a play. Perhaps we should have stayed in England where there would be few external distractions.
Yesterday I woke up just before dawn, and there was a red streak of light along the horizon, and the sea smoke colour, and the lamps and the riding lights of the vessels just beginning to be ghostly. On either side the hills with their bare rocky tops. Later I took my tea and croissant out on the balcony in the 8.30 am sun, wrapped in my largest overcoat. It was tremendous after the bed breakfasts of a Paris flat.
I breakfasted on the balcony again today, in dressing gown and overcoat, and all day I have had the atmosphere, perfectly wonderful, and the magnificent views from the balcony. Beyond a walk to the centre of town and the bandstand I made no excursion.
Before dinner Eden and I discussed and settled certain outstanding preliminary points in our play. It only took about half an hour. I expect to begin the actual writing on Tuesday, and the actual detailed constructive thinking on Monday.
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