Trouble and strife

Monday, March 21st., Cadogan Square, London.

Dorothy has had an operation under ether for haemorrhoids and is recovering in bed with a nurse in charge of her. So I had to order meals and struggle with the French cook this morning. I was up early and had a calm pre-prandial two hours, but then a letter from my brother Frank upset me, and by 10.30 I was beginning to get a headache and felt out of sorts. I went out for an idea-finding walk, and got to the South Kensington Museum and sat down in a corner, and immediately four workmen came to disturb me by moving trestles. No sooner had they gone than the ideas came to me in a vague but satisfactory rush; and I walked straight out again and came home. I have been in several times to see Dorothy but didn't stay long.

I have written 12,000 words in the last twelve days. It seems as if nothing can stop me working at the moment, though I have a lot to think about. Cars for example. To find one we both like and which is suitable for our purpose is very difficult. I liked a Delancey Belleville that we saw, but Dorothy thought it clumsy so we passed it up. We have now settled on a Rolls Royce. It is 6 years old but went through RR works for reconditioning only two months ago and is now in perfect order except the all-weather top which remains to be done. Total price £650. One of the complicating factors is the height of our chauffeur, Atkinson, who is 6 ft. tall. We could have had a nice Fiat cabriolet but there wasn't room for him to drive it!

As for Frank, he has some mad-cap idea of moving to London and taking a practice. It will never work. I shall meet him of course if he comes to look into it, but I won't give him anything which is probably what he hopes for. To be honest I would find it difficult even if I trusted him not to throw the money away. Our household expenses are enormous and yet another source of worry for me. I feel that I have to keep working just to make ends meet. Dorothy is a woman with expensive tastes and very little self-control. Of course I knew that more or less from the beginning of our relationship, but went ahead anyway. What fools we are sometimes! Frank has been deceiving himself, and others for years now. He is alcoholic and no change of location will cure that. The fact is that he will never be able to hold down any sort of responsible job.