Saturday, May 1st., Cadogan Square, London.
Started on the correction of the second part of "Lord Raingo". Two hours or so of this and then I went up by bus to Welbeck Street to see Dorothy. The miners' strike was on, and the posters said that the Trades Union Council had ordered a general strike in sympathy starting at midnight on Monday. Great gloom especially as I had been sure of, and had prophesied, a settlement of the coal trouble. I am going to have to clarify my thoughts now that the whole industrial 'problem' is coming to a head. Which side am I on? The words I put into Edwin Clayhanger's mouth come back to me: "... workmen on strike are always in the right; at bottom I mean. You've only got to look at them in a crowd together. They don't starve themselves for fun." And I didn't write that for fun. It was what I thought then. Do I still?
This business of being a father is taking some getting used to. Whenever I meet people my first thought is: "Do they know?" And then I am wary as to how they will react. I must be coming across rather strangely in consequence, but they probably attribute it to my being a first-time father at the age of 59. If only Marguerite had been willing to divorce we could have regularised the whole business and I would behave naturally. The fact is I am a conventional person at bottom. I don't like the idea of having a bastard daughter.
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