Coming to an end

Tuesday, October 22nd., Yacht Club, London.

The war is drawing to a close, thank god! In fact last week there was a very strong rumour, apparently emanating from the Foreign Office, that Germany had capitulated to all Wilson's terms and that the Kaiser had abdicated. Proved not to be true, so a few more soldiers will die whilst the politicians pontificate and delay. Surely they could call a truce whilst the preliminary negotiations take place? Too simple an idea for the political mind!

Not surprisingly there is a deep-seated resentment towards Germany and an overt desire to inflict punishment. What those who advocate this miss of course is that it will not be the political classes in Germany who suffer but the ordinary people. It is always the way. For myself I have no resentment towards the German people, though I would be happy to see the Kaiser hung from a lamp-post. My magnanimity in this respect surprises me somewhat as I am, by nature, a person who bears a grudge. If someone gets on the wrong side of me then, as a rule, there is no getting back. There are people who I have not spoken to for years, and who have probably forgotten what precipitated my hostility; but I do not forget, or forgive! Not a pleasant aspect of my personality as I freely admit, but it is my way and I don't expect to change now; indeed I don't intend to.

I have slept at the flat since the end of last week. Very exciting and rather uncomfortable with a mad servant aged 70 in the place. Of course, once this is over, I will have to resume 'normal' life which means returning to the rigours of marriage. I dread the prospect. Unless Marguerite moderates her behaviour (which is less likely than me abandoning a grudge) I see no alternative to a further deterioration in our relationship culminating in a separation. The only question is how long it will take.

Saturday night: "AsYou Were" at the Pavilion. A few fair jokes (verbal). As a whole, terribly mediocre. Every scene turned on adultery, or mere copulation. Even in a primeval forest scene, and adultery among gorillas was shown. This revue is the greatest success in London at present, and is taking about £3000 a week. So much for popular taste.

In bed all day Sunday with neuralgia. Pored with rain all day. It now appears that Beaverbrook, more and more ill, will resign. Conflabs daily in the Ministry which is steadily being restructured.