Thursday, December 13th., Yacht Club, London.
I was told the following at dinner last night:
Two working men were in the Tube and began arguing whether a certain peculiarly dressed person in the same carriage was or was not the Archbishop of Canterbury. They bet. To settle it one of them went up to the person and said: "Please sir, are you the Archbishop of Canterbury?" The reply was: "What the bloody hell has that got to do with you?" The workman went back to his mate and said: "No good mate. The old cow won't give me a straight answer either way."
The dinner was rather rich and consequently I didn't sleep as well as I would have wished. A bit lethargic this morning, but a good walk (frosty and clear) did me a power of good, and I got some ideas for my novel. I think myself it probably was the Archbishop!
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