Tuesday, December 27th., Cadogan Square, London.
Bad night. Enfeebled. Forty minutes talk with Dorothy about the fortunes of "Mr. Prohack". Then I walked in snowy Battersea Park, which cleared my head. Family gathering with a sort of running buffet this afternoon. Fortunately I managed a short sleep, or rather a doze, in my chair before evryone arrived so was able to enjoy it. Plenty of light-hearted banter interspersed with personal observations and some sentimental recollections. Noisy and tiring but good. Essential for family cohesion to have a get-together now and then, and what better time than Christmas.
Later I sat down to draft a letter to authors urging them to subscribe to the National Book Council. It is suggested that this appeal should be signed by Hardy, Shaw, Wells, me and two or three others. I shall send it tomorrow to Willie Maxwell for his consideration.
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