Hare and bilberries

Saturday, December 26th., Waterloo Road, Burslem.

Yesterday, Christmas Day, I was reading "Falk" in Conrad's "Typhoon", and then several stories by Wells. Also Merimee's famous "Mateo Falcone", which is nothing special except in the extraordinary cruelty of the plot. Conrad though is by himself as a creator of characters; I feel that they almost come alive off the page as I read. This book of short stories is a triumph.

I went to bed at 1.30 and was kept awake until 4.30 by a barking dog. Then at 7.15 my mother knocked on the wall. She was in the middle of a bilious crisis caused by overnight hare and bilberries. She stays in bed. hence the whole atmosphere of the house becomes special, and 'sick roomy', and I can't proceed with my novel today as I had meant. In any case I feel so tired that I could not have done justice to it. 

Various people came in during the day to extend Christmas wishes, gossip a little, eat and drink. All pleasant enough. I was asked by a boy of ten or so, son of one of the visitors, to play a game of chess. He only has a moderate grasp of the rules, but seemed genuinely interested in the game. If I had a spare chess set by me I would have given it to him. Good to encourage some cerebral activity in the young. I enjoyed the game.