I attended the dinner of the P.E.N. Club to Lion Feuchtwanger, and sat next to him, and was pleased with his personality. He is evidently well-used to publicity. He said that his Berlin secretary said that he spent one hour in writing and the rest of the day in business, making contracts and seeing people. Rebecca West was in the chair and she didn't say enough. Feuchtwanger spoke very satisfactorily in very bad English. I went over and talked to May Sinclair, whom I hadn't seen for sixteen or seventeen years. I also went over to Mrs. Aria. She said: "You haven't kissed me." So I kissed her, for the first time. The P.E.N. Club started in London in 1921, but now there are apparently twenty five centres throughout Europe. It is on the way to becoming the first world-wide association of writers, and has aspirations to promote literature and freedom of thought everywhere, especially when they are under threat. Presently grappling with a Charter. Inevitably an organisation made up of writers is going to have some difficulty formulating a written manifesto! P.E.N. is an acronym - Poets, Essayists, Novelists. Galsworthy is the President. It was originally the idea of an English poet, Catharine Amy Dawson-Scott. Dinners are totally apolitical.
Dismal day. Not cold, but a constant threat of rain. I walked out to get ideas, but didn't get any. Back is still sore and I think the walking has made it worse, though my expectation was the reverse. One would have thought that when 'God' was designing human backs he could have made a better job of them.
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