Bearing up

Friday, March 15th., Cadogan Square, London.

I have given up on "The Count of Monte Cristo". It started well and I was fully engaged for about three bed-reading sessions, but it has become too wordy, not enough action. I got as far as Rome; that was far enough!

My nephew Richard writes that he has a cold. In fact the greatest cold in Great Britain. Good for him say I. I never have colds - or perhaps one every three or four years - but I have plenty of other ailments. It occurs to me that perhaps the body can only accommodate one or two ailments at a time. So, if you have chronic neuralgia, as I do, then you are somehow immunised against other things. I may be wrong. It has happened.

Chiltern Court and Baker St. Station

 

 

Everything is subordinate to our intended move at the moment. I have decided that I am not going to buy any more Empire furniture. In fact I am going to sell some. When we move there will be much less Empire stuff in the domestic nest. I propose to have for myself a purely modern study, designed by McKnight Kauffer. A change will be as good as a rest, as my mother was fond of saying. It looks as if we are settled on Chiltern Court, over Baker Street Station, or rather to the side of it. This block contains the best flats we have seen. Nearly as good practical arrangements as in a house. They are sworn to be sound proof and they have the advantage of being within three minutes of Regent's Park. In fact I think we will take two flats and have them 'merged' together.

Wells has taken a flat there. So have the Kauffers, and I hear that Shaw is 'thinking'. When I went there the other day for another viewing the architect, the estate agent, and two underlings were all waiting on the pavement to receive me. It was like a royal visit. So to clear the solemn atmosphere I had to make a few jokes. The two flats together are about as long as a street. The rent would almost pay the interest on the National Debt.

Hence, I have done nothing but work and once the deal is complete it seems I will do nothing but work for the rest of my life simply to keep pace with domestic expenditure. This week I hope to finish the second part of "Imperial Palace". 140,000 words so far. There are four parts but the other two will be shorter. Nevertheless it will be my longest novel. I have now worked daily, including Sundays, for 23 days. Bearing up well so far. In fact when I awoke from my afternoon nap today I was feeling decidedly frisky, but there will be a reckoning.