Rain here all day and the Square looks particularly bleak. I had wanted to get out for a walk this morning to find some ideas but it was not to be. At one time I would go out in the rain without a moment's thought but I am getting nesh as I get older. I swore to write 365,000 words this year, and today I have reached that number. But of course I shall write more. Dorothy thinks that this obsession with number is strange. Miss Nerney has never offered an opinion on it. I am not sure myself if it is more of a target or a proverbial albatross around the neck. Bit of both I suppose. But that is the way I am, and am likely to stay. This has been an averagely productive year so in the last 30 years I must have written over 10 million words; that is something to think about!
I missed a phone call from an old Potteries friend this afternoon whilst having my sleep. Somebody I haven't spoken to for several years now. I may be able to return the call later, but Dorothy and i are engaged for a dinner at the Savoy this evening. Not something I am looking forward to, but it must be done, more for Dorothy's sake than mine. Minor domestic crisis because the nurse has left at short (in fact no) notice and Virginia is now temporarily in charge of a hospital nurse. I suspect that there is more to this than I know about, or want to know about.
I don't know what is going on with Richard. He seems to have some idea of coming up to London with fiancee in tow. I did suggest a couple of months ago that I might be able to put in a word for him with Gordon Selfridge with a view to a job. In fact Gordon might be at the dinner this evening. Anyway it is apparent that Frank is in trouble again so Richard can't go there, and he hints that Stella is having parental problems as well. . I suspect an appeal to the bank of Uncle Arnold which is unfortunately not so well funded as he seems to believe. I am definitely doing no more for Frank though I hate to see him going under.
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