My women

Sunday, November 29th., Cadogan Square, London.

One of those dismal, grey sort of days which make one long for warmth and sunshine. I went out for a walk first thing to get some ideas; didn't get any; just got cold. 

Domestic problems are on my mind and I found myself thinking about women in general and my women in particular. What I mean is the women in my books. I must have invented dozens, if not hundreds, by now and it has never before occurred to me to wonder if they have a sort of common denominator, a fundamental resemblance. I suppose they must have as they are all the product of a single brain. But then again my attitude to women must have fluctuated over the years; indeed I know it has. Do my female characters in any way reflect the way I am thinking about women in general as i invent them. I suppose so. Perhaps even within a single book, O.W.T. for example, a careful reader who also had some insight into my personality might see interesting variations. If I had time I could look back through my women and discover things about myself. But I never will have time because there is always the need to earn more money to support the current (rather expensive) woman, not to mention my estranged wife. They will be the death of me!

The other worry is about this house because the lease is coming to an end and will not be extended in spite of my best efforts. Where shall we go? I foresee battles ahead. It brings to mind the conflict between Edwin and Hilda in "These Twain" over where to live. Prescience perhaps?

I think my favourite female character was a very minor one - Florence Simcox, the champion female clog dancer. She made a lasting impression on Edwin and on me as well. I have often fantasised about meeting her in real life. What an exciting handful she would have been! I often think of her at night when I can't sleep, and some of my daydreams have been very stimulating. I shoud have resurrected her as a character in a short story.