Odd!

Wednesday, January 4th., Cadogan Square, London.

In the early brightness of yesterday morning fate led me to Downing Street, which is assuredly the oddest street in the world, at least in my experience. Everything in Downing Street is significant, save the official residence of the Prime Minister, which, with its three electric bells and its absurdly inadequate area steps, is merely comic. The way in which the vast pile of the Home Office frowns down upon that devoted comic house is symbolic of the empire of the permanent official over the elected of the people. Good job too. God knows what would happen if politicians had charge of things!

Today I corrected typescripts for one hour, and then walked up to Piccadilly Circus and back, thinking further over my scheme for a play for Ruth Draper. I got the scheme into order and wrote to Ruth about it immediately after lunch. I find that I can think best when I am in a street of shops now. I like more and more looking at shop windows. Bit odd that when I come to think about it. I suppose it is a bit like walking in the country, which I now do rarely, in that the eyes are occupied without really seeing, so the mind is free to work. I rarely remember details of my walks and it seems probable that properly alert pedestrians are constantly getting out of my way.

I couldn't get off to sleep this afternoon owing to the noise of workmen next door. I arose and did a further installment of my World-Today article, about the Riviera, writing it with zest and ferocity. I am reading "Peter Simple". It has apparently no form but is very good indeed otherwise. It does give a picture of naval life and its moral backbone is excellent. 

I was very gloomy this morning, reflecting that life ought to be give and take, but that I gave without taking. Especially in my relations with women, which have not been fortunate. However at night I was cheerful again. Odd!

Celebrating victory

Thursday, November 14th., Yacht Club, London.

I dined at flat on Tuesday night (Pinker there) and slept there, so I didn't see any of the 'doings'. But there was a bonfire in Piccadilly Circus, kept alive by theatre boards and boards off motor buses. Girls are still very prominent in the 'doings'. Swinnerton told me that the staidest girl they had suddenly put on a soldier's hat and overcoat and went promenading in it.

Was told that the scene at the Carlton on Monday night was remarkable. Any quantity of broken glasses, tables overturned, and people standing on tables, and fashionable females with their hair down. On Tuesday night I noticed that all the principal restaurants had commissionaires in front of doors scrutinising people who wished to enter and keeping out (apparently) all who had not reserved tables. Last night a cabby told me he would go Westwards but not towards Piccadilly Circus as he did not know what would happen to him.

The feature of last night was girls with bunches of streamers which they flicked in your face as you passed.

http://www.edwardianpromenade.com/war/a-glimpse-of-armistice-day-in-london-1918/

Additionally for November 14th., see 'A bad night' -
http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/a-bad-night.html

The dog woke me up last night after I had had 3 hours sleep. After that my nerves were too tightened for me to try even to sleep (as I had just finished my play). I lay awake and listened, rather frightened, to the various noises, all very faint, that I could hear. (I had quietened the dog with a slipper.) Marguerite, the clocks, another noise, regular, that I couldn't and don't understand, and still others beneath these. About 5 I went on with Taine on Balzac, and came across some magnificent pages of generalisations about the art of observation.