Constance Duchess of Westminster's furniture being sold up today at Cadogan Square. I went to look at it yesterday morning. There is no reason why the furniture of a Duchess should not be showy, or ugly, or dull, yet it shocks one to find it so. I was surprised at the smallness of the house, too. A policeman in the hall.
|Cadogan Square, SW1.|
Dealers and go-betweens in the porch. One of them asked me if he could do anything for me. I said I'd see; but I saw nothing I wanted. When I came out he gave me his card and he told me he could get me anything I wanted anywhere at any time. He said he knew my face but not my name; he said: "We never forget a face - except those who owe us money."
Erskine told me yesterday that on Friday a young gardener came to him. He stammered terribly - terribly. But he was a 'lovely subject'. He got him to sleep at once. And when he came out he scarcely stammered at all. The man was dazed. He couldn't believe it. He said: "My wife won't know me." He was to return on Saturday morning to be finished off. He never came. Nor did Erskine hear from him. Why didn't he come? Was he scared of a second experience? Or does he think that he is sufficiently cured for practical purposes?
I went into the Oratory yesterday morning to think out characterisation of "The Dance Club" play. Men were tuning the organ and calling out to one another monotonously. Cleaners sweeping an dusting (11.30 a.m.). I chose what I thought was a quiet place in the nave. A cleaner came up behind me and said, "You're getting the dust here, sir. But I'll be as quiet as I can." very polite. I then noticed that the air was full of dust. He had somehow crept up behind me without my noticing it. So I went off into the transept.