I finished the final (2nd.) writing of the 1st Act of "The Dance Club" yesterday at 6.45 p.m. This act seems to me to have more emotion in it than anything dramatic that I have written for a long time. Some of it I rather enjoyed writing, and looked forward to the labour of writing. Who but a professional writer such as myself would describe writing as labour? Most manual labourers would scoff at the idea that writing might be hard work, but it is so nevertheless.
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| Arnold Bax |
Tavia and Evelyn Forster dined here last night and Arnold Bax and Mr. and Mrs. D.F. came in afterwards. D.F. seems more decent than I had thought. But he is really very simple and provincial. He is a member of the Dail and apt to refer to that and to address you as if you were the Dail. He forms his sentences too elaborately for conversation.
Mrs. D.F. told a good story. About some semi-swell who was at a village party. A girl who had come from a village a mile or two off cottoned on to him and at the end said "Will I lay with you tomight, sir?" "Certainly not" said the visitor. "But I'll walk home with you." Long dark walk. Cold night. The girls hated it. A neighbour said "Sure, and that was what she wanted but she didn't like to ask for it."
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