17 January. Nichol Smith’s lecture on Swift and Pope at Schools. Lorenzo was there. Found a letter from Rupert awaiting me – he called in the afternoon, and I found myself remarkably glad to see him. After tea we went out and Rupert bought a B. A. gown. Sharp, Pedley and self went out with the intention of seeing Grand Hotel, but we found the queue so long that we abandoned our efforts. We had a coffee at Stewart’s, and then went to a show at the New Theatre – Variety – but Jack Payne too! The variety was bearable – all the jokes extremely vulgar – they were applauded uproariously by the largely undergraduate audience! Jack Payne and band were heavenly – they played mostly things one knew, and did a lot of comedy stuff. I liked the ‘rendering’ of ‘We Just Couldn’t Say Goodbye’ – also ‘Round the Bend of the Road’ and of course ‘Love is the Sweetest Thing’!
18 January. A full day of lectures. Percy Simpson at 12 was singularly amusing – he read some priceless letters of the 17th Century describing a masque where everyone was tight. Lorenzo was there. I’m convinced that he hates me. Our gazes meet, and he half smiles – but it is a cynical sort of smile. His affectation intrigues me.
25 January. This diary seems to be going to turn into the Saga of Lorenzo. In P. Simpson he sat next but one to me – so that I was able to observe him. He has beautiful hands – rather too beautiful but eminently the right thing for him. He has twinkling (but not pleasantly twinkling) hazel-brown eyes, like a duck’s I think. And what a mouth! He is able to curl it in the most fascinatingly repulsive sneering smile. He walks swiftly in his effortless yet affected manner. His writing is very small and mingy – the lines sloping upwards to the left (he uses plain paper).
26 January. I didn’t see Lorenzo at all until the evening in the Bod. at about 4.50. I sat nearly opposite him – not on the same row. He doesn’t like being observed but often looks at you in his malicious way. (I hope I may be wrong – but I’m not optimistic about it). He had with him his nice herring-boney grey tweed overcoat – also the pathetic green scarf and little brown leather gloves – lined with lambs-wool. He had lots of books out spread over the desk next to him as well as his own. He had a book I wanted, I believe, but my courage failed when it came to asking him – in fact I couldn’t really consider it at all. He was writing a lot, sprawling over his desk and tilting his chair in his peculiar manner, evidently he had a tutorial – he seemed in a hurry because he actually ran. He seemed to have a cold (his nose was a little red) – and coughed several times – also a vaguely hectic flush – or was it my over-solicitous imagination? At about 7 coming past Magdalen I saw him in the lodge – looking lovely and rather flushed. Oh dear!
29 January. During this week Lorenzo – whose real name is Henry Stanley Harvey – has been much in my thoughts – in spite of being very conscious of each other, nothing seems to happen!
12 February. Bod. in the afternoon, but I did no work. Lorenzo was there – all hectic finishing an essay. We went back to the Bod. at 6. Lorenzo was still there – even more dishevelled than he had been 2 hours previously. He rushed out to his tutorial, wearing a hat (brown) and looking very sweet. We progress not at all.
11 February. Lorenzo was at the Christ Church play. So was I. He was with Robert Liddell – what a long neck Lorenzo has. Black flannel bags and a curious striped coat.
12 February. A very nice intimate tea party with Mr H. H. Harker, St John’s. He gives me so much enjoyment.
13 February. I love Lorenzo – I mean love my peculiar way. And I had thought I was getting over it. I don’t think he cares a damn about me – but sometimes vague and marvellous doubts arise – I went to the Dictionary and looked up a word – (an entirely fatuous word) becoz he was there – i.e. ‘Pentatremite – an echinoderm of the genus Pentatremites belonging to the extinct class Blastoidea, allied to the Crinoids’ – Is that a definition of me – Lorenzo – or both of us?
1 March. Yesterday a delightful lunch party at Trinity. Barbara Flower and Cordelia Wintour, Rupert, Frederic Wells and Hal Summers. Wells is sweet, but too intellectual – the girls were too intellectual and didn’t have the compensation of being of the opposite sex.
Vacation. March-April. Oswestry. The weather has been perfect – and this is my favourite season of year. It has been very right for all this Lorenzo business. Chestnut trees just coming out – pale, almost-too-good-to-be-true green – blue skies, daffodils and best of all cherry trees in half and full flowers. My attitude to Nature is 18th century I know. But oh marvellous days!
21 April. Good to be back again! Bought a lovely fat book at Blackwell’s to write my novel in (plain paper). In the evening – after dinner Rosemary and I went along to Laurence Whistler’s rooms – but he wasn’t in. I amused myself by looking at his books – and read some poems by James Bramwell – bad!
27 April. I saw my darling Lorenzo today. Just a fleeting glimpse of his profile – but so divine. His hair is more auburn, and his skin lovely, pale brown with a faint flush.
29 April Oh ever to be remembered day. Lorenzo spoke to me! I saw him in the Bod. and felt desperately thrilled about him so that I trembled and shivered and went sick. As I went out Lorenzo caught me up – and said – ‘Well, and has Sandra finished her epic poem?’ – or words to that effect. He talks curiously but very waffily – is very affected. Something wrong with his mouth I think – he can’t help snurging. I was almost completely tongue-tied. I said ‘Er – No’. He asked me if I was still keeping up the dual personality idea – he had caught me out. ‘But you don’t know who I am’ I said. ‘Of course I do’ replied Lorenzo. ‘Everybody does’. Oh Misery or the reverse! Then I said, ‘By the way I hope you don’t mind my calling you Lorenzo – it suits you you know’. ‘Oh does it – how awfully flattering!’ He snurged and went on up the Iffley Rd while I walked trembling and weak at the knees into Cowley Place.
30 April I was very happy thinking about Lorenzo and the funny way he talked and everything. I had that kind of gnawing at the vitals sick feeling if that describes it at all – that is so marvellous. In the afternoon I went out to tea with Rosemary and Laurence at 105 The High. Laurence is charming. We ate a lot and listened to Stravinsky’s Sacre du Printemps. I couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say about it. I was dressed all in grey with a blue and white check blouse. Anthony Baines had lots of peculiar cigarettes – French Woodbines and Spanish ones that you have to roll yourself. He has a grandfather living in Oxford who is a bit potty – and spits on the floor. We left at about 6. I couldn’t eat any supper – but drank a glass of water – amazing what love will do!
10 May. After tea I went to the Bod. and it was sultry sort of weather – one expected it to thunder at almost any moment. I wasn’t looking awfully beautiful. I was wearing a brown check skirt, yellow short sleeved jersey – yellow suede coat – brown hat and Viyella scarf – flesh coloured fishnet stockings, brown and white ghillie shoes (blue celanese trollies – pink suspender belt – pink kestos – white vest) – brown gloves – umbrella. I sat down opposite where Lorenzo usually sits. In a minute or two he came along and sat in his usual place. We took no notice of each other – but of course I couldn’t resist staring. At 10 to 7 they rang the bell and we stayed a bit. I walked out before Lorenzo. We got to the bottom of the stairs – just by the door I felt someone catch me up – I looked up – Lorenzo stood by my side – saying would I like a lift anywhere? I accepted and walked with him to his car YR 4628. I commented on the fact that I’d seen him in another car – he said ‘I sometimes hire a car’. Said he shared YR with ‘The man with the presumably false moustache’, i.e. John Barnicot. He said he liked me and my sense of humour and thought me quite mad. We went to the Trout and got a room to ourselves, where there was a pingpong table. We played till it was time to eat – he generally beat me. We ate mixed grill and drank beer – he’s fussy so I had to pick out all the least greasy of the fried potatoes for him. Over supper we talked of general things – but everything he said seemed so marvellously significant. I think I must have told him quite a lot about how I felt for him. Oh cruel Lorenzo. We finished eating – I can see the romantic surroundings – now dusk – falling water – the wistaria on the Trout. I picked some. Lorenzo said ‘It will wither’. It did too – although I put it in water – my char threw it away. I put on Barnicot’s mac. Driving back we talked strictly practical things – 18th century literature – the Wartons – Young’s conjectures on original compositions – ‘Think you this too bold?’ … We got back to Oxford. I was still almost in a daze. Outside St Hilda’s I kissed his bitten cheek.
And so I began to hope – and what a lot of misery was this evening responsible for. But it was wonderful while it lasted.
14. May. Rupert came to see me in the morning but I couldn’t possibly kiss him – because the last mouth to touch mine had been Lorenzo’s.
17 May. Lorenzo came into the Bod. in the morning – wearing a dark green shirt and tie – he walked in very artificially, preoccupied and reading a book. He actually came and spoke to me and showed me two books he’d bought, one the saga of Hrolf Kraki and the other a humorous book in Latin with some funny pictures that he said were like me.
24 May. Got ready for the Keble concert to which we (Sharp and I) were going. I wore my black frock – too charmingly decolleté back and front plus the Pym pearls and my fur coat. Keble quad was covered with striped awnings etc., and there was a red carpet all the way up the steps into the hall. Harlovin and Frank seemed rather bored by the actual concert! Frank said that rooms in Keble are like a very small grave – the kind you get when you’re buried at the public expense! After the concert we had refreshments sitting at a table on the grass in the quad – not in the marquee, where most of the unselect went. Then we passed on to Davies’ rooms which are in Museum Rd. The party consisted of Davies – very chirpy and getting gradually more and more intoxicated – a girl called Angela Camus who sat at the table – silent and sullen (apparently she’d had 5 glasses of sherry). Unfortunately we only had time to swallow a hasty glass of sherry – and as it was we were in St Hilda’s a few minutes after 12, but luckily it was the nice porter.
27 May. This day I went to Cheltenham with Harlovin and Harding. It was very wet – so we all squashed in the front. Harding continues to be very funny and Harlovin was as sweet and charming as ever. They teased me a lot about my appalling reputation! Poor Sandra!
June. About this time we had a terrific heatwave. We sunbathed in the meadows in our gingham sunbathing frocks. Lorenzo lay low – one imagined him walking about naked in the garden of 252 (if it has one).
6 June. Went on the river in the afternoon. Got to know Leslie Fearnehough (Queen’s) and Michael Rabone (Univ.) because we wanted to borrow a match. I hope they didn’t think we were deliberately trying to make a pick up – really I do some unfortunate things but how can you smoke a cigarette without a match? Almost before we’d been in conversation 10 minutes Leslie asked us if we’d go and have tea with them at the Air Squadron. We were amazed – there was something so naif about it! Leslie came for us in his Austin 7 – and we drove to the Air Squadron at breakneck speed. We had tea in rickety canvas chairs under a huge umbrella that needed a lot of adjusting. Leslie seemed to take a fancy to me and suggested that we should go for a ride in his car – ostensibly to fetch a waistcoast that he’d left at a pub in Berkshire. So we went. Finally we arrived at East Leach, a very pretty little place. We wandered about, having found that the people he knew there were out – and looked at some racing stables – lovely horses. We then drank some beer – and I had some port which I didn’t much like. The people at the inn could only give us a very frugal supper – and kept on suggesting that we should go to Lechlade, where we could apparently get anything!
7 June. Wrote a good-luck letter to Lorenzo. Quite prosaic and hearty – but oh – what wouldn’t I have liked to say – still I knew it would be a mistake. Nor did I want Jockie and Barnicot to know any more about the state of my heart!
8 June. Lorenzo’s schools began – and I suppose other people’s too. I felt sick with apprehension for him. I carefully avoided passing the Schools at 9.30 or at 12.30 and spent the morning in the Bod.
9 June. Today I couldn’t resist the lure of the Schools and came out of the Bod. at about 12.15. I met Rupert in the High – so I had an excuse for lingering by Schools. We stood by the Drawda Hall Bookshop and talked. Out poured the masses of people, and at last Lorenzo in his striped suit plus white shirt and tie. I said ‘Have you enjoyed yourself?’ He grinned rather fatuously and waved his square at me and went up the High and turned up Carte St. Rupert thought he was quite beautiful and merely weak looking – not vicious! Then I saw Leslie and lunched with him at the Air Squadron. Coming back to St Hilda’s at a little before 2 – I saw YR by Magdalen College School – coming from the direction of the Iffley Rd. Lorenzo was driving it, and Jockie sitting by him looking prim and proper but v. sweet. I waved and Lorenzo grinned, we all turned round, including Jockie. Then back to St Hilda’s where I was deliriously happy. We put on the gramophone and I danced all over my room – but when we put on ‘Lazy Pete’, I was struck with the fact that Lorenzo was going down, and that I probably wouldn’t see him any more. That tune will always have sad memories – in spite of its general flower-show atmosphere.
17 July. London [staying with Selways at Hatch End]. Visited several shops – Selfridges where we had lunch at an exciting new snack bar with high red leather and chromium plated stools. We ate huge toast sandwiches and drank iced coffee. We had tea at D. H. Evans. I bought some scarlet rouge and lipstick and some scent – also a brown spotted silk scarf.
22 July. Today we went to Stratford-on-Avon to see Romeo and Juliet. Of course I’d seen the theatre before – last September – but I still think it’s marvellous. Romeo (John Wyse) was awfully like Lorenzo sometimes. It was all terribly tragic – both Romeo and Juliet were intensely passionate, especially Romeo. ‘Thinkest thou we shall ever meet again?’ I couldn’t help applying these lines to another case. But my answer was not so sure as Romeo’s!
23 July. On the river in the morning – Sandra punting. I enjoyed it very much – and had a bottle of ginger beer and an ice cream cornet to refresh me in my labours. The river is very pretty in parts and sometimes very much like the ‘upper reaches of the Cherwell’. After lunch Uncle J. dragged us off sightseeing. It was very hot, but I’d put on a cool frock so didn’t mind that unduly. But high heels weren’t comfortable for walking and I got one or two blisters before we’d finished. However we kept our tempers wonderfully. We caught the 6.25 train home and had dinner on it. I was very happy and hilarious, cracking many jokes.
25 July. London. Another very hot day. Went to the flicks: Constance Bennett in Our Betters was very good. At about 3.30 we came out and went to the SF snack bar, where we had iced coffee and sandwiches, very good, cucumber and cheese – banana and jam.
27 July. Oswestry. I was very ‘glad to be back’. I unpacked and made my room tidy. Hilary swapped her yellow bathing costume for my navy blue one – a very satisfactory transaction – it looks lovely with my sunburn.
28 July. Went in the town and bought a Times. My very dearest Lorenzo got a Second – not too bad – I hope he was satisfied with it. In the evening I finished Point Counter Point. It’s quite cheering to remember that at 16 I thought it disjointed, muddled and boring, this time I loved it – although most of the talk was above my head. He still remains far and away the most interesting modern novelist in my opinion. But I don’t really enjoy any of his novels as much as Those Barren Leaves.
29 July. I worked at Old English for about 1½ hours after breakfast – Wulfstan’s address to the English. Really it gave me the pip. After lunch I started to make a summer frock (deep orangey-pink and white check gingham – 5¾d. a yard!) I think it should be rather nice.
31 July. After lunch I took some Yeastvite tablets and continued to take them after tea and supper. A slightly unromantic way of curing lovesickness I admit, but certainly I feel a lot better now. (Hilary is playing ‘Stormy Weather’ incessantly – my theme song I think!) After lunch I read Richard Aldington’s new book, All Men are Enemies – it was rather interesting but intensely depressing. After tea I turned to Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy and began to read about Love Melancholy – but I haven’t yet got to the part where he deals with the cure. Perhaps I’m suffering from the spleen too – in that case I may be completely cured by taking a course of our English poets – which all points to drowning my sorrows in work. I think I shall try to develop a ‘Whatever is, is right’ attitude of mind – and quite honestly I suppose all this is rather good for me – and an affair with Lorenzo probably wouldn’t be!
1 August. In the afternoon Hilary went to tennis at the Blakes – I wasn’t asked thank heaven! I dislike tennis parties – here anyway. Too much small talk with people who are generally bores – sometimes one even dislikes them!
At 8, Mrs Wakelam and Maud came to play bridge. I sat in an armchair like a docile donkey and knitted my dark green jumper. I also ate a lot of sandwiches.
27 August. I was reading the diaries I kept when I was 15 and 18, and profoundly depressed by them – I’m glad time goes on. But I mustn’t forget ‘Soir de Paris’ perfume reminds me of John Mott – that ‘Pêche Marie Rose’ was the nicest sweet we ever had – and I shall never be able to smell the fascinatingly sweet smell of Cyclax Special Lotion without being carried back to last term and the Lorenzo atmosphere. As I write this I have a Boncilla beauty mask on my face – tightening my skin – nice if uncomfortable feeling.
4 September. Reading Gertrude Trevelyan’s novel Hothouse. I desperately want to write an Oxford novel – but I must see first that my emotions are simmered down fairly well.
9 September. Reading Acorned Hog. Shamus Frazer is immensely entertaining – he and I might have a little in common I feel. No need for modesty in a diary. Now I want to write something more fantastic about a girl called Gabriella.
Tokalon Biocel Skinfood is just lumps of lard, scented and coloured pink.
10 September. After Oxford I think I must try and get a job abroad, even if the prospect is rather frightening. After all the excitement of life needn’t end when I go down – it’s ridiculous to think of all the thrill being finished when I’m only just twenty-one.
15 September. More work. At lunchtime while I was eating my ham, chicken roll and HP sauce, a band on the wireless was playing the waltz ‘But for You’ from the Lilian Harvey film. The passion came over me in a wave ‘accompanied with an inward sense of melting and langour’. Read More Women than Men by I. Compton-Burnett and saw no point in it – unreal people and not much of a story. Spent the evening variously. I had to decide between giving my face a steam beauty bath and doing ‘Beowulf’. I chose the former, and I think the result justified my choice. After a baked-beans supper I embroidered my red satin blouse and did some knitting.
19 September. Tried to think out an essay on the Puritanism of Spenser and Milton in the morning. Had my hair cut very short and puck-like in the afternoon, and washed it – it looks suspiciously golden.
21 September. Hilary went back to school. We went to Hamilton Square in the car and by train to Central. An exquisite lunch at Bon Marché, after which we went to Huyton with her. Then we did some shopping. I bought a black macintosh – some brown suede shoes and a chaste green linen bedspread. I withstood the temptation to waste money on odds and ends. The place is quiet without Hilary.
26 September. What funny things one does – I finish an essay on ‘The Puritanism of Spenser and Milton’ and then dash off to the Regal with Dor to see 42nd Street which was good – all legs and music.
1 October. Oxford. The 1st day in Oxford and pretty dull – nothing but meals, wandering and lying about wishing for something exciting to happen. A cup of tea at the Town and Gown – Horlicks and sandwiches at Stewart’s – then a quiet evening – except that I spilt a lot of ink on the carpet. I must fall for someone – so as I can forget Lorenzo – and at present I’m pretty bad.
3 October, this morning lunched off steak and kidney pie at Kemp Hall cafeteria. Jockie Liddell came in, wearing a grey suit and navy blue overcoat. He gave me a poisonous look, but I didn’t mind. Then at about 2 o’clock I was walking to St Hilda’s and on Magdalen Bridge I saw Barnicot with an amazing woman – twice as big as him, with a red eton crop – hearty and not ravishing.
After a solitary tea in the Super, where the band played ‘Young and Healthy’, I went to see The Kid from Spain with funny Eddie Cantor and its marvellous tunes. I wish there’d been more of those.
4 October. In the afternoon I walked a little and changed some gloves at Webber’s – a 3/11½ pair for an 8/ 11! In the afternoon Harry Harker came and I had tea with him in Elliston’s. We then went to the Bijou wine lounge and I had sherry while he had a Green Goddess – and lots of salted nuts. Feeling thus elated we wandered to St Hilda’s – just between the public lavatory and the Cape of Good Hope we saw Barnicot. I smiled brilliantly but he took no notice – is he afraid, ashamed, or merely short sighted?
5 October. Worked in the morning and had coffee with Harry at Elliston’s. I ordered a copy of Ernest Dowson’s poems in Bodleiana and spent some time in finding appropriate lines and poems. I’m beginning to enjoy my pose of romantically unrequited love. Jockie was in Kemp Hall. I had no tea, and supper in Kemp Hall with Rosemary. Afterwards we went along with Laurence to his digs – 7 Long Wall – and had a lovely time, drinking beer and eating nuts. L. is charming and wore a delightful black hat when he took us home.
6 October. I’m terribly enamoured of my new room, and have it most artistic and aesthetic. Chaste green cover for my bed – check cushions – beautiful pictures – books and bookends – bronze golden chrysanthemums on the table in the window alcove. I hear Magdalen and Merton clocks all the time.
7 October. Went to get some visiting cards printed at Emberlin’s. In burst Rosemary with the news that they’d seen Lorenzo – I was terribly excited and couldn’t eat any tea, although it was nice hearty buns which I usually enjoy. After tea I prepared to go over to Blackwell’s to buy some Shakespeare books – and to find him. I was wearing my grey flannel costume, black polo jersey and no hat. I had an orange marigold stuck in the collar of my jersey. I was coming away from Blackwell’s for the 2nd time when I met Lorenzo and Jockie. There was no escape – we walked towards each other and met about by Trinity. He took off his hat and gave me a marvelous smile – a slightly mocking bow I thought – but it’s difficult to tell with him. I was horribly nervous and grinned I imagine. He was wearing grey bags and the familiar tweed coat. Then I wandered some more until I came upon them by Elliston’s but they didn’t see me. I tracked them down St Michael’s Street but I couldn’t follow because it was so deserted.
8 October. Worked for about 2 hours in the morning, and did a few odd jobs such as writing home and trimming my eyebrows. After lunch we put on the gramophone and I gave my nails a careful manicure and varnished them a becoming shade of rose pink. At 4 o’clock I went to have tea with Harry at Stewart’s – it was hot and full of people. I kept having visions of Lorenzo and they played ‘Isn’t it Heavenly’.
10 October. An amusing lecture in the morning – Professor Tolkien on Beowulf. I bought at Boots some Amami Henna application – but doubt whether I shall have the nerve to use it strongly!
11 October. Having renounced Lorenzo I’m trying to find someone else, but so far no one has specially taken my fancy. In the afternoon I put some henna on my hair – only a little, but it made it quite a nice colour. Next time I must be bolder! JCR meeting – I wore my scarlet satin Russian blouse over a black frock – and had my hair straight, with the short piece hanging down almost into my eyes.
12 October. At the Bodleian – all morning. Barnicot came in – his hair a nice golden corn colour. We stared at each other for a long time. Jockie also came looking rather dissipated – I am intrigued by the way in which he lifts one comer of his mouth in a disdainful sneer. I spent quite a lot of time looking thro’ the stained-glass windows by the Dictionary to see if I could see Lorenzo – but it was not to be. The trouble is that although I’ve renounced him I still love him – or I suppose it’s love. Miss Rooke’s class at 5.30. I showed neither intelligence nor knowledge.
14 October. What happened in Elliston’s this afternoon ought to amuse anybody. I was there with Harry, and it was very full. At about 4.45 Lorenzo came in plus another man and sat down quite close to us. He and I were almost opposite each other. He began the conversation by asking me why I imitated his black macintosh. I replied, ‘Why, because I think it’s so charming’. All the time I answered him in his own vein, although I was feeling somewhat trembly. I don’t know what Harry must’ve thought. Lorenzo was singularly amusing if a little rude – it appears he is staying up to read a B. Litt. He looked very attractive. His skin deliriously smooth and creamy brown – his hair and eyes so nice too.
16 October. Lorenzo was in the English Reading Room in the afternoon – wearing a pale blue shirt, and looking very sweet. He says he’s doing Palaeography – I didn’t know what it was!
17 October. At the Bodleian in the morning I saw Jockie and liked him immensely – funny how I alternate in my feelings for him. He was wearing a dark brown suit which fitted him beautifully – he has a very nicely proportioned little figure – but what I liked was that when he was sharpening his pencil and I was reading in the Encyclopaedia – I happened to look up and see that he was nearly laughing and he looked so sweet. I wish he and I could be friends. I didn’t see Lorenzo – except in the High at about 12, and he gave no sign of recognition.
18 October. Lectures, then to the Bodleian where I talked to Lorenzo for a few minutes which seems to be the highest point of happiness in my life at present. He tells me that he and Jockie are having a flat in the Banbury Road which is at present half-furnished. He asked me to go and see him sometime and said I must go and eat with him one day. I think I should love to go – but probably it mightn’t be wise. Jockie has got a job in the Bodleian.
20 October. Saw Lorenzo waiting for a bus with the red-haired girl – his hair does need cutting – but it looks very decorative all the same. On arriving back at college we made coffee in Sharp’s room – I raved and soliloquised as usual.
23 October. Work, work.… Jock is in pale blue socks and suede shoes – Barnicot smiled at me (all jolly together). Lorenzo ignores me – and I ignore him. Oh Sandra, cheer up – you’ll forget one day.
28 October. Harry took me to the Walton St cinema in the evening to see The Virtuous Isidore – a superbly funny French film. Life is difficult, I don’t feel I’m treating Harry fairly – and yet what can I do. I’m sure he knows the position but he never says anything. If only he were more explicit.… Life would be considerably easier.
1 November. What a bad sign it is to get the Oxford Book of Victorian Verse out of the library.
6 November. Sharp and I went to tea with Frank Harding and a man named Naylor, to the Moorish. I like the Moorish exceedingly – the decorations and the divans and cushions in the corners. Harding is terribly amusing – he told us a good Groups limerick:
There was a young man of Pretoria
Who said ‘Things get gorier and gorier’
But he found that with prayer
And some savoir faire
He could stay at the Waldorf Astoria.
7 November. My Lorenzo is so beautiful – even if he has had his hair cut rather shorter than usual – the shape of his face and the line of his cheek fill me with rapture. He grows more affected – his smile of self-conscious fatuity is sweet – but one day it may seem silly. This afternoon he was in the Bodleian from 2.30 to 3.10. He snurged at me, but said nothing.
11 November. Armistice Day. I went to St Mary’s and everything outside was almost more silent than I’ve ever known it before. In the evening Harry took me to the flicks – Bebe Daniels in The Song You Gave Me – which was bad but amusing. Then to Harry’s rooms where I let him kiss me properly, and so gave up the ‘Lorenzo was the last person who kissed me’ pose – sad, but what’s the use. H. seems to be in love with me if he meant what he said – anyway we got on better than usual. I also had some beer and borrowed a book on Modern Art and some Proust.
14 November. In the afternoon I went to the Bodleian and he was there. My wretched heart was beating so fast I thought I should die or something – in the course of conversation he asked me to go and see him at the flat tomorrow afternoon and I implied that I would. When I got home I wrote him a long letter telling him the position and saying I could not go – it was a great relief to me to be able to pour out some of my griefs etc.
15 November. Found the following note awaiting me: ‘Do come this afternoon. I should very much like to talk to you. Thank you for this morning’s letter but don’t be mean. Try to get there before 3. I am not going anywhere at 5.30’.
I didn’t go – but oh how I wanted to! Can it be that my darling Lorenzo is sorry? Anyway I think still that it will be best if I can forget him.
23 November. Rather a depressing day. I went to the appointments committee and I broke the pencil sharpener in the Bodleian. My foot was bad so that I couldn’t walk properly. I also burnt my fingers on a kettle in the evening.
24 November. I discovered Samuel Butler’s Notebooks in the library which gave me great pleasure. At 5.30 Sharp and I went to the Yacht Club’s bottle party in Michael Rabone’s rooms at Univ. When we arrived Michael hadn’t come, nor was there anyone there that we knew. So we just sat drinking sherry, smoking, and eating salted almonds and potato crisps: feeling rather bored, especially as nobody knew our names to introduce us to anyone! There weren’t many women there and the men had collected into a group and were talking about yachting. When Michael arrived things brightened up a lot. The party had begun in the room adjoining Michael’s but we eventually migrated into Michael’s, where a noisy gambling game was in progress. A pity one always has to come away when things are getting amusing.
25 November. Went out to dinner at the George with Harry, and had the loveliest cocktail I’ve ever had – a sidecar, very iced. Also hock and good food. I wore blue lace – with three real red roses pinned on to the front. Also my long crystal earrings and makeup to match the roses. Very nice!
5 December. This was definitely a good day. In the morning I had 2 telegrams from Hilary saying that she was coming for interviews. That made me so excited that I couldn’t stay in College and work – so I went to the Bodleian. As I was going up the stairs cheerily half-whistling ‘In the Park in Paree in the Spring’ – I met Barnicot coming downstairs – we grinned broadly at each other and both said ‘Hullo’. He is a cheering up sort of person to see. I met Hilary at the cold and dreary LMS station. After taking her to LMH we came along to St Hilda’s and had tea in my room, then took her back again for her interviews. Then we went along with Pedley to the Museum – to see if her results were up. Of course she had got through, as I knew she would. She bought Sharp and me 50 cigarettes to celebrate. Lovely flat tins of Goldflake.
6 December. After tea I paid my Blackwell’s bill and bought a book of Restoration verse – then more Bodleian. After supper I went on a Banbury Road crawl – in spite of great weariness. There was a light in Lorenzo’s bedroom – is he ill, or packing, or was he just there. Anyway it gives me a little hope – and Jockie hasn’t been at the Bodleian for days.
7 December. In the afternoon we went to see Lord Irwin installed as Chancellor. It was a good ceremony – we, the rabble of the University, were consigned to the upper gallery but had a good view. After it, Roland Rahtz – Harry’s friend from Keble – approached me and asked me to tea – I couldn’t very well refuse. We went to Elliston’s – I can’t see any prospect of being interested in him – what shall I do. I don’t want to be unkind. Still there’s all the vac. for him to simmer.
9 December. I wrote a little note saying Goodbye to Lorenzo. A nasty tea all by myself in Hall (a new experience). Then a taxi to the station and into the 4.30. Quite a dull journey – going Paddington way one was able to catch a glimpse of the dreaming spires in the twilight of a December evening – romantic rime to leave.
11 December. London, Hatch End. Betse, Aunt Nellie and I went into town at about 11. I wore my fur coat – navy blue skirt and fez, and looked rather Turkish-Parisienne. We went to the Carlton and saw Mae West in I’m No Angel. She is said to be the rage of everywhere. Fat and not attractive – at least I didn’t think so – a purely physical appeal and crude technique. Her clothes were too fluffy and feathery on the whole. The shops are full of the most tempting things. I saw the divinest black velvet dresses in one shop which makes me determined to have one.
13 December. Heard the glad news that Hilary had got into LMH.
14 December. We had a good look round the shops without buying anything. Selfridge’s first – where what I liked almost best was the zoological department. There was the most adorable kangaroo there with eyes like Lorenzo and a long pointed nose. It loved having its neck stroked and closed its eyes in ecstasy. I would have loved to have had it – but it was sold – and anyway what would I have done with it?
22 December. Oswestry. I would love to be able to write a book like Moll Flanders which I’m reading slowly and thoroughly. And then there’s Christmas – Harry has sent me Peter Abelard by Helen Waddell which I’m sure I shall like. He is good to me. Lorenzo can’t even send me a card.
23 December. In the evening I had a card from Lorenzo. It was addressed in Jockie’s writing and inside was the inscription ‘Sandra from Lorenzo’. It was a reproduction of a picture of St Barbara – sweet and quaint – the sort of thing that accords well with Jockie or Lorenzo.
25 December. Christmas Day. A very happy day in all ways – it made more happy by the card from Lorenzo and/or Jockie, a little thing but it helped to make the day perfect.
Hilary and I went to church at 8, where there was the usual large congregation, but we managed things well and managed to get into the first row of communicants. Then home to breakfast and the exciting ceremony of opening the parcels. I had some lovely presents. Besides food I had: From Auntie Nellie a glorious jumper in rich royal blue with white buttons – short sleeved and knitted in thick wool and an intriguing stitch. The welt is very deep and it fits beautifully. Little Annie sent a parcel for the family with pyjama cases for Hilary and me. From Pedley I had some lovely silk stockings and from Sharp a black crêpe de chine evening bag with a quilted front with SANDRA embroidered on it in pale blue silk – lovely. We listened in to a service broadcast from Christ Church, Oxford. Beautiful singing – the way they do the psalms is such a delight. Then Hilary and I went down the road to meet Ack and Winifred and they gave us a lift back. Winifred gave me a nice hankie and an elegant lemon coloured swansdown puff in a georgette hankie. From Ack I had a box of Dubarry bath salts, a painted matchbox and some sweets. We had a lovely Christmas dinner. Sherry to begin with and an 18 lb. turkey done to a turn. The afternoon was spent in laziness and eating, also listening in. I am knitting a most exciting scarf-of-many-colours from all the bits of 4-ply wool I’ve had left over from jumpers etc. After tea we went to the pictures to see Smilin’ Through. Leslie Howard is so lovely. In the evening the second act of The Mikado was broadcast which was great fun, and to end up the evening Henry Hall and the BBC Dance Orchestra gave the best programme I’ve ever heard from them. It included some lovely tunes full of memories sweet and poignant – ‘Stormy Weather’, ‘Won’t You Stay to Tea’.