'as from'W[est] H[ackhurst]'; written at Forster's London flat. - Thanks Trevelyan for "Windfalls", which he is also reading aloud to his mother. Enjoys it even when he differs from Trevelyan, for instance on the number of comparisons in Dante. Had forgotten about Tom Thornton and Put, 'an endearing pair'. Thanks Bessie for her letter. Would like to visit next week if he is not seeing Sebastian Sprott in London. Lunched yesterday with friends of Francesca Wilson: asked whether he liked Wilson, said 'no with a middle-sized n'. Saw Robin Mayor in the London Library: thought he looked better; the Mayors are liking their new house. Is writing in bed in his flat and feeling 'very comfortable and rather like Voltaire'. Has just read [William] Arnold's novel about India, "Oakfield".
West Hackhurst, Abinger Hammer, Dorking. - Has lost her address 'Like a poop (why a poop?)' so this letter must go via the Shiffolds. Hopes that she feels better, and that 'the hostel isn't too quaint'; asks her to tell him when she returns so that he can visit. Things are all right here, but 'the frost has been a melancholy impediment to the garden, and has destroyed nearly all the fruit'.
Has seen Desmond lately, 'a great joy and he seemed in good form, though like all of us he looks older'. They had an 'interesting meeting of the Memoir Club - Bunny Garnett read about that curious woman Dorothy Evans who wrote a book called Rhapsody', and they dined at a restaurant beforehand with Maynard and Lydia [Keynes]; 'Twelve of us in all - the flower, or perhaps the seed-pods, of Old Bloomsbury'. Desmond stayed at his flat afterwards.
The day before, there was a 'party at the Kennets', at which Denis Matthews and another man '"did" the Emperor Concerto on two pianos'; thinks Matthews is 'magnificent'. At the party 'Various admirals were present, and rather suspiciously voluble about the Second Front: knew nothing about it all, they trumpeted, no one knows anything but Eisenhower'. Has himself 'a sort of hope that it will never take place'.
Was invited yesterday by Mrs [Olive?] Heseltine to meet Francesca Wilson: 'What an untaking woman! I have never slightly disliked anyone more, if you follow my English'. Now he is supposed to 'read her book and follow her English'; asks whether Bessie knows 'what "I met up" means?'. His letter 'seems getting ill-natured and consequently interesting', but he hears the bell.