This Gay dame (JDW: Gaye Priestley) is pretty grim and I have to cope with a tea dance in the Piccadilly hotel. Later, thank God, she suggests Shepheards and then we go to the Brevet Club and I give her a couple of gins and have quite a good time myself talking to other people. I pack her off out of my life on the tube about 10.50pm and she is annoyed I don’t kiss her.
Next (plus one) night I go with Baffy Dugdale (JDW: niece of Arthur Balfour) to Lady Sinclair’s flat after a drink at the Allies Club, and am very pleased to find myself talking to Mr Churchill’s brother. Bernard Fergusson is also there, and I had had a drink, quite a few gins in fact, with him the previous night in the Senior Service Club, after giving Monica lunch in the Brevet Club. I leave about 7.30pm and rush off to meet Monica at the Wings Club. We go to Mirabel in Curzon Street but the floor is so crowded it is difficult to dance, and there is so much noise you cannot talk. Next day, Friday, I dash down to Harrow, and it seems much the same, though I feel like capping all the old beaks. J.W. Thompson tells me Peter Petit is home, so I go to call, meet his mother, and we go up to join him and a peculiar wife and June Petit at Scotts, later having lunch in Berkeley.
I seem to have got my days muddled up. Saturday I meet Marny and Bill who come up for the night – I collect Gigs and we dine at the Brevet Club, and fool about upstairs, later going on to the “Nuthatch” Club in Regent Street, a low joint full of Yanks and French SAS. A French Canadian sailor sings most magnificently and I get to bed at 3am.
Sunday I take Bill and Marny to lunch at the Brevet and then we walk around the park and feed the ducks. I lose my wallet somewhere and identity card. I then take a bottle of champagne to Monica’s flat in Chelsea and she cooks up steak and eggs and gives me some brandy. We talk and drink and smoke and she sits on my lap and I almost make some proposal which would put an end to it for ever, but don’t. She gives me a red silk scarf to fly in – or rather I ask for one and get it – I am pretty warm and so seems she, but I don’t know how to go about it, as some others I know would. She is like a Varga girl from ‘Esquire’, and more lovely than anyone I can recall to mind that I know – with a VOICE – oh my God! Gigs says she is her second cousin and older than her (Gigs 30+) and has just had her second divorce. I am going to see her tonight, but we have nothing to drink, and I shall undoubtedly make a fool of myself and get nowhere – how it will pain me tomorrow, going back to th War.
I get some sheets today for 22/- and no coupons and my battledress smartened up a bit.