Rather a debauched Sunday evening at Clive's last night. Was he drunk? He was so quarrelsome & peevish, after dinner. A long tirade against motorists. Suddenly Nessa got quite red& said "This conversation is so foolish we'd better change it". But Clive wdn't change it. Every change had its head snapped off. David Cecil derided; Lytton's books dismissed. Ik thought of Roger & Lytton & how we used to talk of a sunday evening. Now all personal gossip & these tedious bickerings.
L. Lacerated with his rash. Injections only painful & do no good. He limped round St James Park. Very gloomy today. Fine wheather -- thats all that can be said in favour of the world & my grind at R. joyless & unprogressive. 2 days rewriting the transition page after 1918.
Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) was een Engelse schrijfster. Ze hield vrijwel haar hele leven een dagboek bij.
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