19th February 1945

Slept well in Ollard’s bed, roused by Penny at 7, and trotted back to “White Lion” in foggy dawn, for all the world like a homing tom-cat.  Went up to bedroom, and rumpled the bed realistically.

Fine, warm.  Working all day in the Library, rearranging books.  Have collected all the readable fiction, Dickens, Thackeray, Austin, Kipling, Hardy and some other smaller fry, none of which has been made use of for 20 years, with the idea of offering this to the County Library, to enlist the County Council support of the Museum.  Hinted at this to Curtis Edwards, who was quite speechless with rage.  He looked so old, so dreary, he made me feel quite ill myself.

Going through the sherds which I brought back from Elm yesterday, delighted to find that two pieces belong to the same bowl as sherds already given to the museum by Warby.  In one case we now have about a third of a very fine bowl.  Sad to see how many small fragments have been lost through carelessness.

Tonight in office until 9, writing letters and Journal.

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