6 July 1931 – 12 July 1931

O to seek relief from this incessant correction (I am doing the interludes) and write a few words carelessly. Still better, to write nothing; to tramp over the downs, blown like thistle, as irresponsible. And to get away from this hard knot in which my brain has been so tight spun—I mean The Waves. Such are my sentiments at half past twelve on Tuesday July 7th—a fine day I think—and everything, so the tag runs in my head, handsome about us.