* * *
I must get a cornet. Eurhythmics with an artillery bugle is too much for
my wind and my dignity. Just when the graceful bend is coming forward my
wind gives out, and I make a vain attempt to whistle the rest. Perhaps a
concertina would be better than a cornet. I tried Willie Hunter with his
mouth-organ, but the attempt was stale and unprofitable, and
incidentally flat. Then Tom Macintosh brought a comb to the school and
offered to perform on it. After that I gave Eurhythmics a rest.
When the war is over I hope that the Government will retain Lloyd George
as Minister of Munitions ... for Schools. I haven't got a tenth of the
munitions I should have; I want a player-piano, a gramophone, a
cinematograph with comic films, a library with magazines and pictures. I
want swings and see-saws in the playground, I want rabbits and white
mice; I want instruments for a school brass and wood band.
I like building castles in Spain. The truth is that if the School Board
would yield to my importunities and lay a few loads of gravel on the
muddy patch commonly known as the playground I should almost die of
surprise and joy. One learns to be content with small mercies when one
is serving those ratepayers who control the rates.