Sunday, 6 February
An episode of "And oh, the children's voices in the lounge!" was followed by my going to the office and saying:
"I am going to bed lest these children be the death of me. May I have a special dinner, please?"
"Certainly. What would you like?"
"Send me some milk and let the milk be hot. And send me some bread and let the bread be inside the milk."
Next morning, having slept eight hours and fifteen minutes, I went to the manageress and:
"People," I said, "are far too proud of their children and too fond of displaying them in public. . . . There is nothing wonderful about parentage and nothing clever. Most people are parents. I have been one myself. . . . Children should be seen and not heard. . . . If they raise their voices in the public rooms, they should be sent to their bedrooms. Some would suggest the coal-hole; but I, as you know, have a gentle heart. . . . Remember that we live in an age of reprisals. The privilege of screaming and yelling is not confined to children. Adults enjoy equal rights. Next time a child raises its voice in my presence, I shall in quick succession bellow
