The Henson Journals

[46]

Saturday, November 19th, 1921.

A very wet morning, but milder. Sir Herbert Cohen is said to be an expert on boilers &c, so he discussed with the local plumber the burning question of the new boiler for the heating system of the conservatory & this wing of the house. On his recommendation I ordered the introduction of an "Ideal" Boiler at the scheduled cost of £55. Another "Ideal" boiler is to be placed in the House in order to supply us with an adequate supply of hot water. This is to cost £28. With the expenditure of fixing these boilers, the cost will certainly reach at least £90.

I went through the correspondence with Clayton, and prepared a "sermonette" for this afternoon. Then, after an early lunch, I motored to West Pelton, and dedicated the War–Memorial in the parish church. Lord Durham unveiled the tablet bearing 173 names, and I preached. The atmosphere of the church was almost stifling, and the air was foul as well as hot. Yet the goose–parson seemed surprised rather than concerned when I pointed out that some ventilation might be necessary before the Sunday services! My guests accompanied me as far as Durham, and I picked them up at the Deanery, where they were having tea with Welldon. He told me that, at the Grand Chapter this morning, Meade–Falkner was elected hon: librarian of the Chapter Library, & that he had accepted the office. This is an excellent arrangement.

After dinner we wasted the evening in playing an imbecile card–game , called "coon–can", or something equally silly. It is hard to formulate a plausible excuse for such folly, but with guests in the house with whom one has really nothing in common what is one to do? At least the time passes quickly, and in a sense pleasantly. Conversation is really a lost art.

I looked through the volume of "Punch" for the fateful year 1914. It is far the best history of that time. Nothing could so clearly as its pictures disclose the unconsciousness of the nation of the vast calamity that was impending. "The day of the Lord came as a thief in the night". And the noble rage of our people in those first months shines out unmistakeably. As the war dragged on, we fell steadily until at the end we were not morally superior to the enemy.

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