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My darling,
… On coming back to the hotel I found your first letter. And I know how you felt because by Sunday evening I was sure I would never last the time. However, the work has been a relief. Very ‘enthusiastic’ reception and although I think I now know better than to allow myself to be taken in by it, it is a comfort and a nice change after Los Angeles analytic ‘enthusiasm’. However, I am quite sure that the astringent atmosphere of Los Angeles is better for me – if we can stand it. I hate to think of the time you are having and the anxiety you have to put up with. I am glad to hear of the family and that you think
they are having the holiday they need. In a peculiar way I feel I am having the work I need. Something was going wrong in the work in England – not only mine. I can't, as you know, pretend I like it, but there it is. I like the people here, but it is bad, as I have learnt to our cost, to allow one's self to be seduced. I have therefore been careful to accept the minimum of invitations on the excuse of ‘need to keep fresh’ and ‘work’. In fact I have put in a terrific amount of sleep during the day and consequently have slept at night. The arrangement of ¼-hour breaks between hour sessions works very well. I even manage to have coffee and go to sleep in that time.
… I think the fine weather did come here. They all agree it has been an exceptional winter. The one or two dark and gloomy days have had the effect of recalling what I do not like about London and England. Still, I would not have our children grow up in the L.A. atmosphere. Drugs for all on tap from ten onwards and no other inner resources is just not good enough.
In another minute or two I must go to my seminar lecture and I feel I have not an idea in my head. Now for a think, or I shall stand there with my eyes popping out of my head and jaws moving but no sounds coming out.
Thursday – only. It sounds terribly unappreciative. The time has resumed its slow pace which it had the first days and