Sunday, 3rd May 1959, 3.45 p.m.
I gained second prize – 25 guineas – in the J.C. Essay Competition. They rang up for me to give them some dope, and a photograph, for their “Incidentally” column. Rather depressing to think this is the nearest to fame I shall ever get. The essay itself was a feeble affair; the lucid analysis, firm grasp of all the problems raise, are conspicuously absent. A few Hebrew and Yiddish phrases and – perhaps it is not unfair to say – a general readability – gained it the prize, I suppose. Anyway, the money has enabled me to put E’s bank balance in a healthy state; it needs to be, because as I keep on telling her, if we move – rather, when we move – her allowance will be cut by £7-10-0 a month. I suppose if I could rely on £150 p.a. net from “fees” before deduction of tax I could then keep my own finances on an even keel, on the assumption that gross rent would not exceed £7 p.w.
Sam [brother] in bed with cold, Mum has cold. The worry and sheer physical strain of his business is too much for him. He was offered a job with Shell Mex on leaving school, but my father ע״ה [may peace be upon him] wanted him to be with “Yiddishe people,” so he worked for Sol Levy (“there’s not a captain’s wife leaves the ship doesn’t buy one of Sol Levy’s handbags”). Hinc illae lacrimae. For the record, a drizzly day, Alf and Boobba Esther [Katz: brother-in-law and mother-in-law] have arrived. In any case, I cannot think – I never can – of any particularly noteworthy entry to make.
Thursday, 21st May 1959, 11.30 a.m.
A letter from Raphael Loewe saying he enjoyed my article (sc. prize-winning essay) in the J.C. I gather from his letter he was a runner-up; if so, it was very sporting of him to write to me – he bears, after all, a distinguished name in Anglo-Jewry (his father was Reader in Rabbinics at Cambridge) and is an M.C.
The Southend women Zionists want me to talk to them – I have arranged a tentative date for October. Left 34M+ words with T&H y’day. Very enjoyable evening at Richard’s [Gabriel Richard Stern, a good friend who helped with Polish and Russian words in Mumme Loohshen] last Saturday, with Joyce; sherry, wine, French bread; Dr Zhivago, Sleepwalkers [presumably this book] lying around – pleasant. Also an enjoyable day last (Whit) Monday – perambulated P. to Moresby Road [mother’s home in Upper Clapton] & back. Sam & Lily there [brother and sister-in-law], but both run down. E. not her usual sunny self going, but coming back my kindness, forbearance, patience and general saintliness had its effect and she revived. P. has been grizzling, so E. has dumped him on to me while she makes feeds. I am entertaining him. Back to school on Monday! Must try to rally for this last (8 week -9 week?) lap. We have a new head; Burden, 35-ish. He seems a good type; footballer, cricketer. But he’s modern, which means I must try to get the kids to make models & so on. I think I shall let events take their course this term. If I find, as I probably shall, that I have a lower-stream class next term, I shall then assume that it is unlikely I will ever have an “A” class – the only thing that could have made primary teaching endurable, perhaps even pleasant – and will try to transfer to a selective secondary school. But I understand that even Burghleigh, the dumping ground, [now called Acland Burghley] want a head of languages (sic, plural) dept. I wouldn’t be eligible for that, but perhaps a French-teaching job there, even, if it turned up?