August 9: Glorious news. The BBC announced the antiGrass compound would be perfected before Christmas.
August 10: F denies validity of the wireless report. Said no one with the remotest trace of intelligence would make such a statement. "Is it impossible to have the compound by then?" I asked her.
"It's not impossible to have it by tomorrow morning. Good heavens, Weener, can't you understand? I'm not a soothsayer."
Can it be some scientist I know nothing of is getting ahead of her? Very dishonorable of the government if so.
Despite uncertainties wrote three more pages.
August 11: Riots in Manchester and Birmingham. Demagogues pointing out that even if the antiGrass compound is perfected by Christmas it will be too late to save Britain. They don't count apparently on the Channel holding the plague back for long. Possible the government may fall, which won't disturb me, as I prefer the other party anyway.
August 12: After a long period of silence from the Continent, Radio Mondiale went on the air from Cherbourg asking permission for the government to come to London.
August 13: The watch on the south and east coasts has been tripled, more as a precaution against the neverceasing wave of invasion than the Grass. It has been necessary to turn machineguns on the immigrant boats—purely in selfdefense.
The rioting in the Midlands has died down, possibly on the double assurance that permission for the removal of the French government had been refused (I cannot find out, to satisfy my idle curiosity, if it is still the Republic One and Indivisible which made the request or whether that creation was succeeded by a less eccentric one), and that Christmas was a conservative estimate for the perfection of the compound—a last possible date.
Brought my history up to the Last War.