When I came home that evening I was still in doubt as to what I』d spend my seventeen quid on.
Hilda said she was going to the Left Book Club meeting. It seemed that there was a chap ing down from London to lecture, though needless to say Hilda didn』t know what the lecture was going to be about. I told her I』d go with her. In a general way I』m not much of a one for lectures, but the visions of war I』d had that m, starting with the bomber flying over the train, had put me into a kind of thoughtful mood. After the usual argume the kids to bed early and cleared off in time for the lecture, which was billed fht o』clock.
It was a misty kind of evening, and the hall was cold and not too well lighted. It』s a little wooden hall with a tin roof, the property of some Nonist sect or other, and you hire it for ten bob. The usual crowd of fifteen or sixteen people had rolled up. On the front of the platform there was a yellow placard announg that the lecture was on 『The Menace of Fascism』. This didn』t altogether surprise me. Mr Witchett, who acts as chairman of these meetings and who in private life is something in an architect』s office, was taking the lecturer round, introdug him to everyone as Mr So-and-so (I fet his he well-known anti-Fascist』, very much as you might call somebody 『the well-known pianist』. The lecturer was a little chap of about forty, in a dark suit, with a bald head which he』d tried rather unsuccessfully to cover up with wisps of hair.
Meetings of this kind art on time. There』s always a period of hanging about on the pretehat perhaps a few more people are going to turn up. It was about twenty-five past eight when Witchett tapped oable and did his stuff. Witchett』s a mild- looking chap, with a pink, baby』s bottom kind of face that』s always covered in smiles. I believe he』s secretary of the local Liberal Party, and he』s also on the Parish cil and acts as M.C. at the magiterures for the Mothers』 Union. He』s what you might call a born chairman. Wheells you how delighted we all are to have Mr So-and-so on the platform tonight, you see that he believes it. I never look at him without thinking that he』s probably a virgin. The little lecturer took out a wad of notes, chiefly neer cuttings, and pihem down with his glass of water. Then he gave a quick lick at his lips and began to shoot.
Do you ever go to lectures, public meetings, and what-not?
When I go to one myself, there』s always a moment during the evening when I find myself thinking the same thought: Why the hell are we doing this? Why is it that people will turn out on a winter night for this kind of thing? I looked round the hall. I was sitting in the back row. I don』t ever remember going to any kind of public meeting when I didn』t sit in the back row if I could ma. Hilda and the others had plahemselves in front, as usual. It was rather a gloomy little hall. You know the kind of place. Pitch-pine walls, cated iron roof, and enough draughts to make you want to keep your overcoat on. The little knot of us were sitting in the light round the platform, with about thirty rows of empty chairs behind us. And the seats of all the chairs were dusty. On the platform behind the lecturer there was a huge square thing draped in dust-cloths which might have been an enormous coffin under a pall. Actually it iano.
At the beginning I wasly listening. The lecturer was rather a mean-looking little chap, but a good speaker. White face, very mobile mouth, and