To my greatest surprise I received my Swiss francs in no time. So I hastened to get some letters of introduction and to get my things ready and was off on a nice, I believe Friday afternoon. – Of course I was nearly late for the train arrived only 10 minutes before departure but strangely enough everyone seemed to arrive after me. So I retained a corner seat, at the door though. There was a middle aged, or younger Roumanian couple. The lady was most grotesquely though inadequately dressed. A Mother + Son occupied the seats at the window. They turned out to be coming the same way, as a matter of fact up till Lausanne, so eventually we decided to keep together. Against my former plans I did not stay in Zürich for a longer time, but for the day only, we arrived there at noon, and went off with my acquaintances at midnight to Lausanne. We spent the night comfortably enough, the lady even shared her rug with me. They were an amusing couple on the whole. Seemed to get on extraordinary well together, though the m? bossed Sonny. When it came to deciding however I had to do the job as I found in Zürich. On the German line the train was struck full with soldiers, we had a few too. One of them was careless enough to tell that just went home to say goodbye to their families, they had a 24 hours leave and then they’d go to the “war” against Poland. At that time it sounded slightly phantastic though it made us a bit uneasy, the three of us hoped loudly that our holidays wouldn’t be spoiled. – They were rather nice these people, though the lady did develop hysteries when we were arriving Zürich and they couldn’t roll up their rugs. It was most uncomfortable for me. – We had looked the town, a really lovely place, marvellously situated at the Züricher See. We say some lovely old buildings too, and some gorgeous shopwindows. We had a drink at one of the cafés. I went to see the Exhibition too, quite wonderful, while they most kindly looked after my things. Our journey to Lausanne was most comfortable, an entirely empty carriage. They arrived just in time to catch their train to Champéry, a little watering place in the Vandris (?) (sic!). I too arrived at an unearthly hour. Put my luggage in the cloak room. Went to mess at the Notre Dame, just across the station, then took a taxi to the Chalet Internationale.

This is a new chapter of my holidays of which every week was completely different. The first passed with lectures and conferences. The second was full with excursions + forming English friendships. The third the exciting forecast of war, an unwanted + unforeseen stay in Geneva spent in lazing, planning and new experiences. I met Sid Jaffe (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kidnapping_of_Sidney_Jaffe) too in that time when I wouldn’t have been at the Chalet otherwise.

When I arrived at the Chalet no one was about, though the house was wide open. The driver woke poor Mme Bel up, who asked me to stop in the lounge and to have a look at the wooden building, the real chalet. At breakfast time the people appeared one by one. The first I saw was an elderly gent. whom I didn’t like much at first but with whom we became very good friends later, the father of one of he man, Rosenheim-Norta’s (?). I have a grievance against the young one though. Then I met Bob Something a big blond American and a charming Belgian whos name I forgot. He was quite nice, one of those who would make love to everyone but utterly charming to me. I think I got on rather well with everyone on the whole. Kept away from complications. A good thing I had to come home soon after meeting Sid Jaffe. Complications would have been too strong for me I’m afraid. Good think too I took no notice of him at first except for amused indifference. I still have a vivid recollections of some of the incidents. How he smiled at me so timidly across the table. His spending a whole evening at my side making a good semblance of reading. How he rushed off at the recollection of it next time. The long and polite talk he had with Dr Beardly (?) one night, how kindly he took it though it was slightly boring. Misunderstanding a question of mine, the obedient way he turned back and with what grateful forever he answered. The morning I departed, how many times he came up to tell he thought I really should wait a day or two, and how many times he came to ask did I really go after all, didn’t I think it over, didn’t you change your mind, are you really going. Then he took me to the station in his absurd little car, gave me the chou (???), (ordered my lunchcarrier beforehand), and finally stopped there until the train left. How he told me I’d get across etc. when he saw I wouldn’t return. That was my last view of him, and the fair Irish boy. Silly of me to have taken it so on. It is all a dream. I’ll never see him again.

To return to facts I spent my first day mostly in the company of Jessie Storrie (?) a really nice Canadian girl and the “header” of the “Delegation” of the Külügyi Dr. Szilágyi. Here is a man who is unique. I think I’ll leave describing him to a later time. Fact is that by evening both Jessie and I were completely fed up with the man. She was lucky enough to manage some other friends but I, being the same nationality, had to put of with the monster. There was a Reception at the International Club and I was quite embarrassed when that awful creature talked politics to the English in English. It gave me quite hard work to make right all that he spoilt by his silly talk. I got tired of correcting the wrong impression he made very soon. It was real hard work. I met a nice English teacher there with whom we were quite friendly and another lady who has been in Budapest on a former holiday. Next day the conferences started. Dr Gilbert Murray was the first to speak, the usual English lecturer. Mildly interesting, polite, urbane. Then A. Baster a f? Exeter lecturer, a young man whom I liked rather much. An I L. O. worker. In the afternoon Sir Norman Angel (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norman_Angell) gave a lecture it was at the building of the League. He seemed to be rather famous, though I don’t know why. I couldn’t find his talk extraordinary. It was rather loose. To our greatest surprise and horror Szilágyi was mad enough to get up and put a question or a statement I really don’t know what because it couldn’t possibly be understood. Dienes, the other man, tried to explain it, but could explain a few incorrect sentences only. What I liked most was that though no one know what the man talked about these English managed to give an answer. How I hated that Szilágyi. Wished I could dissolve in the thin air, I found it so painful. We were taken round the building + the rooms