'I have often noticed that women who achieve success never cease rubbing it into one. They have no idea of modesty. In fact, they are damned pleased with themselves,' wrote James Lees-Milne in 1971. (He graciously excluded Vita Sackville-West.) This second volume of his writings starts in a period when there is much for a cantankerous old man to disapprove of. Like Eliot or Waugh before him, Lees-Milne saw little good in a society whose focus had shifted to the values of the masses and his diaries are full of pompous maxims like 'One must get one's values right' - even though he admits he's a terrible hypocrite. It's a fascinating read, not only because his life was populated by the likes of Betjeman and the Mitfords, but because he was a wickedly astute chronicler of his times.