Penelope Belfield came over this afternoon to see Hampshire’s little grey pony. Just after she arrived a plane flew over, a Jerry it seems, and the sirens blew. Paxman’s men all knocked off and went into shelters, but she seemed quite unalarmed, so we took the pony out for a run. I was just harnessing it when the sirens blew, and the poor little beast plunged wildly. We had a run down to Bourne Mill, and she drove back, and was much taken with the whole outfit. I hope she buys it.
The alarm did not last long, and I went on to Rose’s for tea, and to Seymour’s this evening. Fine day, but cloudy and cool. Much invasion talk in the papers all this last week.
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