Another week. How little I get done. The days seem to follow each other as quickly as hours. Went to tea at the Regal. Saw a lovely little blonde who sometimes has lunch at Rose’s Café. She smiled and we had a little talk. There was also a gloriously handsome girl, with a soldier. She had a delicately moulded face, and long, thick black hair, hanging down over her shoulders. When she got up to go, she put on a scarlet cloak with a hood.
Beautiful starlight night, but no planes or alarms.