Still a clear blue sky, and not a sign of rain. Joanna came in this morning with a broken finger through mishandling some posts at Mersea yesterday.
This afternoon there was a great cloud of smoke drifting across the town, with a smell of burning wood. I was having tea at the Regal when Capt. Folkard and Joe Percival came in. They had come up from Wigborough, and said there was smoke drifting from the east all the way. I cannot find out what it is, but I suppose it is some kind of smoke screen being tried out.
This evening I noticed how beautiful are the flowering cherry trees in Gladstone Road. They are planted on the edges of the pavement, alternately pink and white, and are now a glorious mass of colour, with the bright green of the young tree leaves in the gardens behind them. It is an extraordinarily beautiful sight, and quite transforms this rather dull late Victorian road.
About 8 tonight a man called Martin, a butcher, came to see me at the stables, most anxious to buy Robin. I am not at all keen to let him go, and suggested if I did I should not consider less than £40, to which he immediately agreed. I promised him a first offer if I did want to sell, and we left it at that.