Thick fog last night, so another quiet time. I did not get into bed until past 1 this morning, yet I seem to sleep better and feel better than I did. Got in early, rushing down the hill and across the misty valley. Saw a heron swooping across, looking as large as an aeroplane.
Went home to tea this afternoon. Mother full of old Mr. Rose’s death – funeral on Thursday. She had been in next door to comfort the widow. Beckett brought the coffin yesterday morning – “in daylight too”.