12th October 1943

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”. 

No further news about Sir Gurney Benham.  Left at 5.30, called at Ida Hughes Stanton’s and read [her book manuscript, published 1952] “Willa, You’re Wanted”.  It really is good.  About 9 an alarm, and a good deal of firing.  Heard a plane go over above misty clouds, with the moon peeping through.  Left and got to Higham just as the All Clear sounded out, faint and remote like fairy bugles.

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