Peaceful night and a glorious morning. Late again, through oversleeping. As I cycled past Birchwood, I heard the rhythmic thump of wings, and three swans, flying in line, flew over under the pale blue sky, and across the face of the rising sun. There was mist on the fields, and the tree boles were black against the haze.
Still no sign of Nott this morning. He must have gone to
London for the
Father seemed rather feeble today. Went to see him this afternoon, and sat talking for a while.
Tonight went over to Lawford. Magnificent red and gold sunset spread across the valley. Mrs Snow, one of the WRNS and Commander Richardson were there, and we all had a lovely supper. Joy let me have four eggs. Mrs Snow is most charming, and full of most amusing stories.
To Higham at half past 10. Bitterly cold, some ground mist, and the stars glittering frostily. Not a plane about.
Had a reply today to my advertisement in The Gazette for a housekeeper – a woman who keeps the refreshment room at Witham Station. Does not sound very suitable.