Brilliant morning, bitterly cold. Planes coming and going from 7 o’clock onwards. A pair of horses ploughing the field by Stratford corner which was mucked last week, with a great flock of seagulls wheeling over them, oblivious of the planes which passed still higher. New drainage man interviewed this morning, to take Oliver’s place.
This evening had tea with Daphne Young, and left rather later than I thought, scudding along before a strong S.W. wind. Huge yellow moon, a few thin clouds. Expected an attack, but none came. The light was on at Higham, first time for 10 days. Several planes going over very high.
Great anxiety. Only 48 hours to go now [to my medical examination].