Up at 7.30. Thick fog, which soon cleared away, and the sun came shining through big and golden. Cough very bad this morning, most exhausting.
Called to see Poulter about an agricultural exhibition which is being arranged in the Castle at the end of April, and in which we are officially ordered to assist in various ways. Poulter knew very little about it, except that Richardson, Randall, and the Park Superintendant, Marshall, are all participating, and are apparently going to do exactly as they like. It is obvious that there is nothing I can do, so I shall keep well away. Seems strange to have exhibitions of agriculture in the Castle in which I have nothing to do.
Went on to Lawford as the moon was rising, to collect my washing. Many planes went over towards the coast, turned northwards, and went back over the Stour Valley, searchlights following them. Apparently an exercise, but the washerwoman said “Is that Jerry about?” And when I said no, they were ours, she answered “Oh, well, I got my little boy out of bed as soon as I heard ‘em, although I never heard no warning”.
Called at Sherbourne Mill, and had a drink of milk, the first I have had for a fortnight. Parry had just been to London, which he hates.
Back to the Talbooth at 10, straight to bed. Still no more attacks. Very strange. As I came along the Dedham road in the moonlight, the screech-owls cried all around, some mewing like cats, some crying like little children.