Foggy, wet and rather warm. Miss Bentley said “What a horrid morning!” Said “Yes”, but thought “no, Miss B, you are quite wrong. It is a lovely morning, and I wish every morning and every evening would be like this for years to come.”
Cleared up late, and the sun came out. Almond trees in bloom, and the hedges beginning to show green tips.
Saw Molly Blomfield at Scheregate today, looking most dreadfully ill.
Had supper at Boxted and Miss Bentley gave me an orange, the first I have had for some time. Ate it dipped in sugar. After supper went along to the Roses at Little Rivers to hear the radio. At Boxted Cross saw a coal-black sheep with twin lambs, also coal-black. The Roses told me that they were having a lot of trouble about young Pickard, as the authorities won’t allow him to come to live in the Defence Area. There is as yet no sign of him losing his appalling American accent.
Bed at midnight. The moon peeping through clouds, and a few ‘planes about tonight.