An alarm about 4 am. Got up and dressed, then lay on the bed. Lasted half an hour, but nothing happened. Got up late, and went in to
Cycled to Birch Hall, - hot sunny day. Pheasants running about in the Park. Magnificent old cock-bird disappeared into the ruined Church. Meeting was in the hall downstairs. Continuous roar and rumble of ‘planes the whole afternoon. Some talk about rural life and amenities. Said a few things. Out at 5.30.
Back by Blackheath, to make a call at Jones’ place. Crops all very forward. Then to Holly Trees, and finished sorting the prints.
To Lt. Rivers, and heard that yesterday a plane made a crash landing at the aerodrome, and loosed its extra petrol tank, which crashed through the roof of Schofield’s house, soaking the place with petrol.
Back to Woodside at 10.15, and ate gooseberry pie. Heard a cuckoo in the wood at 11.30. Beautiful clear, still night.