Two hours sleep only. No rain, but thick fog this morning. Office at 9. Asked Captain Folkard for a week’s leave next week, knowing full well a week is quite useless to me. He agreed grudgingly. Yet he is not a hard master. It is simply that his boundless energy makes him incapable of seeing when somebody else is quite worn out.
Lot of nonsense in “Gazette” today about the “last of the flying bombs”. This ridiculous stuff is copied from the statement of Duncan Sandys and others to the effect that all sites from which they are sent have been captured. It is quite obvious that other methods are being used, to say nothing of the use of rockets.
Weather cleared, and many ‘planes went out. Called at home told Father I shall be away fortnight or 3 weeks, just to prepare him in case of my staying away that long. If I do, Captain Folkard will be furious.
Saw Diana, had tea with her, and after saw the theatre set which was very good, she is excellent at this sort of thing. Dead tired, and wanted to go to bed, but “divers” were over at 8.30, one almost overhead. Went into the field behind the house. Bed at last, 9.45. Only 90 hours to go until I leave for Scotland.