Slept like the dead, and missed another “diver” attack at 4.15, when a number went over S. of the town. Fog, then clear.
Office 9.30. Daphne gone to Manchester, to try for a job as a teacher. Can't blame her, but shall miss her.
At lunch heard a radio talk on “the smallest house in Britain”, that at Conway. They make a fuss about it, yet all that row, and part of the town wall, will be destroyed as soon as the war is over.
By afternoon post, letter from Meg MacDougall, to say I shall be welcome in Inverness, and ends “Hope you have no more divers.”
To Post at 9pm. A very dark foggy night. Not much happening. Felt tired and sleepy. Off at 1am and hurried home. A slight fit of the phantas magoria on the Straight Road, - a large, entirely non-existent farm on the left side of the road.