Monday
Wakened at about 7 by noise of
aero engines warming up, but dozed off again.
‘Planes began to go out before light. Brilliant sunny morning, but freezing
cold. Voices sounding clearly through
the frosty air from distant cottages.
Did a few jobs, wrote several
letters, packed nearly all my books which I am taking. The main bulk of course will be left at
home. Am taking all the Journals and
notebooks.
Went in to Colchester for
Christmas dinner at home. The streets
were very empty, just a few lonely Americans slinking about, no doubt thinking
of Christmas in New England and California and Texas and wondering if they will
ever see another, just as I am wondering if I shall ever see another in
Colchester. The empty streets, in winter
sunlight, long vistas of pale light and shade, looked very much like the old
“primitive” photographs of the town.
Miss Payne laid on a royal
spread, and enjoyed herself enormously. After dinner
went upstairs to my little room, and sorted books. Packed one of Father’s old wooden trunks.
To Holly Trees again for a couple
of hours, in the Muniment Room, and then back to Boxted. A few ‘planes about, floating like little
beetles under the light of the moon.
Owls crying in the woods, the farm horses rustling in the straw
yard. Bed at midnight.
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