Scudding clouds and came on to rain, a torrential downpour by this afternoon. Very cold. Busy all day going through drawers in the Museum, having considerable difficulty in finding the right keys among the hundred or so which we have here.
Mr. Gardiner came in this afternoon at 4, and stayed until after 5, so that I nearly missed my tea. Talked a good deal of nonsense about the Kirke pictures, which are mostly very bad, but which he regards as being first-class. Yet he appreciates Rushbury’s stuff, too. I dont feel I can like him, but he is a mine of information about Wisbech.
Mrs. Shepherd seems to be in a thoroughly bad temper tonight, the atmosphere of the place very strained. Just before midnight there were two or three heavy explosions, which seemed a good way off. Perhaps rockets somewhere near the
coast. Wonder what is happening at Colchester.