Sunday
Father had a fair night.
I woke at 6.30, and could hear Mary Ralling moving about below stairs. She is always a very early riser. Lay thinking about Mother. I am
tormented with the thought that I ought to have stayed at the Infirmary all
through the night. Yet what good would
it have been when she was unconscious?
Fine morning.
Funny to see the other side of
Winnock Road ,
or rather our side. [The Ralling family lived opposite the Rudsdale family in a house called Winnock Lodge]. From the back I can see the house where Aunt
Kate lived, the Blomfield’s old house, where Molly lived as a child, the rectory
of Mary Magdalen and the office roof in the distance.
It is almost like living in a village street.
Bitterly cold, and rain came
on. A few planes about. Had a lovely breakfast, read and wrote until
lunch. Then went over to the house, which
looks horrible, decayed, neglected.
Mother’s chair where she left it, dirty linen and crockery all over the
place.
To office and wrote letters to
the family. Tonight called at Holly Trees and saw Poulter. Went back to Winnock Lodge, and then
to Higham. Tearing bitter wind. Cycle chain almost broken, must get it
mended.
Found the red light flashing but
no planes about.
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