Saturday
Peaceful night and a glorious
morning. Late again, through oversleeping. As I cycled past
Birchwood, I heard the rhythmic thump of wings, and three swans, flying in
line, flew over under the pale blue sky, and across the face of the rising
sun. There was mist on the fields, and
the tree boles were black against the haze.
Still no sign of Nott this
morning. He must have gone to London for the
weekend.
Father seemed rather feeble
today. Went to see him this afternoon,
and sat talking for a while.
Tonight went over to
Lawford. Magnificent red and gold sunset spread across the valley. Mrs Snow,
one of the WRNS and Commander Richardson were there, and we all had a lovely
supper. Joy let me have four eggs. Mrs Snow is most charming, and full of most
amusing stories.
To Higham at half past 10. Bitterly cold, some ground mist, and the
stars glittering frostily. Not a plane
about.
Had a reply today to my
advertisement in The Gazette for a
housekeeper – a woman who keeps the refreshment room at Witham Station. Does not sound very suitable.
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