Sunday
Pouring rain until 10
o’clock. Ate breakfast in bed, and spent
the morning writing. The weather
cleared, and a lot of planes began flying about – a huge mass of 4-engine
bombers flew over low, like a cloud of butterflies. About 4 went down to Dedham and had tea at the café, where I
haven’t been for several months. Some
people at the next table were talking about Royalty, and one woman said her
uncle, at Horkesley, had a bust of Edward VIII in his room, and maintained that
he and no other is the rightful king.
Went on to Lawford, and arrived
just in time to have an egg. Unfortunate
that I had just had one for tea. Joy let me have eggs for Father and a pint of milk for myself.
Back to Higham as the clock
struck 10, bright starlight, the twinkling points reflecting in the puddles in
the road. A few searchlights weaving
patterns in the sky, but the light not on.
Conran said it will be on tomorrow.
Feel I cannot stay here much longer, and intend to ask Sisson if I can
get into Thorington Hall. Showed Conran my Windsor Royal Show exhibition photos [from 1939], but he
was not very interested. Bed 11.30.
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