Saturday
Felt better. Weather completely changed again – brilliant
sunshine, but very cold. Put on my new
green stockings – very smart. Got in
early, found letter from Margery regretting she cannot have Father for a visit
– in case he might fall ill. Poor old
Father. Fortunately I had said nothing
whatever to him about a holiday.
Ella keeps on going in and out of
the house every day, throwing things out of cupboards. I am keeping away from her, as I know we
should only quarrel.
Went to Corn Exchange at 1.30, to
attend interview of men for foreman’s job at Abbots Wick. Four attended. Fear they have picked the wrong one, a much
too talkative man.
Called at Seymours , to thank Mrs Seymour for a kind letter
she had written about Mother. Heard all
about poor old Jones’ death. It was
cancer on the liver. Well, Mother was
spared that, anyway. Mrs Seymour’s father was
taken bad on Wednesday last, and is not expected to live.
Called at Dedham on way out. Brilliant moonlight night, but no planes
about. I wonder if they are raiding Germany
tonight?
Brass band playing carols faint
and far in the distance tonight. Heard
carols on the German radio too.
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