Friday
Another fine morning, but late
again. Green and red sunrise, but no
sign of a break in the weather. Still no
charwoman at the office, so no fires and much dirt.
Went home to breakfast. Father has been having a complete turnout of all
the cupboards and boxes. Found a number
of photos. One is of grandmother Webb
(Eliza Jones) taken at Gomerian Studios, Barmouth, about 1870. A great day it was when she came down from
Talsarnau! Another is James Henry
Jones, her brother, school master at Pant Glas, who was buried at Selattyn in
1890.
Then there are photos of Mother
herself, smiling and petite, and Father, with waxed moustaches. Then myself, a child of 3 at Shurlock Row, Berkshire, at
4, in a Colchester studio, at school, in the High St with Mary
Hulbert (Rudsdale's then girlfriend) in 1930. Looking at them gives me a
frightful longing to be back to the past again.
Father seemed to enjoy finding them.
Article in the “Daily Express”
today states quite frankly that the Allies bombarded Pompeii
because a few German troops hid in the ruins, and that they will destroy the
Appian Way, the Tombs, and Rome
itself rather than let the Germans escape.
One cannot believe that Rome must now be in the last few weeks of its
existence. Incredible.
Brilliant evening, young moon,
stars, no wind. Heavy raid on Berlin last night, so a
reprisal might be expected tonight. Not surprised to hear sirens about 11p.m. A
lot of planes were about, but mostly R.A.F.
No bombs and no firing, and, by a miracle, sheets of mist came up,
obscuring the stars. ‘All-Clear’ in
about half an hour. Jacquie spent the
evening entertaining an American as usual.
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