Tuesday
Brilliant morning, bitterly
cold. Planes coming and going from 7
o’clock onwards. A pair of horses
ploughing the field by Stratford corner which was mucked last week, with a
great flock of seagulls wheeling over them, oblivious of the planes which
passed still higher. New drainage man
interviewed this morning, to take Oliver’s place.
This evening had tea with Daphne
Young, and left rather later than I thought, scudding along before a strong S.W.
wind. Huge yellow moon, a few thin
clouds. Expected an attack, but none
came. The light was on at Higham, first
time for 10 days. Several planes going
over very high.
Great anxiety. Only 48 hours to go now [to my medical examination].
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