Friday
Up at 7.30. Thick fog, which soon cleared away, and the
sun came shining through big and golden.
Cough very bad this morning, most exhausting.
Called to see Poulter about an
agricultural exhibition which is being arranged in the Castle at the end of
April, and in which we are officially ordered to assist in various ways. Poulter knew very little about it, except that
Richardson, Randall, and the Park Superintendant, Marshall, are all
participating, and are apparently going to do exactly as they like. It is obvious that there is nothing I can do,
so I shall keep well away. Seems strange
to have exhibitions of agriculture in the Castle in which I have nothing to do.
Went on to Lawford as
the moon was rising, to collect my washing.
Many planes went over towards the coast, turned northwards, and went
back over the Stour Valley, searchlights following them. Apparently an exercise, but the washerwoman
said “Is that Jerry about?” And when I
said no, they were ours, she answered “Oh, well, I got my little boy out of bed
as soon as I heard ‘em, although I never heard no warning”.
Called at Sherbourne Mill, and
had a drink of milk, the first I have had for a fortnight. Parry had just been to London, which he
hates.
Back to the Talbooth at 10,
straight to bed. Still no more
attacks. Very strange. As I came along the Dedham road in the
moonlight, the screech-owls cried all around, some mewing like cats, some
crying like little children.
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