Tuesday
Fine clear dawn, still cold. Wind veered to N.E. No sign of any more rain, and yesterday’s
shower barely enough to lay the dust.
Twelve ‘planes came over from the north, in formation, flying low
towards the coast. Continually thinking about Mary Hulbert’s cottage
near the border. Feel a frightful sense
of impending doom.
Supper in town tonight, then went
to Lt. Rivers with some papers for Stuart Rose.
Walked and rode back towards Woodside, trying to stay out as late as
possible. Brilliant stars, and a good
many planes about. Signal lights
flashing in Suffolk, so that I wondered if there was a raid on, but no
gunfire.
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