An alarm about 4 am. Got up and dressed, then lay on the bed. Lasted half an hour, but nothing happened. Got up late, and went in to
Cycled to Birch Hall, - hot sunny
day. Pheasants running about in the
Park. Magnificent old cock-bird
disappeared into the ruined Church.
Meeting was in the hall downstairs.
Continuous roar and rumble of ‘planes the whole afternoon. Some talk about rural life and
amenities. Said a few things. Out at 5.30.
Back by Blackheath, to make a
call at Jones’ place. Crops all very
forward. Then to Holly Trees, and
finished sorting the prints.
To Lt. Rivers, and heard that yesterday a plane made a crash landing at the
aerodrome, and loosed its extra petrol tank, which crashed through the roof of
Schofield’s house, soaking the place with petrol.
Back to Woodside at 10.15, and
ate gooseberry pie. Heard a cuckoo in
the wood at 11.30. Beautiful clear,
still night.
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