Monday
Quiet night, except for
‘planes. Looked out at 5, and saw all
the landing lights on, ‘planes continuously coming in.
This morning talking to Capt.
Folkard about marketing of agricultural produce, and remarked how Colchester
street market had decayed during the war – on last Saturday there were only 12
stalls set out.
Heard by ‘phone that we had a bad
fire at Copt Hall on Saturday – the engine of the combine harvester back-fired
and destroyed 20 acres of standing wheat in fields below the lower
buildings. Maidstone went down to see,
as Capt. Folkard went off on a short holiday, which he richly deserves.
Glorious fine day. News in the papers optimistic, and some idea
that the war will be over before winter.
Very doubtful, but anyway the divers will be ended in a few weeks, as the
launching-sites are being cut off.
Early evening decided to go to
the Playhouse, but the film so bad wished I had not.
To Boxted 9.30, in a lovely quiet
cool evening. ‘Planes taking off again
tonight. Bed 11.30, hopefully.
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