Slept like the dead, and missed
another “diver” attack at 4.15, when a number went over S. of the town. Fog, then clear.
Office 9.30. Daphne gone to Manchester, to try for a job
as a teacher. Can't blame her, but shall
miss her.
At lunch heard a radio talk on
“the smallest house in Britain”, that at Conway. They make a fuss about it, yet all that row, and part of the town wall, will be
destroyed as soon as the war is over.
By afternoon post, letter from
Meg MacDougall, to say I shall be welcome in Inverness, and ends “Hope you have no
more divers.”
To Post at 9pm. A very dark foggy night. Not much happening. Felt tired and sleepy. Off at 1am and hurried home. A slight fit of the phantas magoria on the
Straight Road, - a large, entirely non-existent farm on the left side of the
road.
No comments:
Post a Comment