Monday 12th August 1935

A day in the making-house with Jack – the others being on holiday.

I found myself crooning old songs as I leaned over the roaring fires. “I’ve told every little star” – whistled that tune so often, during my first month at the works!

At 5 o’clock I slipped out for some chocolate and a cup of tea. Eventually got away by 8. No sun, northerly wind. The sort of day I like.