Tuesday 13th – Wednesday 14th June 1944

Amazing disorder of once organised garden gone back to wilderness, impassable in parts. In one place a circle of pink and mauve flowers had struggled above the rank grass into the sunshine, but otherwise it was almost impossible to tell where the flower beds had been.

Aunt had a well-stocked kitchen. at each of my surprised remarks she twinkled, “BM” (black market). Of the vast crowd of chickens only three remain – Mrs Roup, Mrs Light Brown and Mrs Dark Brown. When opening the door of their ancient coop in the morning, I always crowed like a cockerel to give the old dears a thrill. I wonder which one will be the last to die? And how lonely she'll be when her friends have gone. Finding plenty of eggs appearing at meals, I said “Surely Mrs Roup and Co don't lay all these?” “No, BM” replied Aunt placidly.

Engine drivers on the up-grade still wave as they pass by.

Two visits to nearby farms rewarded me with ¼ lb of farm butter and a dozen eggs to bring home to Essex.

When we went to Grandboro' one afternoon, Aunt (aged 75) came stumping back at such a pace that she tired me (aged 31)!