There was such a lovely light late afternoon - we have had a day of wintery sunshine with the odd afternoon shower - then some ominous clouds. The Channel looks jewel like, with its white horses, its white seagulls, and its colours going and flowing.
The Captain was off beachcombing with butterfly Mark, and I have done my studying - on the balcony - and made a start on my magazine route. All will have to be posted again of course.
Carola sent me some home-made marmalade. And Col took me to the meeting at the Hall last night.
My Stevie Smith obsession continues. As a war poet - of WW2 - she is unique.
I REMEMBER (by Stevie)
It was my bridal night I remember
An old man of seventy-three
I lay with my young bride in my arms
A girl with t.b.
It was wartime, and overhead
The Germans were making a particularly heavy raid on Hampstead.
What rendered the confusion worse, perversely
Our bombers had chosen that moment to set out for Germany.
Harry, do they ever collide?
I do not think it has ever happened,
O my bride, my bride.
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