Thursday, 7 August 2014

Easter Sunday 24th March 1940

Wobbly like one of the spring lambs in my legs. And its refreshing and rejuvenating to see the gold thick clumps of crocuses, and the unopened green daffodils, and to hear my Asheham rooks dropping their husky caws through the gummy air. The twig carrying has begun, and this goes on while all the guns are pointed and charged and no one dares pull the trigger. Not a sound this evening to bring in the human tears. I remember the sudden profuse shower one night just before war which made me think of all men and women weeping.


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