This is May Day and we came down here (to her Mother’s home at Witchampton, near Wimborne, Dorset) for our month’s leave. Oh! what a joy it is to be in the country, everything is so fresh and green and one feels alive again. As soon as we arrived we rushed round the garden which is very pretty with polyanthus and auriculas and it does feel nice to be here again, just like coming home after school.
I passed a beastly night and didn’t sleep much, very early before it was light I awoke and birds were singing beautifully such a concert – three times I heard the cuckoo, this being the first time this year.
The weather was brilliant when we first awoke this morning but too brilliant to last and sure enough clouds soon came and the day has been uncertain in consequence. Nevertheless after lunch, Poggy and I went up to the lovely little wood that is above the house here, such a lovely place, full of birds – thrushes, blackbirds and nightingales, the latter sing night and day, the bluebells were perfect – a perfect sea of colour – but the primroses are nearly over and I wish I could have seen it a fortnight ago.
Poggy and I had a great morning at gardening, weeding cart loads of weeds out of the kitchen garden and thinning out the rank growth of the rampant cornflower. In the afternoon came the Cocherans in full force and we played Ping Pong wildly after tea until all was blue. Ping Pong is an amusing game but I cannot understand how it has taken such a hold upon everyone, where ever one goes it is played and people are quite made about it. Costumes are even designed for it!
May 12th, Monday
I have not been writing every day since I came here because one day passes like another, but such a time is indeed after my own heart.
(She had heard from her relatives in India, with news of their plans not to decamp into the hill stations for the hot weather, and she writes excitedly of a visit from CWM – the Charles of her earlier dreams – who she clearly still had a very soft spot for. Indeed his visit on the Wednesday sent her scurrying to her old diaries)… “all of which gave me the blues, I read through the old diaries, parts at least, and wished for the good times that were therein….”
Then Wynne got pleurisy, so the rest of the month is blank…