August 15th, Sunday
We went to service in the tiny church and it was absolutely airless and I felt quite ill with this used up atmosphere. I fled before the sermon with the children and went down to the fields where I sat till lunch. I did photography all afternoon but disgusted myself by spoiling irretrievably a whole roll of films putting them into too warm a developer. I was disgusted as they were the last I took of the teams at Bulford.

Aug 16th
A walk in the morning to Ilfracombe, one of the most tiring walks I know. It was grey and gloomy.

Aug 18th
Another day of indifferent weather. It cleared a bit after lunch when we all went down to the beach and I built an elaborate castle for the children. After tea we all stood on the sea wall watching the tide come in, it was very rough and most of us got wet.

Aug 19th, Thursday
A lovely day and we all repaired early to the Bath Beach where we all bathed including Maggie who enjoyed herself. The sea was rough so we couldn’t go out far. After lunch we walked along the right hand beach to the Cave and the Squeezer. We all waded through the former but only a few managed to get through the latter. One comes to an most perfect stretch of yellow sand and one longs to stay but the tide makes it impossible.

Aug 20th
An odious day, torrents of rain all day and such weather in a tiny house with children all over one is a sore trial. Mother is in Scotland staying with the Elliots and Brookfield is let for a month. In a fortnight I am hoping Mother will go to Bath for the cure.

Aug 21st
The weather seeming favourable we al walked to Morte Point and clambouring (sic) down the cliffs saw the Morte Rock of evil repute which in times past has done so much damage. The walk was through Morthoe and Rockham, pretty little villages and a quaint old church, and in the churchyard quaint old tombstones with aged epitaphs. I insert two:
“Seventy eight years I’ve past life
In honest upright way
Free from vexation, fear and strife
I’ve finished my days”. 1837

“Physicians aid was all in vain
No balsam could be found
Nor wife’s kind love could not avail
To heal the mortal wound”. 1832.

They are rather sweet I think!

Aug 22nd, Sunday
The service in this quaint little church I cannot away with. Mr McMichael, a handsome and clear looking old man, is most extraordinarily absent minded and dreadfully slow and his sermons are really simply involved twaddle. The seats are penitential stools and after our dear bright military services I get dreadfully impatient.