July 26 + 

As long as I can hold a pen, I shall, I suppose, go on trickling ink into this diary! + 

I am amusing myself by reading the Harmsworth Encyclopaedia in 15 volumes, i.e., I turn over the pages and read everything of interest that catches my eye. + 

I get out of bed about ten, wash and sit by the window in my blue striped pyjama suit. It is so hot I need no additional clothing. E⁠⸺ comes in, brushes my hair, sprinkles me with lavender water, lights my cigarette, and gives me my book-rest and books. She forgets nothing. + 

From my window I look out on a field with Beech hedge down one side and beyond, tall trees⁠—one showing in outline exactly like the profile of a Beefeater’s head, more especially at sunset each evening when the tree next behind is in shadow. The field is full of blue Scabious plants, Wild Parsley and tall grass⁠—getting brown now in the sun. Great numbers of White Butterflies are continually rocking themselves across⁠—they go over in coveys of four or five at a time⁠—I counted 50 in five minutes, which bodes ill for the cabbages. Not even the heaviest thunder showers seem to debilitate their kinetic ardour. They rock on like white aeroplanes in a hail of machine-gun bullets. + 

Then there are the Swallows and Martins cutting such beautiful figures through the air that one wishes they carried a pencil in their bills as they fly and traced the lines of flight on a Bristol board. How I hanker after the Swallows! so free and gay and vigorous. This autumn, as they prepare to start, I shall hang on every twitter they make, and on every wing-beat; and when they have gone, begin sadly to set my house in order, as when some much loved visitors have taken their departure. I am appreciating things a little more the last few days. + 