May 12th - 14th 1940

Sunday May 12th – Tuesday May 14th

News of any real value is scanty. We seem to be shooting down a good number of the enemy aircraft, but they have such thousands it does not seem to be making much impression. And parachutists, who were so much pooh-poohed, seem to be having considerable success.

On Monday afternoon we went to Sand Bay for a picnic, and last night we took our supper out to Aust and cooked sausages over a lovely fire. The country we all love is almost agonisingly beautiful at this time of year, and the threat to it and its hundreds of years of peace and plenty almost impossible to realise.

I felt as though we were fiddling while Rome burnt. One’s utter powerlessness to do anything - even when we are on the edge of the abyss not daring to look into it - would be awful if it was remotely possible to believe in its reality.