A weeks go by. Soon the dreary time will be over. In the meantime the hospital was slowly emptying itself, & still no sign of fresh cases. Night after night I sit behind the screens, & listen to the signals & occasional mutterings of the patients.

One man wants a drink every now & again & that is all there is to be done. So I have to spend my time working, & have made a smock for Michael, a coat & a frock for Dorothea Juliana & am making a very choice first coated frock for the expected one at Southernhay.

On Wednesday of last week Mrs Pring took Fortescue, Saye, and myself for a motor drive. We went to Hay Tor. Oh the joy of it, to breath in the fresh smells of the moor after living for weeks in the hospital and my bedroom, and when we got back to her house, she gave us the most glorious dinner.

Dorothea writes from home saying that she had heard from Ursula who had heard from George Wingfield that there had been an attempted invasion on the E coast.

Can it be true. These things seem to be kept out of the papers, or not a word appeared about the Zeppelin raid on Hull, all letters were censored in the Post Office, but news lets through after a time & we hear that a fearful lot of damage was done there, whole streets were destroyed.

In the Dardanelles nothing fresh has happened. Sir Ian Hamilton’s dispatch was most interesting & delightful reading. Very different from Sir John French’s which latter I have never been able to wade through. This every word of Gen Hamilton’s was interesting, and most vividly described. In France matters have come to a deadlock, the casualty lists are short. The Germans are preparing for another attack on Calais.