April 3, 12.30 a.m.—Town-hooter announced Zeppelins and excited soldier called up my billets from their beds to go and frighten them off. Pleasant to see superiority of billets over the hooter: that only emitted three blasts.
12.50 a.m.—Billets returned with exception of Private Merited, who was retained for sake of his motor-bike.
9 a.m.—On way to bath-room ran into Private Merited, who, looking very glum and sleepy, inquired whether I had a copy of the Exchange and Mart in the house.
10 p.m.—Overheard billets discussing whether it was worth while removing boots before going to bed until the Zeppelin scare was over. Joined in discussion.
May 2.—Rumours that the Inns of Court were going under canvas. Discredited them.
May 5.—Rumours grow stronger.
May 6.—Billets depressed. Begin to think perhaps there is something in rumours after all.
May 9.-All doubts removed. Tents begin to spring up with the suddenness of mushrooms in fields below Berkhamsted Place.
May 18, LIBERATION DAY.—Bade a facetious good-bye to my billets; response lacking in bonhomie.
May 19.-House delightfully quiet. Presented caller of unkempt appearance at back-door with remains of pair of military boots, three empty shaving-stick tins, and a couple of partially bald tooth-brushes.