The air was absolutely still and baking hot

Sunday was very warm, the temperature rising to above ninety degrees Fahrenheit. Because of the heat I slept very badly, and didn’t get up until eleven o’clock. I took my cup of tea out into the garden, thinking it might be cooler under the trees, but the still warm air was even more oppressive than in the house.

The garden looked quite showy – big flowers on the peonies, lots of roses coming out, clusters of white flowers on the banks of pyrethrum. It occurred to me that we ought to get the garden furniture out, and make more use of the garden (we pay enough for it!), but it always seems too much effort. I laid down on the grass, half-dozing half-listening to the birds, until my brother said the lunch was ready (one o’clock).


Peony Bowl of Beauty. Masses of flowers, but they only last four or five days. In really hot weather the bush seems to collapse and lie flat on the ground (much like I felt on Sunday morning).