Fine, sunny, cold wind. Began clearing the vacant ground between the old garden & the new patch. Burnt a little of the rubbish. Limed another strip, also the rhubarb patch, but have not turned the lime in here. Collected the first sack of dead leaves (beech). Had noticed for two days that a brown hen was sitting out somewhere. Tonight found her nest – 10 eggs, 1 broken. Took the eggs, which may possibly be good, being unfertilized. Tonight she had gone back to the empty nest. Put her in the house, & hope she may be cured in a few days. This morning shifted the wire of the run. Posts are not long enough for gate posts, but can have an extra piece fitted on if I can get hold of some timber. Yesterday, when sinking holes for the posts found that the chalk is only about 6” beneath the surface, but possibly it isn’t so all over the patch.
4 eggs. Sold 20 @ 3/6 (to milkman).
 Orwell originally wrote ‘Tonight,’ presumably when he was writing up his diary. Peter Davison