Fine, still, rather cold. Finished digging limed patch. Transplanted apple tree. Had great difficulty uprooting it & fear I damaged its roots seriously. Cut down remaining michaelmas daisies & transplanted one clump. Found nest of 11 eggs, not say on & seemingly O.K., so will do for the house, but shall not enter them in book.
4 eggs.
> not say on & seemingly O.K.
Not _sat_ on, maybe?
Come spring, let’s all remember to check on the status of that apple tree, OK?
That’s just it; that’s the sad part of this narrative to this point—He moves to London in May (I think). I’m not sure he ever sees this place again after that. In his heart, I believe Eric is aware of the [possible/probable] futility.
Yes, he moves London about May, though he an Eileen continued to visit Wallington at weekends. More problematically he stops keeping this “domestic” diary in March next year–but he keeps a “War” diary from May, which covers foreign affairs and the reaction to war at home. I’ve just finished reading “Remembering Orwell” (thoroughly recommend it) and was pleased to read that several of Orwells bushes (including the six-penny rose from woolies) were still growing in the 1980s.