Things are evidently going badly in Somaliland, which is the flanking operation in the attack on Egypt. Enormous air battles over the Channel, with, if the reports are anywhere near the truth, stupendous German losses. E.g. about 145 were reported shot down yesterday. . . . The people of Inner London could do with one real raid to teach them how to behave. At present everyone’s behaviour is foolish in the extreme, everything except transport being held up but no precautions taken. For the first 15 seconds there is great alarm, blowing of whistles and shouts to children to go indoors, then people begin to congregate on the streets and gaze expectantly at the sky. In the daytime people are apparently ashamed to go into the shelters till they hear the bombs.
On Tuesday and Wednesday had two glorious days at Wallington. No newspapers and no mention of the war. They were cutting the oats and we took Marx out both days to help course the rabbits, at which Marx showed unexpected speed. The whole thing took me straight back to my childhood, perhaps the last bit of that kind of life that I shall ever have.
 The Orwells’ dog, a large poodle descried by Humphrey Dakin as ‘a very nice dog’. He and his wife, Orwell’s sister Marjorie, looked after Marx when the Orwells were in Morocco. Dakin maintained that Marx was later given away ‘to complete strangers’, who had him put to death, though the Dakins would have liked to keep him permanently. This account is not corroborated. Peter Davison