No air raid. Went to hospital with Mum to have her callosity on finger removed. Clifton was there with his father who is going blind.
Dick told me off about my bridge, wants me to study it properly – can't be bothered now.
Tea in quarry with Sheila and Pat (Cullinan). They tried to make me agree that we do another play but I don't think it worth while - can't cope with constant air raids, and lack of enthusiasm.
Sheila and I went to funeral of Mr J. Owens (RC) who died yesterday of beriberi heart.
A kitchen squad (under Mr Owen Evans) has done well so far. The main grouse from strikers seems to be that they're not allowed to draw their meals from the kitchen, but may eat them there when on duty. ((Now I can't make sense of that entry, perhaps Mr. Jones' diary might mention this matter?))
Clifton made me a nice small stool (a piece of canvas across two bits of wood).