Up at eleven-thirty and the sun and chill reminded me of a typical winter's day. I prefer winter to summer; there's something about the feeling in the air.
Mum, Dad and Nanna P. went to Withenkirk leaving me at home to enjoy my freedom. When they got back, Dad gave me a superbly bound copy of Sir Robert Ball's In The High Heavens (1910) as a present. It's in excellent condition and as I looked through it I really regretted neglecting my astronomy hobby.
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