Sunday
Tremendous gale all night, and
this morning began to rain. Waited without much hope for Daphne but she did
not come, as the weather was so terrible. After lunch the sun came out, though
the wind was still strong, tearing great rough clouds over the blue sky. At last Daphne and a girlfriend arrived on
cycles. Daphne brought me another £2. And we set off for Alderley Edge. In the village street, with its dull, ugly
shops, we met the local Home-Guard band leading the British Legion, their
banner blowing and tearing in the wind, the ranks of bowler hatted bemedalled
men trudging behind. Then came the boy
scouts, and the tail end was made up by two platoons of Americans, padding
softly in rubber soled shoes, all wearing long overcoats and kid gloves,
looking very lost and vague. Remembrance
Sunday.
The Edge - a great mass of naked rock about 100 feet
high or more, where one can stand and look right across the plain towards
Manchester. A grand panorama, though a
lot of it covered by houses. Manchester was just a
great smudge of smoke and cloud, and on the E the hills of the Pennine Chain
rose up, gleaming in the sunshine. To
the W. were the hills of Wales
with the thin grey streaks of rain falling on them. Looked on them thinking “O Cymn fach, anwyh
wlad vi ughadaw”.
Not far from the edge is the
remains of an old beacon, like a Tumulus. I suppose the beacon must be of
Napoleon’s time. (Query – shall we think
of 1940 as ‘Hitler’s time’?)
We walked back to Alderley. Notices on the steep hill – “This hill is
very dangerous. There have been many fatal accidents here.” Then half way down – “This hill is still
dangerous”. The girls would not stop to
tea as they had be back at the school.
Daphne promised to come down for a drink after tea, but she didn’t. Felt slightly disappointed, but spent the
evening writing. Went to bed, and wrote a letter to Daphne enclosing cheque.
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