We had a wonderful time at Croxted Road. Dear Rosie had sent Frank bunches of dark red carnations and he planted a border right up the front garden. When they all came out there was a thick border about twelve inches wide and full of blooms. They gave out such a scent. Rosie was so delighted about it as she did love flowers so much.

She and Frank were one at everything to do with gardening. I remember her greenhouse at Cedar Beeches Road. She attended to it herself and had such fine chysanthiums - have I spelt it right? - but never mind. Those flowers will always live in my memory.

Dear me it is ages since I wrote in this book and so much has happened. It is Oct 17, 1960 and here I am ill again and getting no help. I had shingles in the right foot and leg and the pain has been more than the human body can stand. When my dear doctor,   Dr. Esquivell — a  Scotch lady — saw   my   foot,  she  

exclaimed, “Oh my dear you have got shingles and we didn’t know.” I had to have a sleeping draught as the agony was too great to bear. I felt it though my sleep. Is this a punishment so as to enjoy heaven? Why is it? We have asked God just to look and see and touch us with that touch of glory and the power - one lightening flash. Today I feel better and may be able to do something. It is hard to walk, hard to pass things, hard to carry a cup for something to drink. No hand is near. I cannot hear of anyone - only letters, letters, letters - all saying ‘hope you have got someone by now.’ And so it goes on and on and ends and ends. What will be the end?

Roma is coming from Rochester tomorrow. How I long for my own flesh and blood - just for the afternoon. How good they were to come and paper the hall and clean everything. God bless them both, Vic and Roma.