Sleep in we did not goe into clammy shelter The New Pepys writes in "Truth'
last night, my wife having persuaded me to stay within doors in the dining-room, where we have now brought down our bedd, having the table handy to dive under in case of need. I was, I confess, in some uneasiness when the guns started to bang at abt 7 o'cloque and I feared they might be the precursors of bombs presently to follow. Saving the sound of gun-fire, however, which of itself do rather like me than otherwise, naught befell to disturb our rest; and we slept in greater comfort on our spring mattress (But Lord! What downy lying after a stiff mattress on a concreat floor) than we have slept this many a night. Soe we mean to continue it. Later just before we went to bedd, we heard a weird piercing noise that I did instantly identify for a screaming bomb; my wife likewise. Whereat she hurriedly to dive under the bedd and I under the table. And there we lay holding our breaths and awaiting the explosion when lo! through the party wall the clearly audible voice of naybour Lee, saying, "Poor old Babbs." (being the name of their cart.) "Did I tread on him then?" Soe the laugh over the supposed screaming bomb, with which we did relieve our pent upp feelings, was all against ourselves. And in the circumstances I can honestly say that never did I enjoy a laugh against myself soe heartily.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.