Lay awake this morning, thinking about Mother. Got in early, to go to the ploughing match at Olivers. Went over with Daphne. It was bright and clear, but very cold. The eight horse teams, all Suffolks, moved slowly up and down the field, and the cries of the ploughmen as they turned came down the wind. The caterpillar tractors, Cases and Fordsons chugged up and down between the pegs, each on his own strip.
There was a good crowd there, and the chairman came riding up the field on his bay horse.
Daphne went down to the buildings to wait for the YMCA tea van, which came rather late. Then everybody went down to the buildings and had plenty of hot tea at 1.5d a cup. I had ordered 7 dozen meat pies from the Coop, which went very quickly.
The old Chairman was in great form, and thoroughly enjoyed himself talking to the old ploughmen until about half past 3. The horse teams were unhitched and the 2 Committee teams started back to Wigborough and Mersea, the huge shining Suffolks trotting like ponies, the ploughmen bobbing on their backs.
Got back to the office soon after 4. Walling rather annoyed because I had kept Daphne out so long, but she does so enjoy going out onto the farms.
Went to see Father and told him all about the match. He seemed very well. Left the town at 6, and cycled to the Roses’ at Boxted. Dodo Rose told me that E M Delafield, the writer, is dying in Oxfordshire. I have enjoyed her writing for many years.
Was again overcome with sleepiness, and finally curled up in the blankets. Fine and starlight, but few planes about.