A very rushing day. Mist and high cloud this morning, rather damp. Went over to Wormingford in Young’s lorry, cycle in the back, and put the men on to loading up timber from Ball’s Farm. Got there just in time, as the Americans were about to take everything remaining for firewood. Saw Chief Engineer about the demolition of
Harvey’s Farm, and then cycled
back to Colchester by 11 o’clock. Took Father some apples, back to the office,
and then to Birch for the War Agricultural Committee.
The arrangements of the ploughing match proposed at Olivers were discussed, and the
Chairman was furious because the War Agricultural Executive Committee at Writtle had
tried to take over the whole thing.
Finally agreed that we should carry on without any help from Writtle at
all. It got dark early, and a wet drizzling
mist came up, which I was glad to see, as it probably means a quiet night.
I hate the cat to catch mice, although I know she must, as the place is overrun with them. Tonight she caught and brought one into the sitting room to play with. I tried to hit it with a shoe, but she would not let me, and finished it off in a few minutes. Then she caught another, and there was a most horrible scene as the tiny thing fought back at her. Every time she put it down, instead of running away it staggered towards her, nipping with its tiny jaws, once actually made her cry out. At last after what seemed like hours of squeaking and growling it died and she ate it. A few minutes later she was sitting on my knee, purring.