New Year’s Day, the fifth of the war. Heavy, low clouds streaming before a strong westerly wind. Not so cold as yesterday.
This is the 21st volume of my “Colchester Journal”, which I have kept more or less regularly since January 1st, 1924. Before then, as a child, I had kept a few scrappy records which I wrote in home-made note-books. I am not sure to what extent this volume can be claimed as a
journal, as I am so little in the town that I know very little of what goes
on. I am only happy now when out of Colchester, although I am not happy at Higham owing to
the American beacon, which terrifies me.
The Valley Farm cottage is delightfully remote, almost as remote as a
cottage in far Wales or the Highlands, but alas not remote from aeroplanes, one of
which is humming over now, high up under the glittering stars.
I still have my own money, and have never put a penny into War Savings. I am getting £4.12.6 now, while I only had £3 at the Museum. This cottage costs £3.10.0 per month, but I fear the electric light bill will be heavy. Last year I spent about £15 on my trip to
and Mother’s funeral cost £20, so my savings have diminished a little, but I
think I still have about £170 in the Bank and £70 in superannuation. My pony, harness, carts, trap, books and
other belongings must be worth almost £100.
But what is the use of money or possessions if one is unable to enjoy them? Shall we enjoy anything this year? I doubt it. Saw Poulter this afternoon, and he told me that he had it from a very good source that the betting is even that the war will be over by April 15th, and 2-1 that it will be over by June. Was there ever such nonsense?
Left the town at 5.30, the sky clear for the time being, but more immense black clouds came up from the west. I was glad to see them, as I feel safe only on black, dirty nights. The moon is waxing now, and I fear what may happen here during the next fortnight.