Saturday
While reading at about 1.00am suddenly heard something bumping and scuffling against the window. Looked out to see a sparrow there, standing
on the sill. Opened the window and put
out my hand, but he slipped away in the darkness.
Better night, and not so much
pain as yesterday. Warmer this morning,
and the snow almost gone.
Looked in at the market – big
crowd, but hardly any stock. According
to advertisements, there is supposed to be a market for fat cattle on Mondays,
but I never see any sign of it. People
crowding all over the streets, doing their shopping, walking alone almost
ankle-deep in slush near the Bridge.
Pony carts driving in, and endless streams of cars.
Went to the LMS station and found
there was a train to Peterborough
at 1.27, so decided to go, although not feeling at all well, sickness again.
Hurried to catch the train, but
no train arrived. After nearly half an
hour, enquired what had happened? and was told nothing, trains generally later
than this. Half a dozen growling
passengers on the platforms, stamping their feet to keep warm. Fog stealing up from the sea. At last the 1.29 came in at 5 past 2, and
away we went, through Murrow, Wryde, past the brickworks, and so to the very
edge of Peterborough Station, where we stuck for nearly half an hour in a sea
of rails, trucks, dirty, steaming engines, cold, miserable, and in considerable
pain. Several RAF men jumped out onto
the track, and ran along towards the station regardless of the shouts of the
guard. At long last, when all hope had
been given up, the train slowly moved into the platform, and the
train-announcer called for “L.A.C. Somebody-or-other to report to the Booking
Office.” Probably he was one of the men
who jumped out 20 minutes before. We
were just over 1 hour late in a journey of 20 miles.
Walked outside, and almost at
once saw a noticeboard directing to the Museum, in Priestgate, only a few
hundred yards from the station. It is a
large, massive, stone fronted building, three storeys high, with a Doric
portico, and was formerly a hospital.
The front is propped up with timbers, but whether through age or as a
raid precaution I don’t know. Several
cars were parked under a notice: “Members only Car Park”, these presumably
belonging to members of the Society who own and maintain the Museum. The railings have been taken from the
forecourt, and there is rather an air of decay, but perhaps unavoidable in wartime.
Had to pay 3d to get in, a thing
I always dislike. There was a
green-uniformed attendant at the door, and the whole place was filled with
intense gloom, owing to the foggy day, but there was hardly a light anywhere,
nothing but a few low-watt bulbs under cheap tin shades, hung very high. In most rooms it was literally impossible to
read the labels, but there were not many to read, in any case.
There are some handsome modern
bronze framed cases in the entrance hall, with new internal lighting, but this
was only switched on when a visitor looked at the cases. These hold a good collection of china and
porcelain, and what labels there were are clear and neat.
On the right of the hall is a
room of local archaeology, very dark and dreary, with only 2 small lights, both
painted blue and draped with blue cloth.
These seem decent wall cases, fairly modern, with table cases in
front. In the middle, an island case,
containing Roman, Saxon and Mediaeval pottery all together, labelled as “The Walker Collection”.
At the far end of the room is a
small Roman altar, quite perfect, with no inscription, which is labelled as a
Roman milestone. It was found at Upton . Nearby is a nice little column, beautifully
shaped, about 3’ high, found at Castor-on-Nene, and a finely modelled torso
found at Bannack. All three are of
Bannack stone.
In this same room is the tracery
of a small double window of 13th century date, from a house in
Goodyer’s Yard, destroyed in 1915. A
photo exhibited nearby shows it to have been a most interesting example of an
early domestic building. Scandalous that
it should have been wantonly destroyed.
There are a few stone implements
in three or four cases, - Chelleans from Cromer quite good. Also some of the usual “Flint Jack”
specimens, and, to my surprise, several small implements from the Laver
Collection, from Ipswich , Thame, and
Bathwell. Can't quite see why it was
though appropriate to send these particular specimens to Peterborough .
Several Bronze Age beakers, and a very
fine B.A. collared urn, and some B.A. implements, all local.
And, on one wall, almost covering
it, Landseer’s “Off to the Rescue”.
Upstairs, a long corridor, intensely gloomy, hung with pictures –
water-colours, prints, oils, etc., some local but by no means all. Too dark to see them clearly. Staircase walls hung with large engravings,
etc. Nice lot of the Bucks.
At one end of the corridor is a
small room containing relics of John Clare the mad poet and Worlidge, the
engraver. Nice print specimens.
A large, high, gloomy room, lit
by four tiny electric lights, contains Norman Cross material, very good indeed,
bone, straw-work etc. How very clever
those Frenchmen must have been. There
are also a few uniforms and a dress in the wall cases. Unfortunately most of the labels are very
dirty and practically illegible.
Another small room is devoted to
Mary, Queen of Scots – prints of Fotheringay
Castle etc.
Large “bird-room”. Very depressing, specimens badly
mounted. Among them a flamingo, shot at
Blakeney, Norfolk . Two magnificent fossil crocodiles, from the Oxford clay near Peterborough ,
and the skull of one horn of bos
longifrons. Elephants tusks, teeth,
etc, antlers of the Irish elk, all excellent.
Off this is a tiny ante room, supposed to be for wild plants, but now
unused and very dirty and depressing.
Another tiny room, a mere
cupboard, contains excellent lace and lace-making material, of which there was
a great industry. Wants showing
properly.
Then a “children’s’ room”, with
two fine rocking-horses, dolls’ dresses, dolls, children’s dresses
and so on, and a very fine doll’s house.
In the same room are some Lambeth ware apothecaries’ jars, very nice but
out of place.
There are photos, prints and
drawings in almost every inch of wall-space, but very few labels indeed. On one wall is a plaque in memory of Nurse
Cavell, who was at school here.
At the very top of the building
is a good collection of “folk material” – a plough, costumes (shown in cases
too high), a mangle, hats, smocks, (both very good indeed), Boston Gaol
whipping-post, two branks, a birchrod, (with no labels), an excellent series
of early cameras, including a quarter-plate of about 1860, Gramophones an
Edison Bell phonograph, 1893, with earphones, and a fine lot of musical
instruments. The labels here are good,
and in modern style.
Nice lot of dairy appliances,
model steam plough, hand-tools from the Fens ,
etc.
In what was obviously once a
lavatory, the white tiled walls still remaining, is a landau, used up to 1934,
the last to ply for hire in Peterborough, boneshakers (one for a child), and an old Sunbeam motorcycle, a manual fire-engine, and a set of horse-shoes, without
any labels at all.
The whole collections are really
very fine, and represent the efforts of many years hard work, but the place
obviously needs a great deal of over hauling.
Some fresh paint and some reasonably powerful light bulbs would be most
helpful.
On the other side of the street,
the Cathedral towered up above the shoddy buildings, vague and shadowy in the
gloom. Went through the Norman gateway
into the quiet sanctuary of the cloisters, now nearly full of surface shelters. The west front is enormous, but curiously
squat. Pushed open the door, and heard
the organ playing softly far away down the nave, the music drifting through the
fog slowly and gently, as if the organist was thinking of the remote past. Amazed at the immensity of the Norman
arcades, the pale-coloured stones of which seemed to glow with cold light in
the gloom. Voices echoed afar off in the
choir, and the roof was invisible in the foggy dusk.
Near the West door was a larger
“crib”, flanked by two Christmas trees, and here and there along the aisles are
huge, sizzling coke-stoves. On one wall
saw a monument smashed by the Puritans, just as they left it, and on a column
in the North Aisle, by the choir, is the tablet indicating the first burial
place of Mary, Queen of Scots, two banners hanging over the spot. Saw the fine effigies of the early abbots,
and the so-called “centotaph of the Monks”, a most remarkable piece of
work. Noted with interest that there is
a “Toot hill” on the North side of the Cathedral.
The floor of the choir is marble,
and the High Altar is under a columned marble canopy.
There was nobody in the building
but two vergers and a few children.
Out into the close again and
noticed that some of the buildings on the south side are occupied by Poles,
with “No Entry” notices over the gates and words in Polish chalked up.
Had some trouble to find a café,
but at last got some tea, a slice of ham, and a few pieces of bread and butter,
for which I was charged 3/3. The place
is full of war factory workers, who don't care what they pay for anything.
There are three or four cinemas,
and two theatres, one quite new, called the Embassy, where the Carl Rosa opera
company are at present performing. The
other is a repertory theatre. The
Embassy advertised a pantomime next week.
The place seems to be oddly situated, adjoining the cattle-market, while
a huge modern cinema, a little further along the road, incongruously faces a
line of shoddy villas.
Almost opposite the Embassy is
the Public Library, but I found that the Reference Room is shut for the
duration of war as, according to a notice, it is “being used for educational
purposes”.
The Reading Room shows clearly
that this place is at the beginning of the Midlands – they have Peterborough
papers, London dailies, “Manchester Guardian”, “Birmingham Post”, “Yorkshire
Post”, “Eastern Daily Press” from Norwich, and the weekly “Scotsman” – nothing
from Essex. Read more newspapers in an
hour than I have seen for a week.
To the station – hardly a light,
yet the town lights are quite bright.
Great delay there, and a big crowd waiting. A Leeds
train came in, with a lot of empty carriages, so some RAF men got in. A railway inspector came roaring up and
abused them roundly, shouting and swearing that they must get out, as those
were reserved. Very meekly they did, and
forced themselves and all their equipment into the tightly packed corridors
further up.
The 7.10 eventually left at 8
o’clock, and crawled into Wisbech at a quarter to 9. Crept into the Museum – Miss Thompson already
gone to bed. Hazy, a quiet night.
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