Bitter, black cold. Misery, but a pleasant day full of surprises. Soon after 10, a charming young woman came in, dark and handsome, in a fur-coat, blue slacks. Said she was a writer and wanted information on the
Fens for a new book. Apparently married to a Frenchman in the
R.A.F. – spoke of the anxieties she suffers when he is over France on low
One of the bakers here uses the old fashioned “hansom” type of 2-wheel carts. Very ugly type, and would imagine not very convenient for delivery work. Two have been converted to pneumatic tyres, and look even worse.
Letter from Captain Folkard today, to say he is leaving the War Agricultural Committee at the end of this month. Very glad I left when I did, as I should certainly not have stayed after him. Don't know who is taking over, but I expect
Fog coming up this evening. Went across the Park to tea at old Edwards’. Groups of shivering Italians standing at the Park gates, children sliding on the frozen canal, people hanging over the bridge, faint blue mist towards the river, the white snow, dogs leaping and barking, the whole scene looking remarkably like Brueghel.
Poor old Edwards rather depressed, but we had a cheerful tea party. After tea went round to the Old Market to see little Dorothy Ellis. Met Miss Morgan, another Welsh teacher from Gwent, very pleasant. A Mr. Stevens, Grammar School Master, came in with his wife, an extraordinarily loud woman. Talked about dancing in the Corn Exchange and that sort of thing.
Unfortunately, the landlady, a Miss Fletcher, came in and was so rude that all conversation came to an end and the party dissolved. Went to the cinema to see “Champagne Charlie”, quite well done.
Got back to the Crescent at 10, and was grudgingly offered supper which I refused. Good mind not to come back here after the weekend. Really must make efforts to get somewhere else to go.