Thursday
Tremendous upheaval during the
night. About 1am awakened by kicking
of doors, shouting, and continual ringing of the back-door bell. Jumped up, thinking that at least the place
was on fire. Then heard American voices,
followed by a terrific assault on the back door, just below my window. Apparently these two had been out with girls,
and had only just arrived back. The
noise became worse, and I heard people stirring in other rooms all along the
corridor, but nobody went downstairs. At last
their footsteps went away down the yard, and I thought they had given up, but
no, they had only gone round to the front to begin another assault there.
All this must have gone on for at
least half an hour, but silence came at last.
Tried to doze off, but could not, so lay and read Cobbett, (a lovely
copy from the Museum's Townsend Library), and ate some cheese. Just as I was falling into a doze, about 2,
damn me if they didn't come back and start all over again. I was contemplating some really drastic
action when I heard Boots go down and let them in. Peace.
This morning clear blue sky,
bitterly cold N.W. wind, freezing hard.
Great committee meeting in the Coffee Room at breakfast about the
disturbance in the night. Learing speculations on the part of commercials
as to how one occupies oneself in Wisbech until one o’clock in the
morning. Mrs Smith reported back door
cracked, front door covered with boot marks.
So much excitement about this
that nobody mentioned flying-bombs, but heard two little girls skipping along
to school shouting “Doodle-bugs!
Doodle-bugs!” That the New England name for a lady-bird should be given to a
flying bomb is a typical English inanity.
Received membership from the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings today, as I am now joining at Sisson’s suggestion. Have to sign an impressive manifesto to the
effect that I disapprove of all restoration work done on ancient buildings. Do I?
This afternoon in the Library,
sorting prints and drawings. There seem
to be thousands of them, all tied up in different parcels. About 5 it began to snow.
New “commercial” in at dinner
tonight, talking about the flying bombs in the north. Mentioned the one which fell at Didsbury,
which apparently killed nobody, and said there was another not far from
Nottingham as well as Sheffield, and that there were “rare-to-dos” as the
warnings were all very late and that practically all the Civil Defence people
have gone from those districts. This man
who was speaking lives near Stockport . He did not seem to be very impressed with the
diver raid, and had a good deal more to say about the earthquake which followed
a few days later. At Sheffield
the whole city shook, and there was a great roaring sound. Many people though that a new bomb had
fallen.
A lot of people are very amused
at the idea of flying bombs in the Midlands ,
as they think it only right that the people up there shall get a taste. To me it is most depressing to think that
these wretched things must have fallen within 40 miles of the Welsh border, not
much more than 50 miles from Llangollen.
If I go to stay at Ty’n-y-Wenn again I shall be looking up the valley
and listening for the thump of a diver, instead of relaxing into deep
sleep. To think too that never again a
blissful weekend at Alderley Edge, when nothing but the wind out of Wales would
come to rattle the windows.
Obviously this business was
merely an experiment, and God knows what may be expected before the year is
out. What can possibly be the end of it
all? Where must we go? Lleyn?
Wester Ross? Hebrides ? Man?
Heard people saying that the
diver which was seen last night fell some four miles beyond Peterborough , on the Oundle Road . Wonder if it was intended for Peterborough or whether
it was an accident. What frightful
surprises there are in store for people in these Midland
towns. After all, Northampton
is only 40 miles beyond Peterborough .
Back to the Museum at 6.30, snow
falling heavily, the flakes glittering in the light of the lamp at the corner
of the square. Wrote letters, and wondered
if there would be an attack in the snow, but nothing happened. Called at Mrs Shepherd’s, 3 The Crescent,
almost opposite the Museum, to see if I could get permanent rooms there, and
succeeded. She is to charge £2-2-0 a
week, with meals, as against £3-17-0 at the White Lion. Got a nice little room, 3 floors up. Felt a little nervous about raids, but can
always make the excuse to go down to see to the Museum. It is a charming little house from the
outside, Regency, about 1810.
As I went back to the hotel at
9.30 the snow was still falling, nearly 2” deep. Moon rises at half past eleven, so I think we
are safe for tonight.
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