Wakened by the howling wind driving the snow against the window. Quite 3” fell during the night. Lay listening to the chiming of the clocks in the church and the Institute, the two mingling together every quarter hours. At last dragged myself out into the cold at 8.30, rather later than I intended. Found we all have breakfast in the basement kitchen, with no fire.
Busy all day, typing and trying to make sense of the old library catalogue. Heavy showers of snow, with intervals of clear sky. A few ‘planes going over.
Not a soul came in all day. Bitterly cold, but we cannot have the furnace on because the damper has broken.
View from the windows is one of breathtaking beauty – the pure white untrodden square, the lovely sweep of the Crescent, the churchyard, where each tombstone and tree is lined with snow, and snow sticking to every crevasse of the church itself, white over all and a fine net of the falling flakes, falling softly, silently, and seemingly everlastingly. Once again remembered the old rhyme of childhood days:
Nobody about except an occasional hooded figure hurrying with silent steps through the churchyard.
Called at the “White Lion” and got the man who is mending the boiler there to promise to do the Museum boiler as soon as he can. Back to the Crescent to tea. Conversation rather difficult. The daughter here teaches dancing in a sort of bicycle shed in the back yard.
Back to the office until 9. Still snowing hard.
[Pasted into Rudsdale's Journal for this day, was a letter received from
Colonel Round, Chairman of the Essex War Agricultural Committee for Lexden and Winstree, congratulating him on his appointment as Curator of Wisbech Museum and thanking him for his work for the Essex War Agricultural Committee. Colonel Round wrote: “A Tiger cannot change its spots” with reference to Rudsdale's wish to resume his museum career.]