Another glorious fine day. Working in Library again. A delightful surprise by the second post – a cheque from Colchester Corporation for £100-12-1, my superannuation refund, quite £30 more than I expected. Felt quite overjoyed, relieved, delighted, yet what this really means is that I now have no pension, and must die in miserable old age in some workhouse, just as my mother did.
This evening went round to
and saw Mrs. Burnett, a very pleasant woman, who was most willing to let me
have a room – obviously Jessie Swift had fixed the whole business. Arranged to go there the week after
next. She charges £3.3, all in. At the moment only one other boarder, Miss
Dorothy Brewer, Headmistress of the Queen’s School, very tall and handsome, and
remarkably young to be a headmistress.
Jones, the deputy surveyor, has been there too, and is just leaving. He was in this evening, so stayed talking to
him and Mrs. Burnett about Wisbech affairs. He
tells me he is sure Ollard wil never relinquish his hold on the Museum rooms
until he is absolutely forced to do so.
“Colchester Gazette” came today – young Turner, the submarine commander is dead. Now three of them are gone. His brother was torpedoed while being taken as a prisoner to
Italy, by a
British submarine. Often wondered if it
was his brother’s.