24th February 1945
Brilliant morning. Regretted I had not gone to
after all. Crowds in the streets, even
at 9 in the morning, and no hope of getting a badly needed haircut. Am beginning to look more and more like a
gentleman of the 1840’s. At ten o’clock,
the siren made its weekly trial, not having sounded in earnest since the
beginning of January.
Got my agenda out for next Monday week, so as to have nothing to worry about while away. Ald. Girling came in, in answer to a note of mine, and settled for Edwards’ typewriter, for which we are paying him £15. Rather startled when he told me that Edwards has been co-opted onto the Committee – which I think is most unfair to me. How can I make reports or suggestions with the former Curator sitting by my side? Had occurred to me that the old chap ought to be elected an Hon. Life Member of the institution, but it is almost indecent to put him on the Committee. Girling I find a very harsh and unsympathetic character, and dear old Guy Pearson is really beyond very much work.
Early lunch, the café packed with farmers and their wives, squalling children everywhere, adolescent girls with Americans.
Went out and bought the week’s rations – second week I have managed to get, as the “White Lion” people apparently don't need my book.
This evening went to Swift’s. Showed him two maps of the
Wash in 1824, a town-plan of Wisbech,
1853. Back in moonlight, one or two
‘planes going over low, with navigation lights.
Crowds coming out of the pubs, Norfolk
Street a solid mass of screaming drunken
Alone in the lounge for an hour and then to bed.
Very odd dream in the early hours of this morning – confused figures, and then a voice saying very clearly “Ring Wisbech 58”. Who is Wisbech 58? Very much tempted to ring up and ask.