[War Agricultural Committee] Meeting at Birch today. Nothing of much importance.
Terribly cold tonight. A dreadful black night. At St. Botolph’s Corner a woman evangelist stood preaching by the Abbey Wall, her strident voice shrilling out in the dark. The lights of a passing car showed three figures, motionless in the icy wind. In High Street, two nuns were going past the “George”. I saw them faintly in the glow of the doorway, and heard their beads tinkling as they walked.
17th January 1942
I went up this morning to see Sir W. Gurney Benham about my Colchester photos. He was quite vague about them, and did not seem to be particularly interested. He spoke about the Corporation Grading Scheme, and mentioned that Hull had sent him suggestions regarding the Museum staff, but that he, (WGB) had never heard of the scheme. Poor old man, he is breaking up now. I told him it had been passed by the Council at their last meeting. He said “Ah, yes, I expect I have a report about it somewhere in the Minutes. I must read it.” He is 82.
I cycled up there on Daphne’s bicycle. Hervey saw me and said “I see you’re riding the mare today.”
Cutting chaff this afternoon to try and get warm. Also went down to Cannock Mill with the little grey. Much ice on Bourne Road and other by-roads and in the Mill yard. Tick Mason’s little pony and cart was there, the pony a tiny shaggy little thing, even smaller than the grey. A tall, thin man came into the yard, wearing a cap, rough clothes, and rubber boots. He patted both ponies and said “Well, I expect I should feel a bit strange with horses now.” I said, “Why, were you with them once?”
He said “Yes, I was a gentleman’s coachman in London for 19 years before the last war.” We chatted a bit about Tillings, Buchanan’s, W.H. Smith & Co, and he knew them all. It was strange to imagine this worn, shabby looking man had once worn livery and driven a pair from a box seat. He said he was father of young Smith who drives Tucker’s horse in Paxman’s.
We had information today regarding a scheme for immobilising tractors in the event of an invasion, the main part being that in a scare the driver shall notify us daily by postcard as to where he will be next day. This is typical of all the invasion arrangements and suggestions.
I cycled up there on Daphne’s bicycle. Hervey saw me and said “I see you’re riding the mare today.”
Cutting chaff this afternoon to try and get warm. Also went down to Cannock Mill with the little grey. Much ice on Bourne Road and other by-roads and in the Mill yard. Tick Mason’s little pony and cart was there, the pony a tiny shaggy little thing, even smaller than the grey. A tall, thin man came into the yard, wearing a cap, rough clothes, and rubber boots. He patted both ponies and said “Well, I expect I should feel a bit strange with horses now.” I said, “Why, were you with them once?”
He said “Yes, I was a gentleman’s coachman in London for 19 years before the last war.” We chatted a bit about Tillings, Buchanan’s, W.H. Smith & Co, and he knew them all. It was strange to imagine this worn, shabby looking man had once worn livery and driven a pair from a box seat. He said he was father of young Smith who drives Tucker’s horse in Paxman’s.
We had information today regarding a scheme for immobilising tractors in the event of an invasion, the main part being that in a scare the driver shall notify us daily by postcard as to where he will be next day. This is typical of all the invasion arrangements and suggestions.
15th January 1942
It is said that Yarmouth was bombed yesterday, and that there are 40 dead and 200 hurt. Nothing about it in the papers. May or may not be partly true. We have no means of telling.
Felt better today.
Felt better today.
14th January 1942
Terrible night last night. Pain and sickness all night long. Heard every hour strike until seven this morning. Felt bad all day, could hardly do my work.
13th January 1942
Terribly cold, more snow fell last night. Felt very ill, internal chill and pains all over. Surprised to see Maura Benham come into the office this morning, looking very well after her illness. Had tea with her. She seemed in rather an odd mood. Talked of joining the A.T.S. I tried to reason with her, but without success. She said she felt the call of conscience, duty, etc.
Mines going off at Abberton about every ten minutes, last night as well. It is the ice that does it, I think.
Mines going off at Abberton about every ten minutes, last night as well. It is the ice that does it, I think.
11th January 1942: The arrival of snow
Woke up at 9. Cold and sunny, with nothing to show any immediate change in the weather, except that I saw an army lorry come in from the west with snow on the tilt. However, just after 1p.m. the sky clouded over rapidly with thick grey snow-like clouds, and grey fat flakes came whirling down thick and fast.
The weather showed no sign of abating, but I was determined to go to Lawford as I had decided, although I had so much work to do I had better by far of stayed in the town. However, I caught a bus, as cycling seemed out of the question, and away we went, snow falling faster than ever. The driver had to get out quite often to clear the windscreen. When I asked to be set down at the field path past Bargate Lane, he laughed, and said “That’s funny, I never put anyone down there except it rains or snows.”
I set off across the long path, snow not quite so bad, but great grey clouds still rolling across, and the sun shining behind them giving a luminous glow in the west. At the end of the path to Humberlands I met Parrington, Mrs. Belfield, and a handsome young goddess, very pink and blonde, walking back to Birchetts Wood, Snip and Pepper [the Parrington's dogs] gambolling in the snow. The young lady was a Miss Jessup, a prospective Land Girl, who may be coming to Parringtons. We walked as far as the plantation, where the fir trees, growing on the steep slope, heavily laden with snow, made a scene like Canada or Russia. Then I went back to the Mill with Parrington, looking in at the buildings and collecting samples of peas from a stack. At the buildings were pigs, young kerry heifers, and the horses in the stable, all excited as Fred was coming to feed them, so the air was full of squealing, lowing and neighing.
At the Mill, a roaring log fire in the parlour, a lovely farmhouse tea, homemade bread, cream and plum jam.
Sat talking and reading, until supper time, with beautiful mixed broth. Mrs. B. came back to supper. Much talk about Land Girls, advice being asked of me which I could not give. More talk, agricultural in general, War Agricultural Committee in particular. About a quarter to 7 we heard sirens faintly blowing in the distance, but no sound of planes. I think the “All Clear” blew about half past seven. I believe this is the first alarm this year.
I had to catch a bus at Bargate Lane at 8.20, so I walked up Jupes Hill, and had a long wait in the cold as it was late, and spent the time walking up and down trying to keep warm. The bus was fairly full. There was a girl conductor, trying to write her ticket records with frozen fingers. The cold was so intense that there icicles inside the windows. A Guardsman got in at School Corner, wearing full equipment, I suppose going back from leave.
The roads were sheets of ice, and the bus lurched and skidded round corners. We stopped by the dark gloomy trees of Ardleigh churchyard, black against snow covered graves. Some Canadian and English soldiers got in. I heard an Englishman say to a Canadian, “Well, I was in the Territorials, I was called-up two days before the war started, and I’ve only been on the ranges once. Then we fired 25 rounds.”
Back at the Castle 9 o’clock, and took over. Finished a few letters. Dashed out to post them. Hot milk. Bed.
The weather showed no sign of abating, but I was determined to go to Lawford as I had decided, although I had so much work to do I had better by far of stayed in the town. However, I caught a bus, as cycling seemed out of the question, and away we went, snow falling faster than ever. The driver had to get out quite often to clear the windscreen. When I asked to be set down at the field path past Bargate Lane, he laughed, and said “That’s funny, I never put anyone down there except it rains or snows.”
I set off across the long path, snow not quite so bad, but great grey clouds still rolling across, and the sun shining behind them giving a luminous glow in the west. At the end of the path to Humberlands I met Parrington, Mrs. Belfield, and a handsome young goddess, very pink and blonde, walking back to Birchetts Wood, Snip and Pepper [the Parrington's dogs] gambolling in the snow. The young lady was a Miss Jessup, a prospective Land Girl, who may be coming to Parringtons. We walked as far as the plantation, where the fir trees, growing on the steep slope, heavily laden with snow, made a scene like Canada or Russia. Then I went back to the Mill with Parrington, looking in at the buildings and collecting samples of peas from a stack. At the buildings were pigs, young kerry heifers, and the horses in the stable, all excited as Fred was coming to feed them, so the air was full of squealing, lowing and neighing.
At the Mill, a roaring log fire in the parlour, a lovely farmhouse tea, homemade bread, cream and plum jam.
Sat talking and reading, until supper time, with beautiful mixed broth. Mrs. B. came back to supper. Much talk about Land Girls, advice being asked of me which I could not give. More talk, agricultural in general, War Agricultural Committee in particular. About a quarter to 7 we heard sirens faintly blowing in the distance, but no sound of planes. I think the “All Clear” blew about half past seven. I believe this is the first alarm this year.
I had to catch a bus at Bargate Lane at 8.20, so I walked up Jupes Hill, and had a long wait in the cold as it was late, and spent the time walking up and down trying to keep warm. The bus was fairly full. There was a girl conductor, trying to write her ticket records with frozen fingers. The cold was so intense that there icicles inside the windows. A Guardsman got in at School Corner, wearing full equipment, I suppose going back from leave.
The roads were sheets of ice, and the bus lurched and skidded round corners. We stopped by the dark gloomy trees of Ardleigh churchyard, black against snow covered graves. Some Canadian and English soldiers got in. I heard an Englishman say to a Canadian, “Well, I was in the Territorials, I was called-up two days before the war started, and I’ve only been on the ranges once. Then we fired 25 rounds.”
Back at the Castle 9 o’clock, and took over. Finished a few letters. Dashed out to post them. Hot milk. Bed.
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