7th February 1943

Sunday

Slept a little from 1am to 6am, then had a meat pie.  Up at 8, and worked in office for an hour.  Fine, the sun coming up reddy gold.  Went home to breakfast, then had a hot bath, exactly like a pre-war Sunday.  Lay in hot water listening to people walking past to church.  The sound of bands in the camp, sun shining, not an aeroplane in the sky, everything just as it used to be except that there were no church-bells.

Had a “Sunday dinner”, then down to Bourne Mill.  Cycled out by way of Boxted.  Some of the wheat looks very well indeed.  Saw the Roses.  He has been promoted, and is now an assistant to Mr. Harris.  I am very glad of this, as he seems so satisfied.  We harnessed the little donkey stallion, for the first time for 6 months, and he went very well and quietly. 

6th February 1943

Saturday

Howling wind, driving rain, and low clouds, but somehow I knew it would not last.  Weather cleared gradually, and by lunch the sun came out.  Just as I felt ready to do an afternoon’s work I became ill, with bad headache, and much sickness.  However, carted hay from Pulford’s.  Only bales available, one quite rotten, for which he will want 12/-.

Had tea at Rallings, in honour of the cat’s first “birthday” – it is just a year since I took him there, thin, starved and nervous.  [See 7th February 1942]  Now he is sleek and fat, and rolls on his back to have his stomach rubbed.

Felt a little better, and had supper in the little café, as I was on duty tonight.  Very good sausages.  Spent the evening in the Holly Trees workshop, searching for spare photographs.  Among others, found a very good one of the wooden effigies in Lt. Horkesley Church, taken by A.G. Wright 40 years ago.  This has been there all the time, quite unknown to me.  Poulter’s negatives are in an awful state.  It is a terrible scandal, because they almost all show excavations or houses now destroyed, and they will be quite useless in a year or two.  Poulter has always refused to take any interest in his negatives, once the photo is taken.  Many are ruined by having chemicals spilled on them.

Authority came today to buy ten horses for the Committee farms at £100 each.  When we get them we shall have in all 22 horses.

On a time-sheet recently one of the men said he had worked at “Norland Farm, East Mersea”.  I had never heard of the place, but on asking Baldwin I hear it is an “old name” for Reeves Hall, which was always known by that name when he was a boy.  There is no reference to it in Reaney's 'Place Names'.

The Chairman was in this morning, and mentioned that it was now widely rumoured that the aerodrome at Birch was to be abandoned.  There have been 800 Americans there, but they have now left.  It is apparently believed that the whole strategy of the war has been altered by Churchill’s visit to Casablanca, and that the allies will now invade Italy or Greece.  I sincerely hope it is true that these landing grounds will not be used, as I fear their presence so near to Colchester may lead to very great damage being done to the town when the enemy attacks them.

5th February 1943

Friday

Cloudy and raining.  Heard this morning that bombs fell near Weeley last night, during the short alarm, and that all the lights were put out, so I suppose the cables were damaged.  When I saw Sisson this evening he told me that a land-mine had fallen at Thorpe, damaging shops, houses, and the church, but I am not sure if this is true or not.

Left early this afternoon, and cycled out by the Ipswich Road.  Saw Everett’s horses, tandem, hauling timber, and just behind another tandem team going into the yard at Roverstye, the carter sitting on one horse and driving the leader.  The aerodrome advances more and more.  Called on Sissons, and gave them the news about Poulter. 

Frank Girling called in this evening for coffee, after a “Discussion Group” meeting.  Talk about War Agricultural Committee work.  It seems that while in Essex we forbid farmers to grow oats over and above their actual needs for their own stock, across the river in Suffolk farmers are ordered to set oats on 15% of their arable land!  What lunacy.  How can any farmer respect the organisation that can do this?

Thankful to hear the wind getting stronger.  Hope the clouds will all be gone by tomorrow.

Mice running about above the ceiling tonight, squeaking and fighting.

4th February 1943

Thursday

Another lovely day, bright sun, and only a few cloudy intervals.  Mr. Fletcher, the Managing Clerk from Writtle, came down this morning, and made an inspection of Dr. Payne’s house.  He is a very pleasant man, not much older than myself, and I got on very well with him.  He fully agreed that we must have further accommodation as soon as possible, and was quite favourably impressed by Payne’s house.  We spoke of staff problems, and he warned me that we might shortly expect a visit from a Mr. Hill, of the Man Power Board, who would be investigating the work of all persons, male and female, of military age.  This does not sound very good, especially as Mr. Hill is described as being a “bit of a swine”.  Well, if the worst comes, I’ve had a very long run, nearly 3 and a half years, and I have a lot to be grateful for.

Had lunch with Fletcher at Rose’s café, a very good lunch, too.  It seems he has recently come from Spain, where he lived for several years.

Cycled home by way of Crockleford and Ardleigh Park, in what might have been a Spring evening.  Land looking very well.  This evening started reading the Torrington Diaries.  Much noise under my window where Joy and Snip were rat-hunting in the dark.

  

A short alarm, just before nine, and I heard a plane come over, but nothing happened.  There was no gunfire. 

Wind raging now, and rain beginning.  Not very cold, however.

3rd February 1943

Wednesday

Cloudy, then a lovely fine day.  A little cooler than yesterday, but wonderfully mild for the time of year.  This morning met Councillor Lu Marden, the landlord of the “Albert”, a sad, depressed looking man, and inspected Dr. Payne’s house with him.  I cannot quite understand why he should want to buy this enormous house and then immediately let it for offices, but that seems to be his idea.  We went all over the place, a huge late Victorian barrack, on the corner of Queen’s Road and Victoria Road.  It is built of yellow brick, two storeys and attics, and has no architectural interest.  Dr. Payne will keep the surgery etc, and we shall have about 10 rooms for our use.  There is a large basement – I was most amused when Marden said “You’d better see the basement” and I said “Well, I don't know, I suppose I might as well …” both of us knowing that the other was thinking of air raids.  Somebody had apparently been sleeping down there, for in a narrow passage was a bed, with a tin “jerry” standing on it.  Nearby was a tiny cupboard, no windows or ventilation, quite black and airless, containing a canvas garden chair.  On the inside of the door was a pencil written list, headed “Air Raids, 1940”, giving the times of every alarm from the summer of 1940 all through the following winter.  Some poor thing must have gone down to this tiny “dugout” every time the alarm sounded, and sat there all alone, waiting for the all-clear.  A pencil hung from a nail on the door.

I believe this place will be a very suitable office.  There is plenty of room for cars, but unfortunately no stable; however I think I can find one nearby.  If we take the place, it will mean that I have to sever another link with the Museum, at a bad time, too.

This afternoon there was a phone call from the Royal Free Hospital, London, to say that Poulter must come at once.  It came on our phone, and I took it.  We had a long talk with London as to whether he could have a private ward.  The charming female voice at the other end regretted that he couldn’t, but urged that he should come without delay.  He said he would.  Poulter then told me that Hull was ill in bed and would not be in for some time.  What on earth is to happen to the Museum?

Councillor Blomfield phoned, and said he was very angry with Hull, and that he had been to the Chairman about it.  The Chairman was sufficiently roused from the apathy of age to write Hull a strong letter, asking (in effect) when the devil he was going to attend to his duties at the Museum.  Hull replied he was ill.  He was certainly well enough to be in the Cross Keys on Sunday.  

I feel everything has come upon us at once.  I never thought that a time would come when we should be without Poulter and yet still have Hull.  I always felt in my heart that at last Hull would be dismissed, and that Poulter and I would run the Museum between us.  Now, Poulter and I are both gone, and it is Hull who remains supreme, undisputed ruler of the whole Museum.  What can the future be?

All this made me very late, and it was 6 o’clock when I cycled away.  Even so, I managed to reach Lawford without using my lamps.  The evenings have suddenly begun to get quite light.  A rain shower passed over as I went through Parson’s Heath and Fox Street.  The falling streaks of rain looked very pretty against an orange sunset.  Called at Spring Gate, but Molly Blomfield was not there.  She is still ill in bed at Trinity St.  How saddening is all this illness and disease.

2nd February 1943

Tuesday

Up at 7.  Heavy rain and high wind, but some signs that the sky was clearing.  Cycled in, got rather wet.  Clear blue sky by 10 o’clock. 

Lovely light evening – hardly dark at 7 o’clock.  Went home, fed Bob, and then round by way of Dedham to tell the Sissons about Poulter.  They were very disturbed, and think that the future looks very bad for him.  He came up into the office this afternoon, very bright and cheerful.  Hull has not been seen today.

1st February 1943

Monday

The first month of the New Year gone almost before we are accustomed to writing “1943”.

Awake almost all night by the violence of the wind.  Up at 6.30, and caught the 7.30 bus.  It was pitch dark, and the wind so strong I could hardly stand.  To my surprise, the clouds cleared, and by 8 o’clock the sun was coming up in a yellow haze.  Went to Holly Trees, but could not find the Castle keys.  Noticed that one of the front windows of the Castle had been left open all night, so that there was a pool of water in the Pre-historic Room.  Went on the roof, but could see no sign of any damage.  Went to office and opened mail.  Told Poulter that keys were missing; he expressed no surprise, but said that Attendant Rising had been unable to get in yesterday afternoon.  Hull apparently opened the door at 5a.m. yesterday, when he came off Observer Duty, and neither he nor the keys have been seen since.  He was doing Harding’s morning duty, and should have remained until 2 o’clock, but he was not there when Rising came, and was seen by Draycott drinking in the Cross Keys sometime after midday.  Draycott happened to meet Poulter, and told him.

  

Came out on the 5.15 bus.  It was a very old type, much more comfortable than modern buses, with fine, large windows, which gave a fine view.  The seats were not sprung and were flat, like carriage seats, so that there was none of the awful discomfort by vibration.  Also, the rear seats were made slightly higher than those in front, so that all the passengers had a view.  In modern buses the seat backs are so high that it is impossible to see over them, and the windows are so tiny that one can see nothing out of them.  Public-vehicle designs have got steadily worse every year since horse-buses were given up.

There were three or four Poles on the bus, one reading a Polish paper.  

Lovely clear night until 10, then heavy rain and high wind again.  The winter corn will begin to go off very soon.  Spent some while this evening on the hill behind the house, looking for the comet which is now near the Plough, but could see no sign of it.