8th March 1943

Monday

Glorious morning.  Saw in the “Times” that there was an attack on the S.E. coast yesterday, in brilliant sunshine, by 12 planes, of which only two were brought down.  Ten people dead, and great damage.  So even in the finest weather we are not safe.

Committee this afternoon.  Nothing special.  Out at 6.  Came back to Colchester with Mr. Page, got there just after an alarm, which had lasted about 10 minutes.  Saw a very elderly warden leaving the Post at Drury Road corner.

Joy told me tonight that Dorothy died just before 6 this morning.  What a tragedy.  A young couple, far from all war dangers, in secure work, and the girl looking so strong and healthy dies like this.  Poor Fred must be in a terrible way.

Joy told me that the railway men in the village are saying that the damage last Wednesday was as great up the line as in any of the raids two years ago.  It this is true, the papers have been lying even more than usual.  Poulter says the line was still shut on Saturday afternoon, and there was a bus service from Shenfield to Ingatestone.  One of the Harwich men who was killed, the fireman, was uncle of the boy who drives Joy’s salvage van on Wednesdays.  The deaths of these men were mentioned in the “East Anglian [Daily Times]”, but there was no hint that they had been on a train. 

Bombs had fallen on the main line near Ingatestone in Essex on 3rd March 1943 and a passenger train from London to Harwich fell into the bomb crater killing both the driver and fireman.  More details on this tragedy appear in E.J. Rudsdale's book.  CP

7th March 1943

Sunday

Reading in Muniment Room until 1.30, then to the Oven [in the Castle] and to bed.  Very cold.  This morning bright and sunny, although there were clouds last night.  Home to breakfast, then a bath.  After lunch, down to Bourne Mill, and was surprised to hear an alarm at about half past one, in brilliant sunshine.  Several RAF planes about, but nothing happened.  All-Clear at 2.  Curious how many alarms here last about half an hour.

Called at Holly Trees, and then over to Boxted.  Along the Boxted Straight Road, several small holders working in their fields.  To the Roses and had tea.  Baby did not seem very well.  Went on to Dedham, saw Mrs. Sisson and gave a report of Poulter, then to Lawford at 6.30.  Lovely night, but few planes about.

6th March 1943

Saturday

Another lovely morning.  How much is this fine weather appreciated.  Took 6 eggs in for Poulter.  Went down to Mersea with Nott.  North Farm looks very well now, with the yard full of bullocks, and new thatch on the roofs.  Wish I could spend more time down there.  Mrs. Johnson gave me a dozen eggs and 4 packets of chocolate.  Can't understand how she comes by so much.  Had to hurry back, and could not go down to see the new horses.  Called on the harness maker at Abberton, to ask if he would like to make a contract to repair all our harness, but he refused, saying he had enough work already.  It is almost impossible to help these men.  (We bought 10 more sets today, from the Bury dealer).

Home to lunch, then to stables.  Suddenly decided to cycle to Fingringhoe.  Very pleasant ride.  Called on Grubb, to find her in as big a muddle as ever.  Old Blackie looks very bad, and can hardly eat now.  He will never see another spring.  The younger horses looked quite well, and ought to be broken into harness, but Grubb is too feeble to attempt it.

Cycled back by Rowhedge, and then along the river-wall.  I don't know how many years it is since I was that way.  The small drifters being built in the Rowhedge yards, and the tower of Wivenhoe Church showing up round the bend of the river.  A train came along from Colchester, the white smoke showing up against the steep fields behind the line.  How many hundred times have I travelled that line to and from Walton and Frinton?  I remember the first holiday we spent there in 1919, after the last war.  How long ago.  Never again, I suppose.

And so along by the Sewage Works, cattle on the marshes, every now and then a concrete pill box, sea birds wheeling and crying.  The ancient barge wreck still sticks out of the mud near Old Hythe meadow.  At the Hythe, a steam boat called “Spirality” unloading coal at the Gas Works.  One of the crew was cutting a man’s hair at the stern.  Got to Hythe Church just after 5.  Sparling’s nice cob came trotting down with the bread van.

Home to tea, then got rations, fed Bob, and went up to Culver Street for supper.  Went into Holly Trees at 8.  No sign of Poulter.  An alarm just before 9, which I had half expected to come.  I felt anxious more than frightened.  Went over to the Castle.  There was a searchlight south of the town, but no planes or guns to be heard.  Many cars and buses going up the street, all with very bright lights.

The woman who always comes into the Vaults from Queen Street was there, just inside the gateway, talking to one of the firewatchers about the hopelessness of the British defences.  She said the Germans were much better defended than we were, and were always bringing down British planes, “and how many do we bring down?  Three!” (Referring to the two raids on Wednesday – Thursday).  The man agreed, and said “They can do just as they like over here, it seems.”

I waited in Wheeley’s Passage, which I feel sure ought to be the safest place in the building, and examined again the joint between the Roman and Norman work.  I remember being shown it by A.G. Wright, some 20 years ago, never thinking of the circumstances I should one day be looking at it.  The air of the vaults has a queer smell, and reminds me of those long nights in 1940.   Funny that I should be more frightened now than I was then, as it is always assumed that one becomes hardened to danger as time goes on.

The all-clear came before 9.30, and I was glad, as it would let the old people at home go to bed peacefully.

Went back to Holly Trees, to find Poulter had come in and had gone to bed.  How he can calmly go to bed on the top floor in the middle of an alarm I do not know.  Old Septimus Alexander, 70 years old, goes up onto the roof every time.

Poulter seemed rather better.  The surgeon told him this morning that the growth was reacting slightly to the rays, and that his chances had improved.  We had a general chat.  He told me that the Tube disaster on Wednesday was at Bethnal Green.  Must have been a tremendous panic.

I have recently been hearing faint noises, especially when sitting in the Muniment Room, like people talking very quietly.  Most curious.  Ghosts?

5th March 1943

Friday

Fog early, very cold.  Then it cleared, and the sun came out. 

Very busy all day.  The office is very difficult to run now that we are so overcrowded.  Diana Davis came in this afternoon to enquire about Poulter and to get advice about her Ministry of Labour registration.  I made a faux pas by inferring that she was over 30, when she is actually only 21.  However, went out at 4.30 and gave her tea.

Cycled out at 6.30.  Lovely calm evening.  Streets full of people strolling uptown to cinemas or repertory theatre.  Two barges in at Marriage’s Mill, loading up flour.  Went by the Ipswich Road.  American sentry by the huts at Whitehouse Farm, called out “Good evening!” to me as I went past.  Tractors and horses drilling and harrowing in several fields.  Sun sinking crimson into a fog-bank.

   

Tonight very quiet.  Few planes about.  Writing till 10.30.

4th March 1943

Thursday

Wakened by firing at 5 o’clock, and after 10 minutes or so heard sirens, but it did not last long.  The dogs barked incessantly.  Up at 7, to find clouds, but the sun coming through.  Worried as to whether anything had happened at Colchester last night, so went early, and went by the Hythe and through New Town, to see all was well at the old house.  Looked for a casualty board at the Library, but nothing there.  Nobody at the office seemed to have had any alarming experiences, except that Daphne said showers of splinters fell in Layer Road.  Later, Dyer came back from Layer de la Haye, and said several small bombs had fallen near the Reservoir, on Hill Farm Land, but without damage.  Everybody reports lots of shell cases all over the place, especially at Copford.  Capt Folkard said a plane was brought down at Horkesley by the Colchester Home Guard, but I don't know if this is true.

Came out at 5.15 and went to the Hippodrome to see “My Sister Eileen”, a most amusing, jolly, film, so far removed from our present life, although several characters mentioned the war, and one man said he was an air-raid warden.  But it is one thing to talk about a war 3,000 miles away, and another to be in it.

Cycled back in the dusk, birds singing, lovely golden sunset.  Tractors working in the fields. 

Mr. Warren came in this afternoon on his way from Ipswich, and said he had bought 4 Suffolk horses for £502.  Only two in the whole sale were under £100, and several geldings made £200.  One made £250, and a two-year old filly brought in £310.  Such figures as this do not seem to indicate any immediate decay in horseflesh.  I expect we shall have trouble with headquarters about these purchases, as we were not supposed to exceed £100 per horse.  It is a strange thing if the Government cannot buy good horses for their own farms.

No sign of a break in the fine weather.  Spring drilling going ahead even at Peldon.

3rd March 1943

Wednesday

Colder, S.E. wind, and rather cloudy.  However, no alarms during the day.  Home to lunch.  Mother seems rather brisker.  Old Mr. Rose, next door, the “philanthropist”, is very ill.  He has given a good many thousands to almshouses and hospitals, but they say he is a terribly bad employer.

Went down to Bruce’s at the Hythe, about building new trollies for this harvest.  There was a very battered lorry there, being repaired, and I was told it cost £700 six months ago, and was bought by a man to run gravel to the aerodromes at £30 a week.  It will be worn out in another three months, then he will buy another.

Cycled back to Ardleigh Park.  Dear old man near the station, riding a curious tricycle with two wheels in front and one behind, his dinner basket and blue enamel can hanging on the handle-bars.  Went along Humberlands drive, and saw Robin at the buildings, looking very fit indeed.

  

Bed at 10.30, rather tired so did not do much writing.

2nd March 1943

Fine.  Warm S.W. wind.  Went home to lunch.  Mother not very well, rather mopey.  Joy told me last night old Mrs. Fletcher, the policeman’s mother, walks ever week from Stoke-by-Nayland to Lawford and then back the next week, at the age of 75.  I wish my Mother was as hale and hearty as this. 

Went down the North tonight, to identify an old photograph which I recently found.  I went along by Mercer’s farm, along the footpath by the brickworks, where we had such wonderful finds ten or 12 years ago.  All is deserted now, covered with bushes and brambles, and old Woods dead.  This was one of the last little brick-fields in this neighbourhood.  Then I went across the railway, along the track to Turner Road.  It is many years since I was across there.  It is very desolate and lonely, yet so near the town.  There is a little red brick cottage along there, which has a wonderful view right across the valley.  I should like to live there in peacetime.

Met an old policeman in Turner Road, and showed him the photo, which he at once identified as showing Mile End Hill, about 40 years ago.  I was quite puzzled by it, as the scene had changed so much. 

Along Mill Road, where new telephone poles for the aerodrome are being put up.  Cut through Flood Lane, now made up with concrete.  This is not of course a public road, but nobody stopped me, as there were plenty of workmen cycling away, and I looked very much like one of them.  The Americans have arrived, and there was a sentry halfway along the lane, a little dark man in working uniform with the German-like steel helmet.

This evening writing.  Had a note from Poulter today, to say that Wire’s Morant has not been sent to London.  I suppose it must be in the Castle.