Wednesday
Got up very early – 6.30. Felt a little better, but lungs very full of
phlem. Bright clear starlight, a little
mist, and hard white frost. The little
cat came running across the frozen grass, mewing for its breakfast.
Heart painful, and took an hour
to get in, but got a tow up Gunhill behind a lorry. Trouble all day about Womens Land Army timesheets. The illiteracy of these girls
is appalling. A good many of them are
not more than 4 years out of school, yet they cannot spell the simplest words,
in some cases not even their own names. Captain Folkard seems unwilling to recognise this tremendous illiteracy.
This evening went to Rallings at
5.30 to see a Miss Payne as a prospective housekeeper. Stayed to high tea at Rallings. It is
just a month today that Mother was taken ill, and just a month since the raid
on Ipswich.
There was a thin mist, and a crescent moon, a good night for
raiding. However, we all had supper, and
I finally left at half past 7. Near
Langham Oak I was overtaken by an enormous convoy of heavy guns, crawling along
very slowly, showing enormous headlights and sidelights. I could not get away from it until we got
through Stratford,
and I turned into Higham Lane. All the time signal searchlights were
flashing all around, and I was in a sweat in case enemy planes made an attack
on the convoy while I was in the middle of it.
By this time the stars had vanished and there was quite a thick
fog. Higham Church clock struck 8 as I went by,
and a plane came over, low in the mist.
A minute later there was heavy gunfire to the SE and several planes,
about 6 I should think, came roaring through the clouds. I switched off my cycle lamp and ran into a
field near the cottage where there were corn stacks, and lay down between two
of them. Every moment I expected to hear
the whistle of bombs, especially as the great searchlight just over at Raydon
obligingly kept alight to attract enemy attention. However, I was lucky again, and the noise of
the planes died away to the W.
The Raydon light went out, and I
had a lot of trouble to find where I had left my cycle. Hurried to the cottage, and found the Home Service radio faint, but other wavelengths normal. Went out after a while, and found rain
beginning, and suddenly heard, faint and far, the Ipswich
sirens giving an alarm. Almost at once
Manningtree sounded all clear, and no more planes came. After 4 and a half years of war it is still
impossible to give the alarm signals properly.
Lit a fire, and sat reading until
11. Had bread and milk and went to
bed. Feel ill, but in some way oddly
cheerful. Found a final demand for the Conran’s from Electricity Company threatening to cut off light. Sent on at once, but expect light to fail at
any moment.
