9th September 1944

Saturday

Up early, excellent night.  Lovely cool day.

 

In office until nearly 2, then out to the Library and to Holly Trees.  Poulter very low and depressed.  He is due to retire next year, and views the future with gloom and foreboding.  In view of his great services to the Museum he ought to be allowed to remain in the Holly Trees rooms until he dies.  Poulter was permitted to stay at Hollytrees and remained there until his death in 1962.

To Boxted at 4.15pm, saw the new people who are coming into Woodside, then rushed to get to the Post at 5.  On the way, round by the “Queen’s”, noticed one or two pessimists who are not impressed by the cheerful views of the newspapers – they are only now putting up air-raid shelters.   

Dull evening on the Post, nothing about, then back to Woodside for supper.  Bed at 11, reading happily for an hour.

8th September 1944

Friday

Fine, cool, and then began to get warmer.  Harvest may be saved yet.  The press today now tells us definitely that the danger from ‘divers’ ought to end within a fortnight.  Find it very hard to believe.  Allied advance is being slowed down, but quite a lot of people think the war will end in October or November.  How curious if it should end while I am on holiday.  News now reported of enormous danger done to Staple Inn, Holborn, a terrible disaster.  Sisson used to have rooms there before the war.

This evening went to see “Gone With The Wind”.  A really magnificent show.  Did not get out until nearly 10.  The American Civil War fascinates me.  As a general rule, people do not realise that it was one of the most terrible wars in history.

Bed at 11, hoping for a quiet night.

7th September 1944

Thursday
Pouring wet day, with dirty black clouds scudding along from the NE.  Very cold.  All the unthatched stacks sopping, and the eaves dismally dripping, gutters gurgling mournfully.  Not a ‘plane anywhere in the sky. 

Diana has come back from holiday, so crept out and up to the Repertory workshop to see her.  She looked wonderfully well and utterly charming.  We made some coffee on the gas-ring and arranged to see her for tea.  Ran into Joe Percival in the High Street.  Told him how sorry I was that he was leaving, and the manner of it.  He made some vague and rather guarded insinuations against Frank Warren, who is of course the main source of the trouble, and also that the Chairman had supported Frank Warren’s irregularities.  Hard to believe this, but of course the old man is so violent in his likes and dislikes that some position may have arisen from which he cannot extricate himself decently.

More labour troubles this afternoon.  Engledow down again from Writtle, and much long violent argument about the Women's Land Army “basic wage”.  The pay people here are nearly out of their minds trying to cope with the idiotic insanities of Writtle on the subject of WLA pay. 

While Engledow was here another row blew up – one of the girls who was “disciplined” last week now complains that the foreman Cutting has called her a prostitute.  Engledow furious – “No man shall talk to a girl like that if I know it.”  To hell with the harvest.

Crept quietly out, and met Di at 4.  Had tea at the “Wishbone”, the only place open.  Had not been there since the days of Rose Browne, when the little cat had kittens on my mackintosh.

6th September 1944

Wednesday
Sirens at 4am in bright moonlight.  Can this really be the end of the war?  All the papers tell us that it is.  If so, Colchester has had a wonderful escape.

Busy all day, endless memos.  The whole office ought to go out into the harvest fields.  Told Capt. Folkard, but he only laughed.

Post again at 9pm.  Not many ‘planes.  Page was on with me, earnestly expecting a ‘diver’ all night, but nothing came.  Cloudy, and the moon rising behind.  At 1am felt restless, and cycled to Wormingford and back, then bed at 3.  The clouded moon made a strange half-light, like a dream.  But then the whole existence we lead now is indeed like a dream.

5th September 1944

Tuesday

At office, Snowball says 3 ‘divers’ crashed on or near Ipswich, and 2 old Junkers full of explosives are said to have fallen at Martlesham.  Another “diver” which fell on the Gainsborough Estate last week killed 3 and injured 20.  One of this morning’s lot fell near the top of Dedham Gun Hill without damage.

 The curate of St. Mary-at-the-Walls called, to ask me to address the young people’s club on the history of that parish in November.  Agreed, reluctantly to do so.

Better weather today, but have only just heard that we still have some oats out!  No ordinary farmer has any idea of the difficulties under which the War Agricultural Committee’s have to work.

3rd September 1944

Sunday

Fine morning, dull afternoon, then a S.W. gale with heavy rain.  Watched from my bedroom window a magpie and some wood-pigeons in the wood. 

This afternoon to Dedham.  Admired Clover’s immense Essex pigs, in the paddocks near the Mill.  Had tea at the café.  Walked round the Mill pool and above the lock.  Wreck of an old barge there, surely old enough to have existed in Constable’s time.

No sign of the Sissons anywhere, so went slowly along Pond Lane, saw several partridges scurrying across the road, and three swans flying W. at a great height.  Ate a lot of blackberries. 

Cycled slowly over towards Horkesley, called at Lt Rivers, but Dodo very sickly again.  Went on to Post at 9 – still short-handed, so we all have to do an extra duty.  Would cry-off if I dared.  Carter was on with me, so we had a pleasant hour or two talking farming, ghosts, witches, etc.  Wet, windy night, moon racing among clouds.  Not a ‘plane over.

New had to relieve us but was very late, so I stayed on as Carter had to be at work at 7 and I don't.  Finally got away at 1.30, bed soon after 2, too tired to undress.

As I was listening to radio music this morning, thought how it is just 5 years, at this very hour, and on a Sunday too, that I heard Chamberlain’s voice on a radio from a house in Mill Road, Mile End, and a man’s voice called out “It’s come, mate!”

1st September 1944

Friday

Thunderbolts roaring past the bedroom window, sun glistening on their wings.  Miss Bentley said at breakfast there had been an alarm at 2am, which I missed.  There was another alarm at 1pm, as I came out of the office, so went to a milk bar instead of to lunch.

Later called at home, and throwing open the front door, surprised dear old Father with his arm round Miss Payne.  Dear old chap – nearly 72!  Saw Jane Ralling across the road, and then went to cinema to see “Breed”, pandering to my weakness for cowboy films.  Then went up to Sussex Road Women's Land Army Hostel with some money for absent girls.  Saw Emmison the farrier in Lexden Road.  He seems very happy.  Boxted at 9.30pm.  Felt much indecision as to whether to go out again or not.  Finally got to bed at 12.30.

News on the radio very good today.  No mention of flying bombs at all.