Wednesday
Dull, but warm. Read in the “East Anglian” this morning of a tremendous raid on Yarmouth
The sun came out later. How we worship the great fiery disc – Solus Invictus, Helios, Ra-harmanchis. How much braver we feel under his warming rays. Yet how misled we were all last winter, when we longed for his return to frighten the Germans away. Now he is here, but they still come. In winter we were told “You can't expect us to do anything on cloudy days, we can't see the ‘planes.” Now they say “There’s nothing we can do – the sun’s in our eyes.”
Very busy all day. Labour is a great problem. Mrs. Voake is quite useless with the girls. Hear that the Women's Land Army have requisitioned “Orleans ” at West Mersea for a hostel – simply stuck a notice on the gate. The old lady who lives there is furious, but apparently she has no redress.
Called at Sissons’ on the way out. Mrs. S. is now quite recovered. Talk about Bourne Mill. It seems that the National Trust are quite determined to take all the machinery out. It seems rather a pity, but I suppose there is nothing else for it. The suggestion was made that it should be turned into a house and that I might like to live there. Rather an attractive idea. Sisson is quite convinced that the place was never built as a mill, and I suppose he must be right. In that case, the original mill may have been a wooden building at the south end of the mill-dam, where the old overflow is. They could get carts there along the top of the dam.
[The machinery at Bourne Mill was saved and is still in place today].
Dozed off at half past 10, but awakened in about an hour by guns. Several ‘planes about, but nothing very near. For a time mistook the snoring of a dog downstairs for a ‘plane and wondered why nobody fired at it.
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