Wednesday
Fine morning. No alarm during the night. Had meant to go to Lawford for breakfast, but
was not early enough. Got in by 9. Busy, but rushed out to call at Trinity St . Molly Blomfield looked dreadfully ill, and I am sure she
will have a breakdown. Her mother was in
the back kitchen but I did not speak to her.
Mother’s birthday - called at home. Ella [Rudsdale's cousin] was
there. Had a cup of tea, and back to the
office. Early lunch, and then went off
with Dyer to Lt. Oakley Hall to see some horses. Lovely afternoon, most enjoyable ride through
Tendring Hundred, by Horsley Cross and Wix.
Can't remember that I have ever been to Oakley before. Several bomb damaged houses about. Lt. Oakley Hall in a bad state. The buildings here have been partly repaired,
but nothing done to the house and the new tenant has to lodge in the
village. He is a Scotsman called
Strachan. Fancy leaving Scotland
for the east coast. Three Essex War Agricultural Committee tractors
working, ploughing and driving for Strachan, driven by Women's Land Army girls. Ploughing done very badly, less than 3” deep.
Saw the so-called Suffolk horses – one Shire
mare, one Clydesdale (lame to both front feet), a rough chestnut, broken winded, and an old Belgian. They were a
very poor lot, but we chose the best of a bad bunch – the grey shire mare, Duchess,
and the Belgian Bill.
Lovely view from the farm, the
sea glistening in the distance, Harwich balloons lying limp in the blue sky,
the yellow shore by Landgard, the Naze, with old Trinity House Tower, the
Backwater, Horsey Island.
Coming bank, we intended to call
at Hooks’ place to arrange transport of the horses but just as we got to the
crossroads in the village, the car failed, and nothing we could do would make
it start. It resisted every attempt with that dull immovable air peculiar to cars which have broken down for no
good reason. I fetched a mechanic from
Hooks’ garage, and he proceeded to dismantle the engine piece by piece. The car is a German “Opel” and appeared to me
to be made chiefly of thin sheets of tin.
We were stuck for 2 hours, during which I waited, bored as I always am at
mechanical failures. The local parson
came up the street, talking loudly in a Lancashire accent to an old man
about raids. Then he met some women and
repeated his remarks, ending up by shouting “Eh, but there’s nowhere safe
now.” Began to wonder if we should spend
the night there. At last, without
warning, the car started up again, and we got to Colchester by 5.15.
Saw Ida. She told me Blair Hughes-Stanton is definitely
coming home [he had been a Prisoner of War in Germany], and is expected Saturday.
She said that nearly 2 years ago she went to a sooth sayer in London and among other
things asked when Blair would be home. The
answer was “October 23”. When Oct. 23rd
last year came there was no Blair, but Saturday is
Oct. 23rd.
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