Thursday
Lay awake this morning, thinking
about Mother. Got in early, to go to the
ploughing match at Olivers. Went over
with Daphne. It was bright and clear,
but very cold. The eight horse teams,
all Suffolks, moved slowly up and down the field, and the cries of the
ploughmen as they turned came down the wind.
The caterpillar tractors, Cases and Fordsons chugged up and down between
the pegs, each on his own strip.
There was a good crowd there, and
the chairman came riding up the field on his bay horse.
Daphne went down to the buildings
to wait for the YMCA tea van, which came rather late. Then everybody went down to the buildings and
had plenty of hot tea at 1.5d a cup. I
had ordered 7 dozen meat pies from the Coop, which went very quickly.
The old Chairman was in great
form, and thoroughly enjoyed himself talking to the old ploughmen until about
half past 3. The horse teams were
unhitched and the 2 Committee teams started back to Wigborough and Mersea, the
huge shining Suffolks trotting like ponies, the ploughmen bobbing on their
backs.
Got back to the office soon after
4. Walling rather annoyed because I had
kept Daphne out so long, but she does so enjoy going out onto the farms.
Went to see Father and told him
all about the match. He seemed very
well.
Left the town at 6, and cycled to the Roses’ at Boxted. Dodo Rose told me that E M Delafield,
the writer, is dying in Oxfordshire. I
have enjoyed her writing for many years.
Was again overcome with
sleepiness, and finally curled up in the blankets. Fine and starlight, but few planes about.
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