Monday
Felt dreadfully ill. Awake all night. Seems hard luck that on a night free of raids
I could get no sleep. Coughed for hours
on end.
Dull and cold, but had a haircut
first thing, before going to Birch Hall.
The town seemed empty and lifeless.
Did nothing at the office except Committee stuff. Birch all afternoon but not such a long
meeting as usual. Got away at 5.30. At tea, Joanna did not show up at first, but
I suddenly saw her come out of her room with a plate and saucer, and go to wash
them in the bathroom. She waved her hand
to me vaguely, and looked rather worried.
I wondered if she had had bad news, but at last she walked round the
gallery to speak to us, and said in a very despondent manner that she was going
away “for a month”, to take her baby to her mother-in-law in Berkshire. I wonder if the Chairman has had a tip-off
about something and is getting her away?
She seemed to be quite upset about it.
The only thing of any note
mentioned at the meeting was the matter of Layer Breton Hall, which the
Chairman brought up, and was very indignant about it. This house was requisitioned by the Writtle
people about 18 months ago, to use as a hostel, and was taken in a very
high-handed manner which caused a lot of ill feeling. Since then hundreds of pounds have been spent
on it, and now, when it is almost ready, the Executive have decided that they
don't need a hostel there after all.
Naturally, the blame for this scandal is laid against the District
Committee, who had nothing whatever to do with it. It is now suggested that the place should be
used for workman’s flats, for which it is most unsuitable.
Got some more photos from Gall
today, copies of a dozen taken in 1908 or 1909 for Moore & Roberts by old
Stutter. Quite good – High Street, St
Botoloph’s, Lexden, Middle Mill etc.
To Holly Trees this evening. Poulter told me that the money box at the Castle
has been opened again during the past 10 days, twice. No action is being taken. There seems little doubt it is being done by
someone inside, and Hull is now wondering if it is old Simon, the firewatcher,
the last person I should have thought of.
Hull has also found a considerable number of the electric bulbs in the
office have been stolen, and dud bulbs put in their place. The office is always kept locked, but there
is a key in the bookstall downstairs.
Only Butcher has a key to the bookstall, but of course it would be easy
for him to leave the place open for Harding, whom Poulter suspects very much. I wonder what Hull would say if he knew that I
still had a key to the place? Hull left
the lights on in his office again last Friday and locked it, and as Butcher was
not there in the evening the night duty men had to remain in darkness all
night, with the mains off, as being the only way to put the light out. He has done this literally dozens of times
during the last 2 or 3 years, and nobody has ever said a word to him about it.
Still no letter from Mary Hulbert. Don't know whether she ever received mine, or
whether she does not want to reply. Feel
ill with worry, and wonder whether or not to send a telegram.
Rain tonight, at 11 o’clock.
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