7th January 1944

Friday

Up early.  Fine clear morning, quite warm.  Many heavy bombers going over in the direction of France, flying low, with their green, red, and yellow navigation lights glowing like little stars.  By the time I got to Birchwood some were coming back, so I suppose they had been to Pas de Calais.  A big flight went across flying high in formation.  Noticed that the landing lights were on at Langham.

Busy all day.  Trouble brewing about the Committee cows and heifers.  Snowball is very much up in arms and Nott furious.  Captain Folkard was in Chelmsford for an N.F.U. meeting and missed it.  It generally falls to me to keep the peace between all these people.  In this case, Snowball is undoubtedly right, as Nott is not fit to care for cattle.  They have treated the bull at Brickhouse so badly that he is now almost useless. 

This afternoon the weather became cloudy and fine rain began, so I felt emboldened to take Daphne out to tea.  About 6 went to Holly Trees and talked to Poulter for a couple of hours.  Told me that Alderman Hazell was still alive, but not expected to last much longer.  Mrs. Lyon-Campbell is also very bad, and is only kept alive by stimulants.

Cannot help noticing that Alderman Hazell was admitted to the Essex County Hospital although suffering from nothing but a stroke, yet I was told that Mother could not be admitted under any circumstances.  There is a note in the Essex County Standard tonight about old Lamb, the hospital porter, who has just died, at the age of 81, in the Workhouse.  Although he had served the hospital well for nearly 40 years, and had been made a life-governor, even he could not be allowed to die there in comparative comfort.  Apparently there has been a good deal of comment in the town, and the hospital authorities have published an “explanation”.

Poulter told me that there had been another robbery at the Castle – a case cupboard in the Prehistoric Room was forced open, the lock entirely removed, and one or two drawers of Belgic stamps were emptied.  It is not known what is missing, as of course Hull had no idea what was in the drawers.  The Chairman got to know by accident and made himself quite unpleasant to Hull, who was entirely unrepentant.  Where will it all end?

Left at 8, slight rain, and a thin watery moon.  To my surprise, a fair number of heavy bombers went out, apparently flying in formation above the clouds.  They reckon to fly in any weather now.

Higham at 9, writing, reading, and bed at 11.30.  Wrote to the Penroses in Canada today, envying the letter as it vanished into the letter box.

6th January 1944

Thursday

Up early, but did not get to the office until 9.45, owing to strong headwind.  The weather warmer again, no sign of frost.

Captain Folkard very annoyed at Engledow’s attitude regarding the letting of the new houses, and refused to telephone him.  Engledow, who is an insufferable ass at the best of times, seems to think that he can dictate not only to Local War Agricultural Committees, but to the District Council as well, but the Council, as they say round here, “wont wear it”.  The Clerk said to me some months ago that if the War Agricultural Committee could not behave reasonably, the Council would let these cottages to tenants other than agricultural workers.

This afternoon went to Fordham Airfield with Snowball and Dyer to dismantle the fitting in a cowshed at Woodhouse Farm, next to Harvey’s.  Not very successful, as they were set so hard in concrete.  The station was in full operation today, planes coming and going in all directions.  The noise of engines, and the bursts of gunfire as they tried their guns, was continuous.  While we waited outside the Watch Room, a ‘plane pulled up with a single aluminium coloured bomb slung under the fusilage.  The pilot seemed to be in some doubt as to where he ought to go, and called over to an officer to show him his maps.  After some little discussion he taxied away, turned onto the runway, and went roaring into the wind, rising and disappearing to the west, leaving me to wonder what people far distant now laughing or working or eating or sleeping were due to be dead in an hour or so when that shiny silver-coloured bomb burst among them.  Or would it fall harmlessly in a Flanders marsh or in the sea?

As we were going round the taxi-way we saw a plane which had run off the tarmac into the mud, and was heeling over like a wrecked ship.  One plane came running in to land when a red flare shot up as a signal that the runway was not yet clear.

Harvey's Farmhouse is now down to the level of the wall-plates, and the weather boards have been stripped from the west end, revealing the timber framing in good order, of which I made a rough sketch.  Went up the stairs and saw the main beam and rafters, all in good condition.  The rafters were numbered but appeared to have been reused, as the numbers did not run consecutively.  There is a lot of material to be got away, but the ground is still too wet to bear a lorry.

Just as we were leaving a plane came along the taxi-way, just back from a flight, waddling along like an ungainly duck, being steered by the rudder.  A dozen men came running out of a hut and swarmed all over it, the pilot walking away towards the Watch Room.

Stuart Rose appeared, to see about timber for a shed at Fordham Orchards.  He drove straight onto the flying field without speaking to anybody, and nobody made any attempt to stop him.  I went back to Colchester with him.

Had to send off a parcel of silver spoons to Mrs. Conran, and called at the Library to borrow sealing wax.  Went into the basement to melt it, and saw a volume of the Essex County Standard on a table.  Opened it casually, saw it was for 1910.  Looked at the top right-hand corner of the page at which I had opened it, and read the announcement of my own birth.

Moon tonight and thin clouds.  To Higham by 7.  No beacon.  Listened to the comical “Itma” show on the radio, and heard a joke about Mr. Boutflower of the “Min: of Ag: and Fish:”, this being the father of the Tendring District Officer.

“Twelfth Night”, so took down all the Christmas holly and mistletoe and burnt it.

5th January 1944

Wednesday

Heard planes going out very early.  Fine morning, high clouds, freezing hard.  Sun rose in great sheets of crimson flame.  Capt. Folkard out all day, so very busy.  Engledow telephoning from Writtle about recommendations for the new council houses.  Very anxious that nothing should be done except by himself, - inter-departmental jealousy.

Light until well after 6, with the moon coming up in a fog.  Had tea up-town before leaving.  Poulter tells me that old Mrs. Lyon-Campbell [Dr P G Laver's sister] is dying in the Beverley Road Nursing Home, and that Alderman Hazell has had a stroke and is in the County Hospital.  He (Poulter) is going to see the Chairman about Mrs. Lyon-Campbell’s books and pictures.  Marshall the solicitor is executor, and is very awkward.

If Alderman Hazell dies there will be another vacancy on the Museum Committee, which it will be very difficult to fill.  No Councillors take any interest in the Museum.  I see in today’s “Gazette”, that Adams, the manager of Barclay’s Bank, has been put on the Council in Harper’s place, now that Harper has been made an Alderman.  There must have been 10 or 11 Councillors put on unopposed since the beginning of the war.

4th January 1944

Tuesday

Heard planes during the night, and once thought I heard machine-gun fire, but may have dreamt it.  Lovely cloudless morning, but very cold.  As I cycled in along Ipswich Road several big flights of American bombers flew over towards France.  As they passed over Langham several of them dropped red and green flares, which glowed very strangely in the dawn sky.

This afternoon two little snow storms drifted across the town, and it became very cold. 

Called at Dedham on the way out, but Sissons had friends in, and I did not go in.  Such a brilliant moonlight night that I expected the beacon to be alight, but it was not, and I spent a very peaceful evening. 

3rd January 1944

Monday

Woke at 7, very dark, low clouds, strong wind.  Felt stiff and tired.  Our new housekeeper, Miss Payne, arrived by bus just after 1 o’clock.  Met her with a taxi, which I was lucky to get, just forestalling 2 Americans.  Had lunch at Rose’s.  A big dark very Jewish man came in, and I realised it was her brother Archie, whom I met five years ago.  He took no notice of me.

Went out to Fordham Aerodrome [Wormingford Aerodrome].  At Fordham found all the roads for miles around the aerodrome thick with mud, which made cycling very dangerous.  Lorries rushing about in every direction.  Had to report to the Watch Room before going on the flying field, and was invited to walk upstairs into the Control Room, which was marked in large letters “No Unauthorised Personnel Admitted”, but nobody seemed to resent my presence in any way.  Showed my authority card to a very pleasant young lieutenant, and then cycled off round the taxi-way.  Saw a single-engine plane starting away from the dispersal site.

Hutton’s men have begun dismantling the old farm house [Harvey's Farm], and have stripped all the tiles.  Explained how I wanted to preserve the moulded ceiling, and they were all very helpful.  Most of them I have met on various jobs in Colchester.  The main trouble now is that owing to the depth of mud it is impossible to get a lorry up to the site until the ground freezes, and there is no sign of that at the moment.  

Had to call at the office, and then away through Wormingford, Lt. Horkesley, Nayland, and Stoke to Higham.  I should like to live in Stoke, but it is rather too far from Colchester.

Called at Thorington Hall, and saw the Trichers. They are not very keen to let me go there, as they fear trouble with Penrose’s housekeeper, who also lives in the place.  Disappointing. 

Got to Higham at 6.15.  Very dark and wet.  No beacon.  Writing, supper, and early bed.  No planes about tonight, but the moon was beginning to shine through the clouds at 10 o’clock.

2nd January 1944

Sunday

A brilliant day, quite warm.  Was there ever such weather at mid-winter?  Wish it would break up.  Will there be any real winter at all now?

Everybody very uneasy about the immediate future.  Thankful I don't live on the South Coast.

Lay very late, and spent the afternoon washing and cleaning.  Heard on the news that there had been another terrible raid on Berlin in the early hours today.  Will this never stop?  Watched all day hoping that the weather would break, but the sky remained clear and blue.  Many planes going out and returning.  The big 4-engine bombers go out now without escorts.

At dusk the crescent moon showed brightly, and I was alarmed to see that the beacon had been lit.  Got in a panic, dressed and shaved, and made ready to go out.  Then decided to have tea first, and after began writing, with radio music playing.  Did about 2,000 words of the “Camchester Chronicle”.  Just before midnight the radio faded slightly for a few minutes, but came on again, and I heard a plane come over which sounded like a German.

Switched on to a German station, and kept on writing until 2 a.m., then went to sleep in the armchair, before the dying fire.

1st January 1944

Saturday

New Year’s Day, the fifth of the war.  Heavy, low clouds streaming before a strong westerly wind.  Not so cold as yesterday.

This is the 21^st volume of my “Colchester Journal”, which I have kept more or less regularly since January 1^st, 1924.  Before then, as a child, I had kept a few scrappy records which I wrote in home-made note-books.  I am not sure to what extent this volume can be claimed as a Colchester journal, as I am so little in the town that I know very little of what goes on.  I am only happy now when out of Colchester, although I am not happy at Higham owing to the American beacon, which terrifies me.  The Valley Farm cottage is delightfully remote, almost as remote as a cottage in far Wales or the Highlands, but alas not remote from aeroplanes, one of which is humming over now, high up under the glittering stars.

I still have my own money, and have never put a penny into War Savings.  I am getting £4.12.6 now, while I only had £3 at the Museum.  This cottage costs £3.10.0 per month, but I fear the electric light bill will be heavy.  Last year I spent about £15 on my trip to Scotland and Wales, and Mother’s funeral cost £20, so my savings have diminished a little, but I think I still have about £170 in the Bank and £70 in superannuation.  My pony, harness, carts, trap, books and other belongings must be worth almost £100.

But what is the use of money or possessions if one is unable to enjoy them?  Shall we enjoy anything this year?  I doubt it.  Saw Poulter this afternoon, and he told me that he had it from a very good source that the betting is even that the war will be over by April 15^th, and 2-1 that it will be over by June.  Was there ever such nonsense?

Left the town at 5.30, the sky clear for the time being, but more immense black clouds came up from the west.  I was glad to see them, as I feel safe only on black, dirty nights.  The moon is waxing now, and I fear what may happen here during the next fortnight.

Glad to find that the beacon was not on, and settled down for a quiet evening, reading, writing, and listening to the radio.  Very few planes about.