Wednesday
Up 8.30, splendid peaceful night
without a dream. Sudden
realisation that I have been here another week and have been away from Colchester for
31 days. Must undoubtedly
give up job.
Thick damp foggy morning, but
papers say more divers over last night. They are
now sending them all over Belgium
as well, and the Americans I suppose will want to send them out from this
country sooner or later.
Went to Library, read the London
Times, Irish Times, Scotsman, Yorkshire and Newcastle papers, trying to pick up
scraps about divers, but the reports are identical in every paper.
This afternoon went down to the
Register Office for Miss Biggam about the Bruntsfield Links business. Discovered that under Edinburgh Improvement Act, 1827
and another of 1831 neither the Links nor the Meadows can ever be built
upon. But when I reported this
interesting discovery the only comment was that if the Corporation wished to
build they would most certainly do so, Act or no Act! What a delicious comment on the glorious
democratic Government.
The officer at the Register
Office, when I was talking to him, said that of course either of these Acts could be repealed – “in fact, any act can be repealed, even the Act of
Union!”
Back to Library after that, and
then to Theatre to see Iolanthe, gallery seat again. When I heard the opening chorus I
shut my eyes and was back in the School Hall again, 14 years old, hearing
Gilbert & Sullivan for the first time.
Where are now all the boys who
played in that show? How many are
dead? The only name I can think of is
Jumbo Joscelyn, who made a great stir as “Private Willis” and he’s at Writtle.
The show was enjoyable, but a lot
of the music seemed to be played too slow, but the costumes were a delight and
the Lord Chancellor a dream. In the second act, there was great applause
as soon as the curtain rose to reveal Private Willis in his sentry box, and at
each mock-heroic reference in the songs there were little outbursts of clapping
from various parts of the house.
Came out into damp, misty streets, no sign of the moon. To bed, full of misery and anxiety. Shall have to cycle a good way home, as have not sufficient money for full fare.
Two unfortunate errors today – a
man stopped me outside the Library, a dirty little old man, carrying a parcel,
and I understood him to say “Do ye ken the City o’ Glasgo?” I stared at him and he seemed to repeat his
remark, so I said very slowly “No, but perhaps they could tell you in the
Library,” indicating the place, “I daresay they have a map in there.” He gaped at me a moment, muttered something
of which I caught only the words “bluidy fule” and walked away. A man standing near me grinned, so I said
“Well, he doesn’t seem to be very pleased with himself” The man laughed and said “Nay, he’s wild
because you make sich a game of him” I
replied “I certainly don’t mean to do any such thing. How can I be expected to know all about Glasgow?”
"Glasgow? Och, you never heard what he
said. It was the City Glass Company he was
asking for."
A few minutes later I went into a
shop and bought some writing paper, and the girls seemed to say “Do you wash on
Saturday?” It was only after several
repetitions that I made out the question as “Do you wish envelopes as well?”
Had tea in a cinema café in the Lothian Road, the
grey afternoon fading outside and the long processions of horses going home to
the Railways yards at the Caledonian Station.
Their great hooves ringing on the cobbles.
Pretty girls coming in to tea
with soldiers and airmen, and pipe music from the radio.
Got hold of 2 very good things
today – book of short stories by Cunninghame Graham, which are superb. Never read any before, but must now get a
lot. The other is the last volume of
Hodson’s War Diary, 1942-3, called ‘Home Front’. Excellent reporting. Must get the other
4 vols.
The purchase of these has left me
with £3.12.6, and the fare home is nearly £5.
