Sunday
Strong wind again, and pouring
wet day. Spent the whole day indoors, reading and writing.
18th November 1944 - Shurlock Row
Saturday
Warm, fine and cloudy. Up rather late. Writing all morning. Newspapers came at 10 o’clock. 'The Express' reports
that Leigh-Mallory, Air Chief Marshall and his wife are missing.
About midday heard 2 or 3 heavy
explosions in the direction of London . Perhaps rockets? About half past 5 there
was a great noise of bombers, and we saw many Stirlings coming over from the West and NW, at various height. They finally made off to the S.E. Before 7 some could be heard going back to
the NW, and more came in between 9.30 and 10.
Had very bad heart pains this
afternoon, after playing with the cat.
It was only for 5 minutes, but I was so exhausted I thought I should
faint. There must be something radically
wrong.
17th November 1944 - Shurlock Row
Friday
Terrible storm all night and rain
kept on all morning.
Wrote to Miss Bentley, paid more
rent, and to Miss Lazell about the old man’s death. Don’t know whether to write to Mrs Smallwood
or not.
This afternoon Margery took me to the
village “Library” in the school next door. Took “The Changing Village” by F G
Thomas.
Heard on 6 o’clock news that a
new form of announcement is now adopted regarding V1 and V2 even vaguer than
before. In future we are to be told that
in “the period of 24 hours ending at dawn there was enemy activity over
southern England . Damage and casualties were caused.” Nothing more.
What more could be done to create alarm, fear and rumour?
Had a bath in the kitchen. Bed 10.30.
16th November 1944 - Shurlock Row
Thursday
Brilliant morning, but cold. Uncle out in the garden, working like a man of 50. I sat indoors writing, but Marjery insisted I
should take the WLA girl to Reading
to the cinema. The only film
of any interest seemed to be “The Four Feathers”, so I suggested we should go
there.
Enjoyed the film just as much as when I saw it years ago. Much amused by someone in the
stalls who clapped eagerly at every opportunity, whenever the gallant British
Army shot the hell out of various natives, whenever the flag was shown or Lord
Kitchener appeared.
When we came out it was dark, and
there was nowhere to get a drink except at a rather dirty milk bar down the
road. We had milk there, and then set
off home very cautiously, as she had no front light and I no rear. However, we got past the police at the
junction near the Cemetery, but just after I tripped against the curb and fell
down, putting out my knee and jarring my elbow.
Fog on the road, and we had to be very careful owing to the danger of
traffic.
At last got onto the side lanes,
and up the Straight Mile to supper after which heard the “Itma” show, which I
much enjoyed, though I don't think the others did. Margery told me that the Land Army girl had a very pleasant time,
though I thought it must have been very dull for her.
Rain began this evening. No
alarms or explosions, though there are divers over every night.
15th November 1944 - Shurlock Row
Wednesday
Fine and sunny. Writing in the morning, and then decided to
go to Maidenhead. Went to Food Office and got
ration card for the week, bought some cakes, went to Library. The “museum” is practically closed. The case of material from the Castle Hill
villa is now in the entrance hall. There is a letter exhibited over the Castle Hill case from R A Smith, 7/9/05, in which
he calmly accepts the possibility of Domituin, Gallienus, and Constantine all
in one grave! And in the Reference Room
are two table cases (one broken and patched with brown paper) in which local archaeological material has been arranged by Williams-Hunt, Maitland’s friend. Nicely done with labels typewritten in red,
quite attractive.
There is a magnificent Bronze Age spearhead, from the Thames at Windsor , lent by Newbury Museum
Beautiful polished axe, about 10”
long, from below Maidenhead Bridge.
Incomplete Saxon sword, v. good.
Long case in the passage to
Juvenile Library contains mass of mixed rubbish, hair of Wellington ’s charger, fragment of Napoleon’s
Standard, miscellaneous ethnology, hardly a label in the lot.
Alderman Silver’s excellent map of
the district 100 years ago no longer to be seen.
Cycled back by 5.30. The Essex County Standard for last week arrived today. Poor old
Harry Lazell is dead, last Monday week.
He was 86. Wonder what will happen
to his negatives and photos? His
daughter was so furious at the Museums 2 years ago that I fear she will not be
disposed to be very friendly. Must write
to her.
Account of the Mayor making – Ald.
Piper is Mayor again after 20 years. Suddenly noticed that poor
little Smallwood is dead – Pye, the retiring Mayor referred to him. Poor little chap, he had been terribly ill
during the last 2 or 3 years. He was a
useful man on the Museum Committee, and who is to fill his place I cannot
see. Laver, Benham, Hazell, Smallwood –
Blaxill well over 70, Sam 71, Rendall about 94.
What is to become of the Museum?
There is no one to follow on at all.
Smallwood’s death puts Hull more firmly than
ever in the saddle, for Smallwood was the one man who was determined at all costs to
get Hull out of his job. He was a good
friend to me. I last saw him when I
went to see him to discuss my position.
He looked ill then, but was as kind as ever. It was of course intended that Smallwood was
to have been Mayor this year, and he was very disappointed when the proposal
was rejected.
Looked at the obituary column,
and found that Uncle Frank had put in a notice for Mother –
“RUDSDALE,
AGNES – November 13, 1943
In remembrance
of my dear sister. She looked well to
the ways of her household, and in her tongue was the law of kindness.”
I appreciate this very much, and
cannot think how it could have been done better.
See that Tendring Rural District Council wants more shelters
and a siren, and the Copford people say they’ll put in an “unofficial” siren if
they’re not given one. And 3 months ago
we thought the war was over.
14th November 1944 - Reading - Oxford
Tuesday
Fine sunny morning, not too
cold. Suddenly decided to go to Reading .
Went off down the road to Twyford. Felt a little faint at the first hill, heart
pains more severe than usual. Reading at
12 o’clock. How excellent are Simmond’s
horses as they trot about the town. They
should be sent on show all over the country.
To the Museum – dark, filthy,
depressing. Not a thing has been touched
since I last saw it in 1939, and very little since I first saw it in 1924.
The Silchester Collection is
grubby, badly lighted, hardly a label, except a few good ones which I think
Seaby did some years ago. The masses of
coarse pots are covered in grime, and have not been touched for years. Apparently no safety precautions not a single
thing has been put away in safety, not even the pillar-moulded bowl nor any of
the hand tools or the best T.S. ware.
Even the coins are all in their table cases, though many jolted out of
position by the bombs which fell on the other side of the street and have never
been replaced. This was the time when
there was a daylight attack in 1942. It
was about 4 o’clock in the p.m. and a restaurant was hit, killing a lot of
people.
Noted that although it was not
thought worthwhile to protect any objects in the Museum, the War Memorial has
been carefully removed from its pedestal in Forbury.
The Architectural Room is still
the best part of the collection and it is better arranged and better labelled
than any other.
Looked through T.S. ware, and
noted 4 sherds which might be Colchester
ware.
The magnificent iron tools are
quite unprotected. Horse shoes –
stratified?
The old map of the town is still
there, and some faded photos of the Excavations, but no modern labels or
general explanation of the place. The
wretched beehive, stood above the coin case, is still a great feature. The “General” Museum Room is closed, and
workmen were busy chipping broken glass out of the skylights, I suppose bomb
damage. Peeped round the curtain and saw
that the exhibits seemed to be left in their cases.
The Art Gallery
This is undoubtedly a very fine
thing indeed, and of the greatest value.
I had not previously known that it was done in 1895, at Leek in Staffs,
by about 35 ladies, working on drawings supplied by South Kensington. Why the work was undertaken I don't know. It makes a wonderful exhibit, but, the
labelling is very poor, just dirty white cards, hand written, done about 20
years ago. One wall is hung with
tattered news cuttings describing the tapestry when sent out on tour to various
museums about 1928. The present
exhibition is widely advertised in the press, and it seems such a pity not to
present it decently. In the Art Gallery
annex is an exhibit of ghastly coloured postcards illustrating Reading ,
Berkshire County , Pennysylvania
Could not help remembering how I
came here years ago to try for a post as junior assistant. Maitland advised me strongly against it, I
remember. Wonder how Smallcombe [the Curator at Reading] compares
with Hull ?
So depressed by Reading ,
decided to go to Oxford
again. Caught 1.28 which left 10 mins
late and took one and a half hours to get to Oxford .
Went to the National Buildings Record again at All Souls,
and saw Godfrey. Got my pass to see bomb
damage renewed, and had a long talk, Had
half a mind to ask him for a job, but finally baulked. Might write to him? Don't know.
Autumn afternoon was drawing in
when I came out into the grey misty hurrying crowds, lights in shops. Bought paper, but nothing much in it. Divers last night again. Went to the cinema. Saw a very old “Bulldog
Drummond” film and realised with a shock how old it was – about 1930 I should
think – women’s hats quite curious, old type cars etc. Film badly made but made me feel quite
nostalgic. Saw also a good old “cowboy”
show of Tombstone
City
Came out at 7, and found no train
until 10 o’clock. Suddenly decided to
call on Joan Blomfield, though with reluctance.
Took bus to Henley Rd, found the house, Mr and Mrs Petre both in. At once wished I had never come. They were both very civil, but I felt uneasy
and that there was a coldness. Felt too
that they were both thinking whatever can we find to talk about to this
wretched uneducated bore? He talked
about divers and rockets. There is no doubt
great alarm about them all over Southern England . (Godfrey told me that some divers had
recently reached as far as Huntingdon).
The Petres both say that all this relaxing of ARP, fire-watching etc is
Morrison’s idea, to make a good impression, and was undertaken to combat the
awful apathy and weariness which is spreading throughout the country. Had coffee and cake, lump sugar.
Joan Blomfield warned me to go before 9, as
I should otherwise miss the last bus, and there seemed to be considerable
relief at the prospect of my going.
Got to the station just after 9. Got in conversation with a charming woman of about 40, beautifully dressed,
very affable. Talked about destruction
of ancient houses, and the hopelessness of the future. Of course mentioned Colchester
(I always do when talking to strangers) and she said that some years ago she
lived at Bromley and knew the Guntors very well, Parrington’s friends.
She came as far as Didcot, to
change for Swindon . Sorry to see her go, so pleasant and such a
charming conversationalist. Train reached Reading at 11.30, nearly an hour late. Collected cycle and set off. Got to Shurlock Row
about 12.15, and as I opened the garden gate the sirens moaned at Maidenhead,
Burchetts Green and the aerodrome.
Nothing happened. Rain fell
heavily, but I could not bring myself to go indoors. Walked up and down the lane, listening. Thought how lucky Uncle is to be deaf and to
sleep peacefully through all this.
Thought of myself, on this very lawn, 30 years ago, a tiny boy in a yellow
linen hat. Once
or twice thought I could hear, very distant, the hum of a diver. It was not until one o’clock that I saw 2 red
flashes reflect on the house, and heard very distant rumbles. All-clear came within a few minutes and I
crept into bed, disturbing nobody.
13th November 1944 - Shurlock Row
Monday
Fine, frosty morning. Quite a
number of stacks are up, all well thatched.
Remember what difficulty I had to get a thatcher round here in
1939. The Land Army girl says the War Agricultural Committee sent round
Italians to some farms, and they did quite a good job at thatching. Many fields of stubbles not yet ploughed.
A cottage near the Schoolhouse,
timber framed and white washed, has a curious design painted on the washed wall
at one end, rather like two fern fronds.
Asked Margery if it was ancient, but she said “No, it's camouflage.”
Margery was talking tonight about Home Guard activities in 1940. They kept a
permanent watch from Waltham St Law steeple, day and night. Margery and Mrs Bush had to go in daytime. Nothing ever happened here, but at a church
near Aldershot a Jerry plane attacked and
machine gunned the Tower. One of the two
women there was hit in the leg and soon after women were withdrawn from
watching altogether.
Margery got out an old photo album
tonight and showed me photos of Father, Mother, me, Maitland, Aunt Het and Uncle Donald. All of us 30 years younger. Suddenly realised what a pretty little thing
mother was, although she must have been about 46 when these were taken. Realised too that it was just a year ago last
night that I last saw her alive.
Saw myself in the photos, a
little fair haired imp, grinning like a little goblin. I had terrors in the night even then, but had
too my “Guardian Angel”.
Margery has photos of 2 friends both
killed in raids, one at Chelmsford , the other at
Exeter .
Foggy tonight, and faintly
glittering stars.
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