27th November 1942

Friday

Endless trouble today getting the pay out.  Everything seemed to go wrong.

Finished reading “The Golden Ass”.  Wrote to Joanna tonight.  Felt tired.

Becket, the architect, was on the phone today about the thatchers working at Mersea.  He said that if they did enough to North Farm barn to make it watertight for 5 or 6 years, that would be quite sufficient, from which I should assume that Mr. Becket has very little faith in the future of farming.

This evening Joy told me a frightful story of an occurence at her cousin’s place, in Sussex.  It appears that there is a large estate called Yew Lodge, East Grinstead, belonging to Mr. Margary, F.S.A.  The place was very largely taken over by the army, and it so happened that a certain unit there had orders to go abroad at very short notice, either in July or the beginning of August.  They had a certain amount of stores, including a quantity of tinned foods, which they were unable to take with them, and they offered to give these to any of the farm workers of the people on the estate.  There had been a good deal said about stealing army rations, so all refused.  The soldiers then dug a large pit and buried the whole lot!  Later, a sack of rice was found, and was left in a shed belonging to Mr. Margary’s foreman.  I am not quite clear whether he knew it was put there or not, but at all events an informer tipped off the police, and a search was made in every house on the estate.  During this search, every tin of foodstuffs from every house was removed, as the owners could not prove that the stuff was their own property!  In one case, an old woman lost the whole of her little store.  The foreman was arrested and sentenced to a month’s imprisonment.  There was no censure on the military authorities for a wicked waste of foodstuffs, and as far as I know the owners of all the food taken out of the houses received no recompense.

The foreman has since been released, after serving his time, and states that Pentonville seems to be full of postmen and policemen.  So far no effort has been made to get the whole case reviewed, nor has the local M.P. done anything.

26th November 1942

Thursday

The best time of the day now seems to be between 8 and 9 in the morning, when the rising sun throws pink and golden lights on the clouds, and the moon and stars fade away in the west. 

Fine today.  About 10 o’clock there was an alarm for 8 minutes, but nothing came over.  This is the first alarm for ten days, and the first in daylight for a month.  Did not feel particularly nervous.  Nobody else in the office took any notice of it.

Late out tonight and called at the Sissons, whom I have not seen for some time.

25th November 1942

Wednesday

Dull day, but fine, and clouds high.  Trouble this morning about Land Girls working at Wakes Colne.  Six of them came marching into the office because they refused to go to work unless their bus fares were paid in advance.  They had no money at all, having apparently spent the whole of last week’s pay since Saturday. 

24th November 1942

Tuesday

Cloudy but fine at first, and a lovely sunny morning later on.  

Mr and Mrs Parrington went to Needham Market today to take a pig to be cured.  The old bacon factory there is still working, although in ruins, but one drying house survives and 2 or 3 tanks.  There is no roof.  The houses opposite are down.  One bomb hit the road and bounced along, just as the one did at Essex Street.  Mr. Quinton, the proprietor of the factory actually saw it coming, and was knocked unconscious by the explosion.  Few people were hurt because most of the houses nearby were timber framed and did not collapse.  

While the Parringtons were in the factory, a plane came over very low.  A little boy working there said rather anxiously “Is that one of ours?”  The foreman reassured him, and remarked “You must excuse us being a bit bomb-shy here.”  It turned out that the boy had been buried in the factory ruins and dug out almost unhurt.

23rd November 1942

Monday

Cloudy but fine.  Committee at Birch today.  Got a lift all the way back to Lawford in Stanley Webb’s car.  Talked about blacksmiths and harness-makers.  He is very keen to get travelling smiths established, and mentioned the work done by Ruston of Bradfield, who covers a wide area.  Cold shoeing can never satisfactorily take the place of hot shoeing.

Spent the evening mounting photos.

22nd November 1942

Sunday

Fine day.  Took Robin out into the big field and rode him on the plough for half an hour.  Cycled in to duty tonight.  Lovely moon.  No planes about at all.

21st November 1942

Saturday

Going up East Hill this morning, I saw a young Chinese girl walking down, while just behind, on the other side, was an American.

Heard that Martin, in the Town Clerk’s office, has been called up.  He is about 31 or 32, I should think.  This leaves only Buxton, Brown and Harvey, and I hear he will have to go in January.  It is strange that these men like Harvey and Martin, with 10 or 12 years experience in highly skilled work, should be taken, yet War Agricultural Committee men, even under 30, are not generally taken.  All the Borough Treasurer’s staff have gone except about two, but some of the Engineer's are left, waiting to deal with the aftermath of the great air attacks on Colchester.  One of them, “Frenchy” Blackmore, was an R.A.F. pilot before the war, and left the service to come back to the Engineer’s office.

I cannot help wondering if, behind all this, there is some plan of the Regional Office at Cambridge to so reduce Local Government staffs that they will have more power and control over Local Government affairs in the future.  It is now being said openly that Town Councils will be almost abolished after the war, and their powers taken over by Regional officers.  

Fine day, high clouds and some sunshine.  Cycled out to Lawford this afternoon.  Wonderful cloud effects over the Colne Valley, full moon rising on the right.  By half past 8 there was a lovely clear blue sky, the moon fairly blazing in it, not a cloud or a sign of mist anywhere.  A few planes diving about, playing in the moonlight.  

Writing until 10.30.