Sun Feb. 1 5.30 PM. [1942]

Should think Ron is well on his way back to camp by this. There is a fine snow like sago falling and I think it freezes. Father went to see this morning. She was better again. Took her a jar of my apricot jam. She sent me ¼ lb. tea. Jean took her some of our rabbit when she went to S[unday] S[chool]. It was very good and thought it might be easier to digest than beef. She said “Did we think they had nothing to eat?” Flora went with Jean to S.S. Rene came home and we both wished we had chocolates, and speculated on the chance of Jean arriving home with any if Mrs H[all] gave her some. She did, a Kit-Kat so we were lucky for once. Rene stayed for a cup of tea, she usually has about half a tea here then goes back to get Mr A his and no doubt finishes hers. Says her legs ached so last night she isn’t going to Chapel and is going to roll up in a blanket in bed. Expect it is her old friend Rheumatism. Jean much better.

They are all much intrigued with my new shoulder wrap. I get so shivery and then turn hot and as I wear woolly jumpers find a cardigan is often too much extra, besides, I hate putting sleeves on and off. Amongst Father’s comforts from C.G. there was a short, thick and wide blue scarf. He never wears a scarf, so I have stitched a button on and made a loop and hey, presto! there is the very thing I want. It can be slipped on or off in a minute. I am feeling rather sick, don’t know why. My pain in the side has nearly gone to-day. There was a lovely grey gull in the garden to-day with rows of brown feathers on its wings and scattered on its breast. It was larger than the dove grey and white ones and had a long curved beak. It was starved and tame tho’ still timid. A blackbird hopped around with a monotonous “drip, drip, drip” like water dripping from a tap. Bits of snow in all the hollows of sandhills and wherever there is shade so it looks as if they were waiting for more.

Young Charlie Parish has got himself a job on a farm to learn tractor driving, so informs us he won’t be bringing papers or milk any more, he goes tomorrow. Shall have to write to Food Office to get transferred to Brock. If Parrish had given up his business we could have transf. automatically, but as he would supply us if we fetched it, which isn’t convenient, we must get a transfer and explain why we want it. Of course C. is 17 which may explain his sudden desire for work and choice of a job. Can hear the sea rolling up the beach. Hope the weather will soon become warmer, it is 4 weeks on Tuesday since the storms started Jean says.

Fred Brock, ran a dairy farm (at that time as tenant of Harold Ailsby – see 21 Dec. 1940) near the village church. Milk was delivered by their son, Tom, or other helpers. Fred and Tom were local Royal Observer Corps (ROC)  members.

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