Friday 8th October 1937

Spent the afternoon at Hullbridge. A queer town of bungalows, with land selling at £10 an acre. Queer people too. Rumour has it that hordes of builders descend on Hullbridge each weekend. On Monday one finds a row of bungalows where cows grazed on Saturday. The Weekend Workers of Hullbridge! Almost a legend, like the Wiltshire Moonrakers or the Wise Men of Gotham.

Many of the inhabitants are not of the rough diamond type which usually dwell in these bungaloid growths. I take Kempton, the bungalow builder, as an example. One phrase he used during conversation; “…the basic fundamentals of the individuals ego” (or something like that!) Mr Kempton and an intellectual friend once talked, “Until the stars faded from the sky”.

Evening call at Rochford yielded an order for a gallon of Egham Paint. Only 12/6, but a new account and the first order from Rochford. No more calls until Monday; just a little office work tomorrow! The Zephyr (my Austin Seven) droned along to the Anne Boleyn, and waited whilst it’s owner had three half pints of light ale. I rarely drink nowadays but it was pleasant to be in the cheery atmosphere of a bar again; meeting Mr Butler’s friends. Drove back to Eastwoodbury. Skilfully reversed Zephyr down the lane opposite Roedean, and left her there.

Later, I gave Nancy a lift to Westcliff, garaged Zephyr at St. Christopher’s and walked across the fields to Roedean, whistling tunelessly and noisily.