Pat's Diary - Part 4 October 1940

Three days later
October 3rd 1940 Thursday
Dear Diary,
I do wish my little mummy would get well. She is so sick, and the doctor, to point the seriousness of it, was contemplating in sending her to hospital. Oh I do wish God would let her get well. I'd even promise to be a nun, if only Mummy could have always health.
Today Poppy gave me the sixteen shillings he owed me with one shilling interest. Poor little thing, he's not so very rich himself.
Today Matilda laid the first egg in the new fowl run. Marye the Black Gynn now has laid 7 eggs in 10 days in her outside nest. I do love my little lot of poultry.
Tomorrow Aunty Olive is taking me to see aunt and Lilliput Mansion. I'm going to wear my costume & a new frill blouse, so I'm going to pray that it will be warm.

Eight hour day
Monday 7th 1940
Dear Diary,
Today is the least public holiday to Xmas and now today is over. It's been a most glorious day, on the River in a boat for Peggy & I & three of the girls from her work. Laugh! I don't think I've laughed so much in all my life. Betty the gingerhead fell headfirst into the river. I just saw feet disappearing over the edge. We took it in turns to row there, but coming back, two young boys towed us kindly to the boatshed. In all it was a splendid day, and I ended up getting terribly sunburnt.
On Friday my D.O.S certificate came to hand. It's a beautiful one with dark engravings and my name written in ticket writing.
Also went to the Australia Day display in town. Everyone said I looked OK in my costume.

Glenayr, Roseville
October 8th 1940
Dear Diary,
"The Flowers that bloom in the Spring" tra la. I feel as gay as a giddy lamb. Today whizzed by like a merry go round on edge. I hardly had time to sit down It always goes fast when one is working, & anyway I couldn't sit down if I wanted to, I'm so sore from yesterday.
There is a lovely new song out about the diggers leaving Australia. One of the lines as follows: "And the fields of waving corn"
I liked that that. I haven't had an inspiration for ages.
Today a young girl at Willoughby was murdered in her bed. The street she lived in starts six or seven streets up from us. She was only 16. I'm not going to sleep on the verandah any more.
Today I wrote to Eunice & asked her to come down on Sunday.
Well no more news has Yours Truly, Patricia

(Aunty Olive & Mummy PHOTO)
Thursday October 10th
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I posted the letter to Eunice and she rang last night. It was good to hear her again. She joined the VADs but is leaving again. She also had her hair done like mine. She is coming down on Sunday.
Today I received my certificates cancelled from "Woman". I suppose the book will follow tomorrow. I'm going to turn over a new leaf right now, and no-one will know me. I might even be a nun, but I'll have to think that over because nuns have to get up even in Winter at five o'clock, and if there's one thing I do like in Winter, it's my bed.
I do wish Mummy would get well. I'd willingly give my life for her to be always well, strong and happy.

Monday 14th 1940
Dear Diary,
Received book "Anne's House of Dreams" on Saturday. Princess Elizabeth made her first broadcast today. She spoke very nicely, slowly and clearly, and didn't sound a bit nervous. It was lovely to hear her.
On Saturday we saw "Under Two Flags", an old revival with beautiful Ronald Coleman. I really must see "Gone With the Wind".
Tomorrow I am going in with Muz & Fuz for the Farmers exray.

A week later
Sunday 20 October 1940
Dear Diary,
Tonight the wind is howling outside and at times the rain beats heavily on the pane. The only reason I want it to stop is because the hen house isn't too strong and liable to collapse any moment.
Today I composed a poem five verses long, entitled "Two Songs". The Song of Peace & the Song of War. I am sending it to Sunbeams tomorrow.
All weekend I've had a wretched cold in the head, and it made me terribly miserable. Mummy had one too. I've had two wretched nights. I can't breathe because of the cold, and so therefore can't get to sleep.

At my little attic window
Friday 25th 1940
Dear Diary,
And so another day has passed! On Wednesday I missed a position by one inch. A girl was wanted for a frock salon, so Miss Pyne (me) applied at 11, which was a few hours too late. But oh she was such a nice woman, the Manager, she said she would have taken me had I gone earlier. She was very taken with me, but she had engaged a a girl earlier that morning. So I finished my day at the theatre.
Another batch of evacuees arrived in Sydney yesterday, 39 in all, poor little kids! I'm glad we don't live in England.
Mummy is not quite well yet, and in some ways I'm glad I didn't get the position. I've still got a wretched cold, it's just as bad.
There is a light breeze blowing in through my curtained windows & fanning my face as I sit here, with the whole of my youth behind me, and a future in front. Around the bend, I like that phrase, but what is around the bend? Perhaps wealth & unhappiness, perhaps joy & sorrow, or maybe a long life & happiness. You never can tell, and so we must live a day at a time, until we can turn the bend.
I must end my light romantic dreams. No doubt you will smile as you read this, but at times it is a luxury to fly with your thoughts into swifter & wider channels. I must away now as my candle has just burned away (the candle of my thoughts).
So Avious (sic) until next tome, A very tired Miss Pyne, Patricia