Saturday, December 21
We walked to the pub this morning, even though it rained all the way there and all the way back. One of my wellies has started leaking and my sock was soaked by the time we got home. Martin thinks he may be able to repair the hole in the welt with a puncture repair kit, once the boot has dried out. In the meantime I shall have to borrow his boots when I go outside.
There was much talk at the pub of the devastation in the town, following the return of the expedition. Those who are used to growing produce and handling livestock are shocked that the townspeople stayed put awaiting their fate. We are all so accustomed here to solving our own problems and have a strong survival instinct. But some said we mustn’t assume that everyone in the surrounding towns has perished and that there are likely to be stragglers, both good and bad, finding their way to areas like ours eventually.
We then talked with Mick, Reverend James and others about how we should react if outsiders come into the village. Some were adamant they would not welcome strangers and wouldn’t share their hard won supplies with them. But our vicar said that, while we must be naturally cautious, we are well stocked here and should be able to share a little of our stores. Finally we agreed that there should be a refugee committee, consisting of Mick, James and David from the parish council, to vet incomers and assess their needs. Then they could be accommodated in the village hall and given rations. I felt happy with that compromise, as while I hate to think of people starving, I am very anxious about our safety after hearing Martin’s account of his adventure.
Today it was dark by three o’clock but my hens gave me four more eggs, two blue and two brown.