SEPTEMBER 15, 1944
QUEBEC CITY, Thursday—On Tuesday morning, Mrs. Churchill and I went for a short shopping trip without much success, for though clothes are not rationed here, there is a scarcity of all goods, even the homespun for which this area is well known.
Conferences had begun in earnest, and so yesterday afternoon the Governor General and Princess Alice took Mrs. Churchill and me on a short trip into the country. We had tea sitting on rugs in a field, with a lovely countryside all around us. Then we walked along a country road, stopping to talk with a farmer now and then, and passing a house where there had evidently been a wedding and where a car stood outside decorated with gay paper streamers. In the evening only the Chiefs of Staff dined here, and the Governor General and Princess Alice left on a trip to a nearby industrial center.
On Wednesday Lady Fiset, the wife of the Lieutenant-Governor of the Province of Quebec, gave a luncheon at Spencerwood, which is their official residence. It is a lovely house with gardens going down to the river. The approach is through beautiful trees. Some sixty women had been gathered together to meet us, and after a delicious lunch both Mrs. Churchill and I were asked to say a few words to the assembled company.
In the early evening Mrs. Churchill and I made a short address over the radio, and at 9 o'clock we went to a party at the Chateau Frontenac, given by Mackenzie King, Prime Minister of Canada, for all the members of the conference. You will gather, from the way the ladies have been off on their own, that the gentlemen are now hard at work, and even mealtimes are used for conference purposes.
I had hoped to fly down to New York today, much as I would like to stay on in this delightful spot. But I think the weather is going to force us to go down by train this afternoon. I hope to visit a member of the family who is leaving on a journey, and then go to Hyde Park to pick up the threads of country life again, since there are still guests there who must feel somewhat neglected.
Several days ago I received a letter from a Red Cross worker who has been back in this country from the Mediterranean area. She does not give me an address because she says she is leaving immediately, but she opens her letter thus: "I am not too sure just what prompts me to write you. I think because at the moment I am a bit exasperated." And then she proceeds to tell me what she and the men who are fighting the war feel as they read our newspapers. She certainly does not mince words, and in substance expresses the conviction that the newspapers do not understand the soldiers' feelings, and neither do the civilians at home. She at least pays me the compliment of thinking that I may understand her letter.