Apparently the Japanese will not entertain Woodward’s scheme. It is not definite that the water will be turned off here, but the Japs want this camp to be made independent of the town water supply. This, in a way, is a very good thing, for if HK is invaded by the Americans and is bombed and shelled, it is quite possible that the water supply might be cut off or smashed and then, in all the ensuing turmoil, we might be in an awkward predicament: so it is just as well to have these arrangements made. But the situation is quite unpleasant.
The Japanese have permitted an opening to be made in the barbed wire fence by the Indian Qtrs which will enable us to have access to the small beach down there. This is to enable people to draw sea water for washing purposes. An emergency period has been declared, during which time, we shall be allowed only 1½ pints of fresh water per person per day. This will be boiled before it is issued. All the rest will be sea water which we must fetch ourselves. I don’t know how we shall wash ourselves and our clothes in sea water, for you cannot use soap and the salt will soon rot the few clothes that we have left. Normally, I drink at least 3 pints of water per day; in Stanley it is nearer 4 pints per day because we have developed the habit of drinking a lot to help make us feel full. With only 1½ pints we shall actually go thirsty, quite apart from feeling only half filled. All the tanks on the roofs will be turned off and this water will be saved for the daily issue of 1½ pints; at that rate of consumption the water in these tanks will last us about one month, after which we hope our big storage tanks will be complete, the new wells and dams in operation and our water supply under control. Hitherto we have always been able to draw as much chlorinated water as we wanted for drinking purposes, but now the drinking water is to be rationed, no more chlorinated water will be issued at all – so we really shall be reduced to 1½ pints of drinking water per day. I don’t know what I shall do about shaving. I suppose I shall just have to grow a beard again as I cannot shave with sea water.
Well, Yvonne and I have made all preparations possible: we have filled up 12 empty soy bottles with chlorinated water; we have filled up our big aluminium saucepan and innumerable small tins with fresh water (the aluminium saucepan is of Chinese make and is extremely thin and fragile. We exchanged it with the Armstrong’s when they left us years ago, for a 1½ or 2 pint English made saucepan which we brought into camp with us. The relative sizes suited the Armstrong’s and the remaining people then in this room, and now we are glad of it because it is our only big container – it holds about 1 gallon of water. (The Bidwell’s and Lammert’s are well off, as they have a bucket and an enamel baby’s bath.) Y and I have also washed all we could lay our hands on – I ended up by taking the very shirt I was wearing off my back and washing that! I meant to draw a comic picture of a man sitting miserably in bed wrapped up in a blanket and a woman in the foreground saying, “What’s the matter with George, is he ill?” and the wife replying, “No; I’ve washed all his clothes,” for everyone has been washing for dear life and many people are almost in that condition! Well, we ain’t got much money, but we do see life! The thing is to maintain one’s sense of humour; then things don’t seem quite so grim.
One minor and somewhat peculiar effect that this water shortage will have on me is that it will drive me to wearing shoes again! During most of this summer, Y and I, together with about half the people in camp, took to going about with bare feet. We did this through sheer necessity – in order to save our shoes for the winter when it will be too cold to go shoeless and when one’s shoes must have soles in order to protect one’s socks. Some time ago I turned shoemaker and stitched a pair of rubber soles onto a pair of Yvonne’s shoes. The soles had been cut from an old motor tyre and sent in to Maudie on a pair of wooden clogs, and these she gave to Y. For twine I had to unravel a piece of lamp wick. I’m afraid this twine is far from strong, but we can’t even use string here, simply because there isn’t any. I feel quite proud of my efforts and now we have one pair of sound (or semi-sound) shoes each. So we went barefoot (as I did ages ago in Ceylon) and our feet grew really leathery underneath. We gardened and all with bare feet. Of course, this meant we had to wash our feet each night before we went to bed. But with this water shortage it will be almost impossible to spare water for feet washing, which means I shall either have to wear shoes – or put on socks before I get into bed!