I go to 10 Charles Street and find that Louise is in so we nip out for a quick one in the Brevet Club. Later we join Charlie Colledge in Tommy’s Bar, some private joint in Dover Street, and consume Pimms. I then call up Monica, and am told to come round to her new address on Saturday, which is today. So we go on boozing and wander round the joints, and I go home with the idea of clearing my system of Louise, which I hope that I have.
Friday I go to Chandos to Baffy’s and Colin Coote is there, and the spinach eating dame, and all very interesting. Later Bill appears in the Wings Club, also Keith McDiarmid and a beautiful WAAF in disguise, Eileen Hawkins.We have tea, then Bill and I go to the Berkeley to drink with the Neaves, of The Hague (JDW: Airey Neave, who had escaped from Colditz, worked for MI9, and was later a conservative politician assassinated by the IRA), then Shepheard’s and on to the Brevet Club with Keith and the WAAF and I get so waterlogged that I have to leave before closing time and stagger home to bed, chewing ovaltine tablets as I have had no dinner.
Today I book my passage home for tomorrow and organise a tweed jacket and greyers (JDW: trousers), which I put on and take Joan Linton, George’s wife, out to beer and lunch. It’s a bit difficult as there seems to be a sort of barrier between us – God only knows why, but long silences etc. Roll on the day!
I nip over to town on a “Charlie” as some people call it, and am now in the Wings Club observing the election results. Yesterday I go to a party at Ellen’s, taking a bottle of rum with me, and there is a beautiful blonde there called Jane, and like the Daily Mirror’s Jane too, though a bit young and does not speak too much English – and wears glasses! Anyhow I do a bit of cheek to cheek dancing and get shivers all down my spine when she starts breathing down my starboard ear – quite unintentionally. I am sort of barman and dispense to all and sundry, getting to bed by 1am. Bart and Betty are there, demanding that their glasses be filled up, also Hans and Freddy, so I am well in. Anton too – with his car just swiped by the Military Police. Today I sneak out to the airfield, and ought to return on Sunday, though I would like to stay until Monday – or would I?
I ring up Monica at her office, and am told rather curtly to ring later at 7.30pm, when she will be at home and packing, so it looks as though I have “had it” once more. What to do with the bottle of champagne that I bought her – also a pair of silk stockings for 125 cigarettes. I shall miss a damned good party on Saturday with Freddy and Henry. I always enjoy coming in over the English coast and looking down at houses and gardens and seafronts. I wish the “day would dawn” soon, or perhaps I am condemned to a bachelor’s life. I have got over Louise – and am afraid that if I ever collect someone I shall then meet someone better later on, and wish I hadn’t jumped first time. And become a second Johnny Benbow. However, “press on irregardless” – as I am so fond of saying.
I have another session with the Van Bergers and we go and call on one Ellen something, who speaks English with a strong American accent and has a voice like Popeye. The Wynbergs had previously introduced me to one Tilly, who has a face like a Pekinese and not much nose. On Friday or so I get a letter from Iris that she cannot come to this dance on Saturday as a friend of hers is coming down from Germany to see her – presumably the Guardsman. So on Saturday morning I go down to look at these two dames with a view to taking one of them to Valkenburg on Saturday. Tilly looks shocking by daylight, so I escape after making some excuse about fixing up a tennis afternoon, and nip across the street to see this Ellen dame. She looks a bit grim too, but I coordinate her, and take her out in the jeep. Is she hot – whoa! We do not drink much, and spend alot of time necking in long chairs, and my uniform now stinks of ‘Je Reviens’, though fortunately there don’t seem to be much lipstick on it. I put her home at 1.30 but am not invited in so that’s that.
Yesterday I play tennis out at Wassenaar and then lie on a couch listening to Will Wynberg playing the guitar, and watching a swaying poplar through his window, with no cigarettes.
I arrange to take the gallant Iris to Rotterdam, but she rings up and leaves a message that she is sick. I am out at Hilversum trying to get a spare wheel for the jeep, which I do, and am desolated. So I have a few drinks at the Club, dinner with Betty and Bart, and am in bed by 9.30pm, but don’t sleep particularly well. Next evening I go round to the Van Bergers again, but they produce no women and I sulkily consume a bottle of rum with them. The fair Luki shows up, also her fiance, one Robert Van Gudder who was at Harrow the same term as I. Tonight I arrange myself a visit to Bill and Yvonne Wynberg, whether they like it or not, and tomorrow a return match with the Van Bergers, and only one bottle of rum left, so I don’t quite know how I shall spin it out. The gallant Iris is elusive all week, though she has contracted to go to a dance at the Valkenburg Mess on Saturday. However I can never get her alone at that sort of party, so that’s that.
I hope to nip over to London next week, but if we go over to Transport Command and W/C Pippett, I suppose I shall have had it – as I shall any day now, when I get orders to return to the Indian Army.
I go round to see the Van Bergens and find some pongo Major called Mick already there. So Henry and I go out and collect another called Hanni – pronounced ‘Honey’ – and he really is a master – a blonde whoa! However this Mick guy is out to do his worst and to sleep in the house, all four of them, so after some red and white liberated wine and half a bottle of my rum I return to bed after an animated discussion on aircraft with Hans. My sleep is disturbed by this dame and I feel a little shagged today, to say the least of it.
Henry invites me to a party out at Wassenaar, and the gallant Iris is there and we dance around. I go out fairly tight and get away about 2.30 before they start to break the joint up. Yesterday I fly over in an Auster to wake them up and Henry comes out onto his balcony to wave. After lunch I take Iris out to the beach near Wassenaar and we swim amongst a host of jellyfish and lie on the beach in the sun and a miniature sandstorm. She has a party that night so I do not see her, but I have met Lou at the previous night’s show and have an introduction from him. I go round there about 7pm with a bottle of rum and a tin of tomato juice and he has a bar in his house and a radiogram, and we have quite a party. I meet one Freddie, a red-headed dame who says she is divorced, and we get on damned well. I take her home eventually, and upstairs her husband is in bed – a second one that she had no mentioned. However, she says she will fix me up with one ‘Luki’, so I tentatively arrange to go round there tonight, though whether the fair Luki will be there I do not not know.
I do two Auster trips – dual of course, one with Apie Hoekstra and we wander about over Wassenaar and Noordijk seeing a dump on V2s and a miniature submarine on the beach. George Linton has just come back from a weekend in the UK and I shall hope to go some time this month, if we are still our own boss and not under 18 SP at Valkenburg.
I have Henry Druce in to dinner at the Club plus his dame, and an English girl who works in his outfit, one Doris Peake, such a beautiful blonde that it isn’t true. Once Anning, Lt Commander Philips and the Town Major and I were having lunch in the Club when she appeared with some guardsman and we are practically put off our food! Anyway, when I go out to Henry’s for that boating party I see her there and shake a limpid hand, though she doesn’t come out on the party. So I tell Henry to bring her in, and much to my surprise he does. We then go to the Metropole and dance around, where she improves, being a little frigid it seems, and then back to my room for some beer.
The next day I go to this Teddy, Hoekstra’s friend., with a half bottle of rum, and tell her that we cannot go to Noordwijk as my jeep lights are U/S. She is livid and makes all sorts of practical suggestions which I find great difficulty in turning down. We drink the rum and dance round the flat to three broken records, with pieces missing, and I eventually score a home base. Next day I go out to Wassenaar to collect Iris and have dinner there, going to a cinema later – the Club where we encountered Leslie Wall, and then to his flat to brew tea. I take Iris home, and suggest tomorrow, but no good, so maybe I have ‘had’ her too. She goes out with a guardsman from Rotterdam, one George Broderick, and she seems a bit distant with me, so maybe she is in love with him – hell, but she’s a beauty.