Flying and sailing – the flying not too good as I seem to misjudge my landings on the mark, even from 600′ as well as from 2000′. The 8’s aren’t too bad though they are not consistent at 600 feet. But today I try again and land within 20′ of the sheet every time but one, doing 40 minutes altogether.
Yesterday took Elsie out in the regatta, both her and her sister and two Mocketts. Marjorie said she wanted to come too. We get beaten by Gibbs and Thyne. We have tea there, Willie, John and I (at 1/8 a head, christ!) and then Elsie drops me at the Maynards where I change before going on to the Connemara early night. The party consists of Mr and Mrs, another married couple, Leslie, Marjorie and Eve. Willie and John were there too, very drunk. Most enjoyable, and after 10pm back to their house for sandwiches and beer. Chicken sandwiches, tongue and sausage rolls, and beer in tall thin cut glass tankards. Simply wonderful. Eve is a kind girl and sensible. Then Leslie takes me home, my suitcase is put on the front seat next to him, Marjorie gets in the back, and there’s room for me too. A pleasant drive home, and I feel compelled to kiss her a few times properly. She seems more responsive than usual too. Back in bed by 11.45, after a damn good night.
Two new chaps in the Wilts come out from home – one Scarlett (Colonel!) is 30, was a civil servant before the war, is now a 2nd Lt. John and he and his pal and Dickie Bird gave a party on Elliott’s beach the other night. I swam, it was rather pleasant, and the Colonel insisted in going in in his glasses and then wondered why he lost them in the surf. But Mrs Buller would not allow Marjorie to go. “No”, she said to me, “I have to draw the line somewhere, and I draw it at moonlight picnics, until she’s 21!” The poor sweet being now just 19. At about 12.30pm a figure was seen lurching across the sand and it turned out to be Bill in his pyjamas and dressing gown. He had gone to bed, and ordered a taxi surrepticiously and come on down to Elliott’s beach.
Flying and sailing – the flying not too good as I seem to misjudge my landings on the mark, even from 600′ as well as from 2000′. The 8’s aren’t too bad though they are not consistent at 600 feet. But today I try again and land within 20′ of the sheet every time but one, doing 40 minutes altogether.
Yesterday took Elsie out in the regatta, both her and her sister and two Mocketts. Marjorie said she wanted to come too. We get beaten by Gibbs and Thyne. We have tea there, Willie, John and I (at 1/8 a head, christ!) and then Elsie drops me at the Maynards where I change before going on to the Connemara early night. The party consists of Mr and Mrs, another married couple, Leslie, Marjorie and Eve. Willie and John were there too, very drunk. Most enjoyable, and after 10pm back to their house for sandwiches and beer. Chicken sandwiches, tongue and sausage rolls, and beer in tall thin cut glass tankards. Simply wonderful. Eve is a kind girl and sensible. Then Leslie takes me home, my suitcase is put on the front seat next to him, Marjorie gets in the back, and there’s room for me too. A pleasant drive home, and I feel compelled to kiss her a few times properly. She seems more responsive than usual too. Back in bed by 11.45, after a damn good night.
Two new chaps in the Wilts come out from home – one Scarlett (Colonel!) is 30, was a civil servant before the war, is now a 2nd Lt. John and he and his pal and Dickie Bird gave a party on Elliott’s beach the other night. I swam, it was rather pleasant, and the Colonel insisted in going in in his glasses and then wondered why he lost them in the surf. But Mrs Buller would not allow Marjorie to go. “No”, she said to me, “I have to draw the line somewhere, and I draw it at moonlight picnics, until she’s 21!” The poor sweet being now just 19. At about 12.30pm a figure was seen lurching across the sand and it turned out to be Bill in his pyjamas and dressing gown. He had gone to bed, and ordered a taxi surrepticiously and come on down to Elliott’s beach.
A Story of War 
Leave a Reply