Rumsey and I go out to dinner with a battleship, one Mrs Wall, and drink King George IV scotch. Next day we take her to a “pufaled” gymkhana (JDW: anyone know what this means?), which is pleasantly reminiscent of pre-war days with a band, and a musical ride by the Mysore Lancers. I get in some squash and 14 days leave approved by AOC after this exercise, but expect I shall get malaria instead. “Cheese” Gordon killed in Italy.
Here I sit in my office doing nothing. Smith (GIII Air Southern Army) shares my telephone. Weather warmer now but I don’t sleep too well despite my heavy squash and much walking from the Club to the West End, some 2 miles.
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