A Story of War

I move over to Poulton. “Ash” and I cycle into town and meet two dames of his staying at the Grosvenor. One Regina Grahame and Eve Porter, the former a Manchester typist with a shocking accent. We drink at the ‘Pied Bull’, then back to her room for some ‘Canadian Club’ which I have brought in with me. Eve comes in with two RAF types, but they go out again – very obviously – and I get busy. This Regina dame is like a cold fish and I get her lined up on the bed and she moans she is a good girl and how she thought I was different to most men, so I get bored and leave at 11.30 and cycle home through the rain to bed.

‘Ash’ – Farrell Ashdown RCAF – is a helluva lad. Today I do a bit of office work then spend an hour in a decompression chamber up to 25000′ – going up without oxygen and writing damn silly things on a bit of paper.

No squash court here – no exercise – no word out of Mhairi – no posting!