Ground school again, and I’m supposed to pass 8’s in morse at the end of a fortnight. One Pete Mackenzie, a Canadian, and I go to town by bicycle and drink beer in the “Corbett Arms”. Then on to some party in some woman’s house where I talk to one Betty Fletcher (?), wife of a course pilot here, though now in hospital with measles. Same again last night, via much whisky (paid for by Betty) at the Stag’s Head.
I go to the Parish Hall where there is a dance, and only get in with great difficulty at 10.30, as no one allowed in after 9.30. Pete not there but I dance with his girlfriend, a WAAF MOT driver from the M.U. in mufti. No joy in Market Drayton I fancy, so what to do! A cook’s tour in an Anson yesterday, and never saw so many flying fields before. Hugh’s name in the visitors book, just before the war.
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