A Story of War

I do much battling with Thunderbolts over the Wrekin – but without much success. “Sawn Off” and I go to the Bear on Saturday night and I end up with Charlie Rich at midnight with coffee and a pork pie with two dames in a house in Garden City. We are then turned out. Yesterday I play tennis all afternoon at the King-Hays, followed by some family bridge and return exhausted at about midnight.

No postings, as there is a bottleneck in F.T.C. and I go over to fly Hurricanes tomorrow from Chetwynd. I do an I.F. cross-country which is pretty erratic and I don’t seem to be much of a pilot at all, or to know much about this flying business. But then I really know nothing much about anything, and should read to improve my education. My mind seems forever on one thing – and that I cannot have, or get rather – though I seem to spend many hours planning and thinking about it. What of the future? Nothing much to look forward to – I doubt they will keep me in the RAF and I now know nothing about the Indian Army – I have even forgotten Urdu.

Quien sabe? I’m getting fat and even beaten at squash too.