Three days of fog which lift yesterday afternoon, whilst I am out with George Thornton getting some four dozen eggs. Steve got a bar to his DFC for a photo run down the Rhine by Emmerich the other day, and does the honours in champagne. I manage to do a No.1 successfully in area 4, but my engine oils up over Arnhem on the way home, and I am sweating all the way down to the soles of my feet, as it’s damn rough and I see nowhere for a decent forced landing.
I also play rugger for 35 Wing against 123 and am pleased to be fitter than most on the field. Last night I go with a gang to Tilburg where we drink some gin and beer in the officers club and then go to a local dance, but not much good, and the scarcity of soap in Holland is very apparent.