I never see Marika again, and spend most evenings in bed with a book. Eventually I am taken to look at Land’s End and Cape Cornwall but am not very impressed and come up to London on Friday and stay at the Wings Club. Mike Jacobs, who is working in the United Pool of Artists, comes in and I fill him up with gin, so that he has to retire in the middle of dinner, whilst I make a fairly reasonable pass at a blonde waitress called Mary, and I eventually have to see him to the front door and home.
Saturday I have lunch at the Cafe Royal with Mike and his fiance Lena Barrie, but he is half and hour late and we do not finish until 3pm and then dive into a news flick. Louise takes me to the Wellington on Saturday night, but not a very successful party, though a lot of money gone down the drain. She sits in for an hour at the Wings afterwards, but what can I do, though I am sure she is a waste of time, even if she wasn’t going to the States next week.
Sunday I see McKilligan, ex my Maungdaw flight and ex-Malaya, and have a few beers in the Wings Club with him, and we reminisce on Ambala days. Marnie Lowry comes to lunch and is then thrown out by the porter at 2.30pm and I get on a train to Swindon. Today I am told I need an X-ray and will not be going to Loughborough, but to the other place, near Oxford – when? Christ.
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