A Story of War

I go up to town last weekend with W/C Briggs in the car. He was in 1 Coy at RMC (Sandhurst) and I meet Joan Anderson in Mayfair for dinner and dance. Whilst out with Wendy and the Pekinese I had met her in the Brevet Club and fixed up this date. I get on fairly well, and arrange to call her on Saturday afternoon, but get browned off and don’t, going out instead to the Bristol Grill with Bill Robinson and two of his girlfriends – Daphne, and Majorie Wheldon the American, now in the U.N.O. Secretariat. I go to the India office and some Brigadier thinks I should go back, and that they will be unlikely to let me go to the Burma Police as I was thinking. I give Baffy lunch and pour out my troubles to her, and she reckons the Indian Army is the best as there is a pension.

On Monday (21st) I invite one of the physiotherapists out for a drink, Angela Elliott , and we drink in a couple of pubs in Wallingford. Since then I have spent all my time thinking of her, taking her to India etc, though I’m sure I don’t know why. All last week I had this Joan on the brain.

On Monday night my room mate, one F/L Young, excels himself by coming to bed stinking and wetting the floor and fouling his counterpane. Today I am taking Angela out to dinner, and expect to be chucked out next week as fit.