I come up to town and find that I am out of the RAF on March 1st. A chap called Cam gives me 14 days leave at the India Office, but later increases it to 21 days, as the wedding is on 12th March and there is a draft sailing on the 15th. I sell my blue uniform to Moss Bros for £2 and my raincoat for 30/- and put on my old Sandhurst superfine barathea (JDW: a type of super soft material), enlarged somewhat, and not so well at the back, by “Flights”. I go out to christen it, and meet Ronald Deakin, a Major R.A., and we have quite a session at various bars, including the Brevet Club where he becomes a member. He later takes me home to his flat where I have a couple more scotches, and suddenly realise I have had it and go out and am sick, fortunately in the right spot. He then drives me home to Nuffield House.
Next day I come home straight to Stockenchurch, and Ma arrives a couple of days ago, and it’s damned cold and she is definitely off her best form. Yesterday I high-tail it to Moss Bros and hire a sword and meet Bernard Fergusson and Brigadier Sanders-Jacobs there. I appears that I have to make a speech, which will be difficult as I shall be overpowered by the other side – few DW supporters being present. It all doesn’t seem quite right, and yet it does!