I take the Wren to Tregenna – C.P.O. Doreen Songthe. We later sit and drink Canadian Club in Gibson’s back garden room amongst all my luggage. Yesterday tea and supper with her, Ma and her aunt at various times and end up smoking cigarettes in the dark in her aunt’s flat, as we cannot find the blackout bandobast. But that’s as far as I get, though I contract to go over and see her at Helston on Friday. I write to Mhairi again whilst full of Bass from the Sloop, a most peculiar letter, so I expect I shall dry her up altogether.
“Salute the Soldier” week here and Yanks marching all over the town. I platt squash on Sunday morning with one Molly Allan, games mistress at Down’s School, removed here, and sweat out a pint or two of gin.
A Story of War 