Five days have been spent feverishly packing, unpacking and then re-packing, until at long last all my goods and chattels have found a home. Forthwith, I was issued with a mug and cutlery, and went down to tea. This is worthy of note since it acted rather like a plunge into the Serpentine on Christmas morning. It was Army Tea — enough said. Shortly afterwards, I was issued with bedding, which I learnt rapidly that I had to drag up six floors — 92 steps to be exact — to my room.
The latter proved to be quite nice and quite compact including wash basin. Pip Davis from Australia shared the room with me. I seemed to become attached to Felicity mostly, and we went out together that night. Her father came from Tipperary Ireland , so I guess that seals the knot. And so to bed. We spent the morning at the India Office, receiving respirators, tin hats, water bottles, identity papers etc.
After returning to the depot to deposit our new accessories and having climbed the 97 steps to our rooms, we decided on lunch — but not as supplied in depot. The afternoon grew more and more warm, until we almost fainted from fatigue in the attempt at finishing our vitae shopping. Tea had to be omitted, despite our desperate need, as parade was held at 5. Spit and polish was the order of the day since Dame Beryl Oliver arrived to inspect and address us. It was 7. We had been standing in rank for two hours.
After which, in order to deposit our comforts, we had to climb those wretched stairs again. Later, I went to Ealing — home — for a couple of hours and arrived back more than fit for bed at We rise at 6. We ache in every muscle. In the morning, we shopped. It was good in parts only. Tonight, Felicity and I, after many unsuccessful attempts at finding some grub, ended up at the Nuffield Club, where we suppered. We also danced there and made the acquaintance of a sergeant of the Intelligence Corps, who hailed from Berlin.
He was a Jew or perhaps just a political enemy of the Nazi Party who, through friends in the British Embassy, had found his way to England. His family were taken to a concentration camp — such as Belsen — where they had all died. He was well educated and extremely interesting. At the moment, he is writing a book on his experiences. Also, he has travelled most of the globe, so perhaps his name, Peter Benedix, is worthy of note. We enjoyed the show immensely.
