I went to the pictures with John. We saw a daft American film, one of those
where they keep breaking into song and dance.
Not very realistic. And its
alright for that lot, having a good time while we’re at war. John behaved himself in the pictures but
while walking me home he took advantage of the black out. He tasted like old beer. I’ve said I’ll see him again when he gets off
the camp next week. I felt like I should
say that after letting him take advantage, it would seem a bit loose to only let
him do it once. Mrs F is at Edie
Bagshaw’s as I write. I wonder if she’s
found anything out?
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