Читать книгу Sand In My Shoes: Coming of Age in the Second World War: A WAAF’s Diary - Joan Rice - Страница 27

Joyce is sitting on the floor with her feet in our beastly little fire which is sulking because I've made it burn, reading half aloud Clement Dane's Will Shakespeare and being anxious because she's forgetting how to act. I am lying on the bed in my issued vest and pants, a jumper, slacks, a cardigan, and a dressing gown and am only just warm.

Last night both of us went to an airmen's dance way down in East Camp and had a very good time, meeting up again only when it was time to return, I feeling especially lucky in finding a North Country airman who could actually dance. We got in about one o'clock and consequently feel more than a little jaded now, especially after the perfectly beastly day. Our dearly beloved, our cherished Mrs Rowley has left us to go to Air Ministry. There's a faint hope that she may only be attached and not posted but it's too dim to comfort our desolate souls. I was surprised to find how much people had been jealous of me working for her and being made an ACW1. One girl (aren't women delightful en bloc?) went so far as to tell me that I was through and would be shipped to West Drayton without delay. West Drayton to the WAAF is what the most dreaded German concentration camp is to a Jew.¹² Fortunately I am still well installed here and shall go on working for whoever is our next CO but I shall miss Mrs Rowley.

You remember Eric who brought me home from King's Cross? When I was over at Bunty's on Sunday she told me that he had urgently phoned her up for my address and was much smitten.