Читать книгу Sand In My Shoes: Coming of Age in the Second World War: A WAAF’s Diary - Joan Rice - Страница 29

I'm sitting before our fire, throwing out heat for once, having just finished a violent spring-clean of the room. Monday evening is the only time it gets any attention, Tuesday being an inspection. We both of us get up too late other days to do anything but get ourselves to work on time.

Having forgotten to buy any flowers and there being no more in the gardens to steal I've piled four oranges and an apple on a plate for ornament and feel I owe it to the room not to eat them. Sitting where I am I fortunately can't see them.

I wrote to Eric on Friday saying would he ‘phone me over the weekend to arrange a meeting’. He didn't and there's been no word today. I'm resigned now to it having been an illusion, an unreal impossible dream, but oh dear I would so have liked to have gone.