Читать книгу Sand In My Shoes: Coming of Age in the Second World War: A WAAF’s Diary - Joan Rice - Страница 54

On Monday Boompsie and I, having no money (Boompsie is sharing my room as it is too large for one), lit the fire, turned on the wireless, got out books, mending etc. and looked sadly at two oranges, two pieces of chocolate cake and three tired tomato-flavoured cheeses. Suddenly there was a knock at the door which I, doing a French exercise and cursing, answered. And there stood Joyce with a car and £1. I pulled on my coat over my tattered slacks (my decent pair have been being cleaned for the last three weeks and I am too poor to reclaim them), my blue shirt and my yellow jacket and we drove down to the local fish and chip shop before returning to the fireside with fish and chips and lemonade and ginger beer. Joyce stayed till 11.30 and we laughed practically continuously.

Yesterday after meeting Mother I went on to my French class where Professor Bolitho told me of his love affairs, beginning at the age of eleven and apparently yet unended, with the seduction of a Girl Guide captain as the highlight. I enjoyed hearing it. I enjoyed discussing the varying moral outlooks of English and Europeans. I enjoyed his constant praise of me with remarks such as ‘J' aime les jeunes filles robustes fortes comme vous’. It did me good but after I left him my exit was shattered by the fact that I tripped and sprawled down the first flight of his stairs.

Going from there, I hurried through the rain to Lyons Corner House to meet dear old Margot Ainscough from Shell, in the uniform of an ATS.²¹ We went from there to the Regent Palace Bar where we discussed the varying lives of WAAF and ATS greatly to the Air Force's favour – so much so, in fact, that she's going to see if she can't get a transfer to the WAAF.

Before I forget, snappy Service sayings: ‘Up with the lark and to bed with the Wrens’; RAF = ‘running after fluff’.