Tuesday 26th March 1935

Spent the afternoon in tinting undercoats. Made a filthy mess of myself.

At present, My Colour Shop mates are Sergt. Sid Gale, the foreman, Bugler Woodward, Privates Barwell and Hallsworth, Jack Wooders, Bill Hopkins and Vic Howard. (The latter is my “boss” at present, being the department boy, in charge of canning up and tank stirring.)

Thank heavens! The winter is past!

Plans for this summer –
Much laughter and sport in the sunshine.
Dreams.
Quietness, sometimes.
Many friends to play the ass and adventure with.
No love affairs.
A little more money to spend than I have now.
These are my desires for the summer that is coming!

After writing the above, I attacked my homework.
Did my chemmy. Calculations – a mathematical idiot like myself gets great satisfaction from plodding through calculations successfully – and then began writing out some P.V. and E. notes. Interrupted by a loud Yorkshire voice – Brockwell! Wanted me to move into his digs forthwith, while there is a vacancy. I’d like to – but not until the autumn.

Glad one of my friends is neither emotional, sentimental nor a dreamer.