Thursday 16th November 1939

NCO i/c Meals today. With 60 extra men it’s quite impossible to get any sort of order or comfort in the dining hall. Squeezed together like sardines, we feed like pigs. “Good food, but poor system” said a militiaman succinctly.

Wet, miserable day. Horrible morning, out on a signals scheme. I decided to dodge rugger after all but when I heard Hammick agree to turn out I simply had to do the same. I played in Army boots, ordinary socks and a borrowed shirt, as the only sports kit I possess is a pair of shorts. Well, I did not distinguish myself but at the same time was not an obvious ass.

It was rather fun, the roughness and rolling in the mud! Once after a desperate grapple, I heard the captains voice, as I hit the ground, “Well tackled Dawson!” That is the first time I have ever received any encouragement in a football game!
It shook my wind and tired me though. The game only lasted an hour, but I’d had enough by then and walked off the field coughing like hell. (Someone must have fallen on my chest I think.)

After tea, Ling and I and two specialists sat talking around the blazing fire in the specialists’ stores. Very snug, in the firelight, and chummy.