Sunday 11th January 1942

Took a taxi to the Trans-Jordanian Frontier at Allenby Bridge and had a thrill by walking across and looking at the Evair's flag outside the customs house. The Jordan looked a dirty, muddy old river. We came back on foot, first through a land of what Jack called “geological freaks” - scores of hills, and deep wadies, of a curious type of dry mud, absolutely dead and lifeless.

This scramble lasted about an hour – and we should have probably lost our way if we hadn't kept within hill top view of the road – until we reached a flat miredam which stretched right to the green-ness of Jericho. Ankles and knees were tingling pleasantly by the time we got back and our faces burning from the fresh air.