Sunday 12th April 1942

A pretty easy day. In the afternoon, quite a crowd of us went to the Mena House swimming pool. (After the hot, sticky battle dress and boots, our drill slacks and shirts and light shoes seem just heavenly.)
Tom Gibbon is lying on his bed philosophising on the afternoon's events:

“... All though it's nice down here, I'm happier in my heart, in the Bluey. You know, when we're at a place like that pool... you see families there... and fellows with their girls... but we're quite apart from them all... animals... foreigners... you notice the lack of friendliness. People at home will never realise how many hours each day we spend in thinking of home... and we find it worse here than in the Bluey, don't we? Here, we see the things we can't have, all around us... If that pool had been in England, you wouldn't be there alone or with a few mates who've been with you all the time and are as lonely as you are. No, you'd be with friends, or a girl, or your family. Maybe you'd meet people you knew, too. You'd not be cut off from everyone, like you are here. Loneliness. That's why a lot of blokes get drunk, I reckon.... Loneliness.”