Saturday 23rd October 1943

28 furlongs.

As I write, I contentedly puff a cigarette, the ordeal is over.

My watch – always in action from summer 1940 until now – is broken. So, “What time is it, Joe?” “Twenty past, Steve.” (I didn't ask “twenty past what?” for I still remember how that innocent trick upset me, months ago!) Instead, I just paced up and down, and presently met Joe Meek again. “What time now?” “8:33” he said precisely, knowing why I asked. “Ah!” I said in relief, and filled and lit my pipe. It tasted good.

We do PT every morning now, in the compound. This has been going on for several days and now everyone feels stiff, especially in the legs. PT is the very thing we needed here though; do not get enough exercise.

That khamsin period a couple of weeks ago, really was the summer's last fling, I reckon. It is very cold in the mornings and early evenings now. And today has been stormy. About tea-time the sky darkened and a sudden rough, fresh wind set all the windows banging. A few minutes later great hailstones came clattering down, followed by heavy rain.

And “the thunder rolled and crashed, and the lightening flashed; then down came the rain...” As I wrote in my first “poem” at a very tender age!