Saturday 10th July 1943

"In sad cypress (or Cyprus) let me be laid,” says John, “I'm resigned to death now, but why don't the bastards allow me to see a priest, so that I can die in the Catholic faith?”

Today came the great news that Sicily had been invaded. This aroused little interest in the magdnoon ward, except from Store, who thinks this talk of Sicily is all part of the scheme to murder him. “Why do you keep on saying Sicily has been invaded?” he asked suspiciously, no doubt thinking of some obscure and sinister symbolism. “Why? Because it has been bloody well invaded, that's why!” replied someone. “I shall not believe until I see it in print. The papers don't lie,” said poor John firmly, feeling for his heart.

It is now 9:20p.m. - almost lights out – and I'm enjoying a Gold Flake as I write this. Evenings are alright, after 7p.m., for although it is still hot, there are no flies or winds. the forenoons, too, are bearable. But the afternoons are ghastly – full of heat, eddies of wind and flies. Although I am generally conscious of time and life racing past, slipping away, I never regret the passing of the hours between noon and about 7p.m. It is just a question of holding-on, existing wearily, until they are gone.