Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Thursday 2nd September 1943

Paced 10 furlongs yesterday; same today. It is irritating to watch my companions in misfortune tramping up and down, turning around sharply every 50 paces or so. It too closely resembles the restless prowling of caged animals, perhaps. Doubtless the spectacle of myself exercising is equally irritating to others.

This morning I was permitted to emerge from the compound on parole and go to Occupational Therapy. I think this was due to William's efforts on my behalf. He is depressed these days and thinks there is now little hope of going home this year. I am similarly gloomy.

I wonder what Captain Colville and the authorities at Sarafend would think if they knew of our adventures. We are both confident that they thought we were really going home when we left with the convoy that day. Ah! If only we could go back there and be free as we were then, and among the greenery instead of in this desert, where we are treated as trouble-makers and insubordinates.

Occupational Therapy is no longer peaceful. The drawing department is full now and there are some very noisy types.


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