Saturday (8th February 1919)

“Chum” leaves me tonight.  She put up a record performance this morning; shied at nothing, shot out her colossal heels in discouragement of any rear attack, and set out at an elephantine gallop homewards.  Dick was shot some time ago – his foot wouldn’t heal.  So he swells the unprinted Roll of Honour – worked to death winning the War – a gentle and patient chap throughout.

We have heaps of fuel, the best being a form of briquette.

Supper last night – bits of bred and bacon saved from mess, and cornflour made in a leaky cake tin.  Also made some jelly, but upset it on the floor.

9 p.m.  To Madame Butterfly, presented with perfect scenery; and long familiarity with the music delightfully reminiscent.  Excellent performers, though, by a perversity of chance, they were of gigantic stature, and hardly adaptable to the Japanese toddle.

Now for the criminal side of my career.  I obtained entrance by two bribes – 2 m. for a ferret-eyed flunkey, and 1 m. for Madame of the Garderobe.  My old Hun informed me he had seen Tanhauser between 200 and 300 times, roaring some of it in my ear.

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