“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.
Walk March 