We who were just arrived were paid this morning. With but one rupee left in my pocket, it was grand, I have a few more. Relatively speaking, I was a millionaire again - could hold my head up, and I had not to deny myself of the little luxuries that make the difference between merely existing and living.
Having some navigation kit to hand in, I returned to Mauripur where I had my dinner. The meals were really well served up, the service was good. Perhaps they were ignorant of the mess at our Barracks. I hardly think so.
It was a hot day and the heat reflected back off the sand making my skin feel dry and my mouth parched. The dazzling brilliance hurt my eyes. I ad not time to become accustomed to this type of country.
I met old "Jock" Clelland at the mess, and spend some time with him. We used to be in the same squad about two years ago at Babbacombe.
Having returned the necessary kit, I decided to start walking, and was later picked up by a Squadron Leader in a small lorry. He was a pleasant person to talk to, really human, and he pointed out several things of interest to me.
That night, I remained in camp and went to the canteen. It was strange, being able to walk up and order eggs once more.
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