Saturday

This morning's parade was a swagger parade. The whole school marches in spaced three's round the entire large square. On the inside are the Pres who march the opposite way. We salute them on the march continuously Eventually Spra sends off those he thinks good enough so the last three could be there ages.

Kit cheek by the C.S.M. I've lost my third hairbrush which I never use and still have my original comb (well about three quarters of it), We also had medical inspection, lying on our beds with just towels wrapped around us. The corporal has to be inspected too so we get a preview of things to come. I still have difficulty telling prefects from N.C.O's and W.O,'s so anyone in long trousers gets called Sir. I hear on the grapevine that we are soon to have some civilian teachers so that could clear things up a bit. Tonight there was a film show in the Assembly Hall sitting on benches from the gym. The sound was good for once but the film was in German (Kameradshaft).

Sunday

This is the best day, after parade and chapel that is. Strange how the period before breakfast is the time when most fights seem to take place. It must be the end of the week for settling up.

After lunch till five o'clock seems a long time free but it soon goes exploring the cliffs and the castle. Last week we found an unprimed anti-personnel mine which yielded over 50 ball bearings. Someone in my dorm knows a Lance Corporal who does guard duty at the Castle and sometimes we can get beans on toast and tea (sweet always). We got hopelessly lost in some passages we entered in the moat and ended up right inside the castle.

There is always that moment returning from the pylons, as the clock face becomes discernable, when you realise you have to cover the last half mile to the dining hall in two and a half minutes or go without tea. The duty CSM can be absolutely strict about this.

Evening service on dark evenings with the alter candles lit, a few familiar hymns seems so comfortable an end to the week. Its difficult to imagine, in that setting, that shells and bombs have left street after street of Dover in ruins, that sweets and even bread are rationed and that ones family is miles away.

Then its Sunday pies, hot cocoa (sweet this week) boots and buttons cleaned, bed and spinning out after lights out. Somehow the pattern seems set for eternity.