27th November 1945
My Darling Janie,
As I told you I went sick today so as to get this lump on my thigh examined.
The Medical Officers were definitely interested and I had to stand up and lie down and they waggled my leg all over the place, prodded and poked me.
They won’t commit themselves but suggest that it may be a cyst (which is, of course, my opinion). You can feel a soft sort of lump underneath the muscle.
Anyhow I have been to the surgical specialist and I now await an appointment with him and more prodding and poking and I suppose the usual X-ray.
What happens if they prove a cyst I can’t imagine—I suppose they’ll want to cut it out. So you can see I’ve got to be careful as I’m going to mess my holidays up. I suppose if an operation is indicated I’ll be able to talk them in to leaving till after Xmas.
Of course all this is pure supposition and is the product of a mind that wants some reason for not going overseas again so that I can stick around somewhere near your dear self and get on with the work I want to do so that I don’t have to stay up in London taking courses after I’m de-mobbed.
I do hope that the foregoing hasn’t worried you at all because I didn’t mean it to. It honestly doesn’t worry me. The lump in question is just the same as it has been for the last six months—no pain, no loss of movement, just a lump. I just got the urge to have it attended to so off I went.
I don’t suppose that I’ll see the specialist of at least a week—it was nearly three weeks last time and I’m certainly not going to hurry them for while they are messing me about the can’t post me somewhere.
The colonel is very ill in hospital. The story is that he is having injections every two hours that are turning him black so what all that means I haven’t the least idea.
The Saturday morning optical class is a great success and some were plotting some more lectures but I pointed out that the present programme lasts till the middle of January and that by the end of that month most of them would be de-mobbed.
The reason for the writing paper is that my appointment was for 11am and I was back in the Mess by twenty past, no waiting at all. So rather than fag all the way to the office and back I came into the writing room to write to you. I was due to do that sometime today anyway.
The Medical Officer who examined me told me it was his last day in the army and all the other officers there were in de-mob—hold me down somebody!
I went to get some records yesterday and I got five out of six of the ones i asked for. The assistant stared at me agog as one after another were ‘in stock’.
12” children’s overture (for RHB)
12 “ Jealousy (Boston Promenade)
10” Peanut Vendor (Louis Armstrong)
10” Begin the Beguine (Joe Loss)
All right, wait for it:
10” I’ll see you again (Brooke and Zeigler)
A first class bunch. I’ll bring them down with me on Saturday week.
All for now my sweet as I’m getting hungry.
All my love is yours as ever and also Anthony’s.
Take great care and gt rid of that cough.
And I’m still your very own,