Tuesday. July 16. Red letter day. Two R.F.C. parcels arrived, dated May 31st, and directed to Hannover. Both intact except for a cake of soap, alas! Still, cleanliness, though next to godliness, is a bad second to ones tummy in Graudenzlager. Rather perturbed to hear my friends remark how thin I look. Usually people you meet every day are slow to see a difference in you. Still, thank God I feel fit again. I’m sharing parcels with Miller, a very decent little Scotchman from Glasgow. You will never quite realise at home the delicious taste of that first tin of Haricot Mutton.