Tuesday June 25th. Getting into bed last night, putting my glasses on to a narrow ledge, I knocked off, I thought, my two studs down behind the ledge. One was a silver one which I got from Hanna before going on leave; and they are both as precious as gold, as they are so hard to get. I fumbled about behind the ledge, and searched in every hole and corner without result. I gave up the job in disgust, and proceeded to finish undressing, when I found them both. Still in my shirt! I think the Latin motto at the beginning of this diary is an ideal one for a pessimistic P.O.W. (prisoner of war)
〈Domi inopia, foris aes alienum,
Res mala, futurus multi asperior〉
〈At home want, abroad debts,
Things bad, future much worse〉
Great expectations from these Red Cross parcels which are supposed to be at the station.