Sunday. Nov 3. Feel none too well. Thought I wouldn’t get up – decided to eventually. Lying on my bed all day with British warm on. Felt a bit faint before supper, but it passed off. Ate a good supper. Felt chronically rotten; went out with Duce into the cold corridor to get some air, and I knowed no more!! Later woke from perfectly glorious dreams of Arcady to find myself back in this hole and on my bed in the tender clutches of an English M.O. who ordered me to bed.
