In January, 1943, a school is opened in our block. What a marvel. I have something to occupy my mind instead of all my despondent and self-pitying thoughts. I avail myself of a short-hand course and revel in putting my brain to work. It also helps that we start to get paid again. Now with money, I purchase all sorts of goodies from a trader—sweets, bread, and even a toothbrush and hairbrushes. I buy some Stephens writing ink that is from Britain. It cost me six pennies and that night I use it to write in my diaries. To my utter disgust, I have wasted my money. The ink is watery and I have to keep overwriting my sentences so that they are legible.
One of the captains lends me a novel by E W Hornung called Mr Justice Raffles. It is an interesting tale about a British gentleman thief and cricketer. I enjoy chatting with the captain once I have finished it.
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