JULY 1943

Yesterday they arrested Mussolini. The BBC announcer said that Hitler’s ‘utensil’ had fallen off the Axis shelf. I was sitting in the pub by myself when the news came through. The landlord got out the monthly ration of whisky to celebrate what he said looked like the end. He offered me some, but I said no. Then he said that the Yanks would probably have to go over to Italy to clean up. He said he’d miss them. I felt a door closing inside of me. I looked up at him. He asked me again if I wanted a whisky. I nodded. He knew what he’d said. At least I have to give him that. It was still bright out, so I walked home the long way round to give myself some time to think. As I passed the church hall it occurred to me just how difficult it is to come by cosmetics, nail files, hair grips and the like. I’d never had much reason to fret over them before. Such things had never mattered. But now I found myself thinking that I could kill for a bar of scented soap.