London, Dec. 15.
How surprising it is to the women of us who have watched over the comfort of men's lives, attended to every detail—of their laundry, their fine linen, their taste in food, the exact hour at which they got their early morning tea, the quality of the tea, to find them returning on leave apparently not having missed one of these items. Yes, they have missed them in the sense that they have not been there, but the loss of them they have not noticed. Camp and barrack life, with its masculine toughness, its hard work and amusing company, gives them a contentment that we were not able to give, with all our loving care, Have we then been wrong in our standards? When all this is over will those same men (whom God grant be with us) once again want women's careful ministrations or will life be on a less luxurious basis?
The stories told by the voluntary workers of the police canteens (they work in shifts to cover every one of the twenty-four hours) proves that they think as highly of the Force and its good humour as do any visiting foreigners. Here are two stories going the rounds:
While bacon and egg, sausage and chips are the main dishes asked for, a relish is usually added and varies nightly. "Hot sauce tonight?" asks a helper. "Well, pyaps tonight PI have violets instead." "What," comes in a chorus from the others. "What, onions—and you going out with your girl" Then there is the man they call Shirley because he has gone bald under his helmet: "don't let him spend his spare cash on bacco, miss, "cos you see he needs it for his perm club."
If you see policemen chewing gum on the beat, you can reckon they are War Reserves. They miss their smokes tremendously; the canteens have to stock up to fifty different kinds of packets to satisfy these connoisseurs off duty—and "lollies" and. gum to content them between times.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.