He didn’t come up by the 4.33. He wasn’t born yesterday. He’s got his flying check. } He’s lost weight. } He’s joined the ’cellos. } He has died. He’s got in amongst it. } He’s gone in off the flush. } Have my card. That doesn’t deceive me. To get one’s diaphragm buzzing. To have a meal. He’s under the hoist. He doesn’t count. He’s mislaid his gum somewhere. He is off his head. There’s no hair on that egg. That’s no use. I should half. No, thank you. To come down butter-side up. To fall on one’s feet.
And so on and so on. I’m only gradually getting into the way of understanding what it all means; probably when I come home I shall just have begun to talk it!
Please tell Mrs. Rowlands that I have been under the Niagara Falls on a hydroplane. I haven’t been anywhere near them really, but I thought she’d like to hear that kind of thing....
Los Angeles, June 2, 1944. I told my host here that I wanted to go out and see the country a bit, and what was my surprise to be told that it is forbidden by the police! It appears that the whole of this country-side is entirely given up to the film industry, and there used to be so many accidents through people getting caught in prairie-fires, being trodden to death by wild buffaloes, falling into man-traps, getting cut off by artificial floods, and (worse than all) standing in the way when the pictures were actually being taken, that they had to issue a sort of special permit for film actors, and non-combatants (so to speak) have to keep within the area of the town itself. I was, however, allowed to fly over the country a bit, and saw, within the space of two hours, a volcano in explosion, two bull-fights, an _auto-da-fé_, and what looked like a lynching, but was really, I believe, a comic scene representing a man trying to get away from autograph hunters....
Boston, July 29, 1944. I went out to dinner with some very exclusive and old-fashioned people here, who, I was told afterwards, are Christian Scientists. They believe there is no such thing as pain, and no such thing as sin, which must be very comforting for them. They were started, I am told, by a Mrs. Eddy, whom they are expecting to reappear on earth very shortly.
I am beginning to be homesick already. I have not met many people here, except one young man, whom I thought rather interesting; but I had that odd feeling one gets sometimes that he didn’t like me. I’ll tell you about him later, perhaps. I feel rather lonely, and wanting to be back with you at dear Greylands.