The weather in Thailand, especially up country, in the months of January and February is almost perfect. Each morning for one hour after breakfast, it was really fresh, and the mist rose off the river and cleared away about ten o’clock as the sun got warmer. Then we’d go down to the hospital beach, a secluded bay of rocks and sand, and there we’d play chess or read under a gentle sun until about 12 or 12.30, by which time the sweat was beginning to run as the sun got higher, and into the river we went, lying in the shallows or idly swimming around the pool. Few people knew of this hospital pool and the only usual intruders were the small monkeys that came down to drink on the opposite bank. Ginger, who had broad, almost webbed feet, was as happy as a fish in the water, and was teaching the S.M.O. to dive without bending his knees and another doctor and me to do the crawl. The doctor was an ideal pupil and could do it well after only a fortnight; I got as far as the leg movement and the breathing, but we progressed no further because I got recurrent malaria and couldn’t go near the river. The S.M.O., after about 5,000 dives, decreased the angle of the bend of his legs by about 15 per cent. Idle days!

It was learning chess with Woolley that first introduced me at all to Dutch Eurasians. By far the best player in the camp was one of these Eurasians, an O.R., dark in colour and so featured that I had presumed him to be Javanese. He had a deep bass voice, a friendly grin, and beat up all the best officer players with complete ease and assurance. He also earned extra money by doing very talented pencil portraits of the Chinese in the canteen, and when the Nips saw these drawings, he found himself sketching all the Nip officers and N.C.O.s as well. Lastly, he was a violinist and a first-rate cook. It was a pity that he spoke as little English as we did Dutch, and at the time, with unthinking arrogance, I found it amazing what the addition of a little European blood could do.