The Enemy Within moves closer to home

So this week ladies and gents I have extremely serious news to report: I fear the enemy has infiltrated my own home. My evidence for this is having caught my good husband sneaking off late at night wearing two-tone brogues and a bowler hat, and carrying a cane. when questioned as to his destination, he muttered something about a photo-shoot, but I postulate that he was off for a secret rendez-vous with Count Friederich Wilhelm Von Bog-Brush (the suspected double-agent on my Library Committee). Said Count appeared in my luxury office suite (AKA the Broom Cupboard) the next day carrying a file marked 'Top Secret' which included such dubious items as a paper on how to digitize your archives with the use of a contingent NADFAS Volunteers. Later that day, I caught my husband watching a programme on Moon landings and NASA conspiracies, so I have - sadly - concluded that I will now start looking closer to home for traces of enemy activity.

This rather took the shine off my latest victory which involved a tame monkey who managed to interview nearly 300 businessmen and women as well as a handful of veterans for me, as part of my plans for Market Research into a new diversionary tactic (known as a History Book) which the chaps here are determined to trial before the end of the next Tour of Duty. Said Monkey even managed to turn up some potential financial backers - a matter which caused much excitement in the ranks, let me tell you. It also broke up the rather more gloomy task of searching the Commonwealth War Graves Commission website for evidence of any of our boys Killed in Action.


The other piece of good news this week involved a book-signing featuring a little-known author I had encountered while doing research into a former member of the SOE who left a legacy of rather exciting (but naturally secret) items in a file marked 'to be opened in the event of my death'. Obviously I have to keep schtum about much of this, but let's just say that  he 

 

  and that - my friends is how we won the war. Toodle-pip.