One person who appreciated this approach was Donald Michie, to whom as a classicist it all came as fresh and new.
He became very friendly with Alan, and in 1943 they began to meet every Friday evening in a pub at Stony Stratford, just north of Bletchley itself, to play chess and talk—or more often, for Donald to listen.
The Prof's chess had always been something of a joke at Bletchley, being all the more exposed to invidious comparison when the chess masters arrived.
Harry Golombek had been able to give him queen odds, and still win; or when Alan resigned he was able to turn the board round and win from the position given up as hopeless.
He complained that Alan had no idea how to make the pieces work together, and it might well be that as in his social behaviour, he was too conscious of what he was trying to do, to play with fluency.
As Jack Good saw it, he was too intelligent to accept as obvious the moves that others might make without thinking.
He always had to work it out from the beginning.
There had been an amusing moment when Alan had come off a night shift (this would have been in late 1941) and then played a game with Harry Golombek in the early morning.
Travis had looked in and was embarrassed to find, as he thought, his senior cryptanalyst playing while on duty.
'Er ... er ... want to see you about something, Turing,' he said awkwardly, like the housemaster catching a sixth-former with a cigarette in the toilet.
'Hope you can beat him,' he added to Golombek as they left the room, assuming quite wrongly that the master cryptanalyst was the champion player.
But young Donald Michie was a player of Alan's standard.