Sunday, 13th day (15 April 1917)

Church parade, before which a short sprinkling first with hail then snow – Fine big rain clouds sailing about a bright blue sky.  Some new birds are in the wake, very pretty with checkered black-and-white wings, black heads and white bodies.  Had a yarn with a stuttering Scot, who has been fearfully sea-sick.  The sea is a fine sight, deep green-blue broken by the white breakers.  The cold makes us eat prodigiously.  The meat is as a rule rather unattractive, but the other viands good.  I am writing in the dining hall, after tea.  A Church service is going on at one end through a haze of smoke, whilst at the other men are playing cards, writing etc., and fitfully joining in the hymns.  A curious jumble!  I envy some of the men their hardihood, old sailors probably and such like, who go about with perhaps only a shirt and tunic, open at the throat.  Just heard a fine little sermon, passionate and personal by a man who has himself served as a private and as an N.C.O.

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