Sunday, 6 p.m. Tandle Hill Tavern (5 August 1917)

There is a restriction on the hours of drinking, but when she opens at 6.30 we are just the boys for a pint and a snack of anything that’s going.  R’s appetite is almost as large as his feet, which are elevens.  A girl in the Parlour is strumming familiar old airs – little boy is talking to R. in broad Lancashire, calling him thee.  We had a blow out of bread and jam and finished up with, what do you think?  Pickled beetroot and carrot.

In a short lecture by a returned officer, he thought that in some sectors the Hun artillery was quite as effective as ours, but not on the average of the whole front.

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