Saturday night (25 August 1917)

With Warwick and a “returned” Corporal to Crondall – joined by R. and a friend of his.  They purchased 2 lb. of bacon and a lot of eggs; these we bore off to our one – (here the electric light went out and I came to a sudden stop – Sunday morning) – legged tea-man whose missus cooked it for us.  We made back to camp through lanes and avenues, fortified by various drinks.  The Corporal told me he was with an artist in Cornwell who got so wild because the Corporal looked at his painting before it was finished that he tore it up and went off in a huff, whereat the Corporal retaliated by remarking that it was silly to make such a fuss over such a rotten picture.  Have just been to Church Parade where Padre gave a sensible but of course totally useless sermon on swearing.  He said that however meaningless and lightly used the words are they must in time filter through and poison the mind.  He didn’t go into side-issue that occurs to me, i.e. will having to listen to it, for perhaps years, have a like effect?

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