Thursday (30 August 1917)

Fleet – a long straggling row of shops in which there appears to be nothing of interest and soldiers everywhere.  Spent afternoon pretending to lift logs into waggon and push waggon up a hill.  R. and I did our caterpillar act under the rainproof cape for a few hundred yards up to the Queen’s Arms.  The small plumes are sloes from which Sloe Gin is made – they taste very bitter.

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