Sunday, 27th (January 1918)

At exercise this morning things were better than a circus.  We were moving round in a wide ring when two or three very fresh mules broke away from their owner and galloped about, doing excellent work in the way of buckjumping, kicking up their heels, shying at their bridle-reins.  Every now and then one of them, thinking he would find better scope for gymnastics outside, or (as the case might be) inside, the ring, would dash through our cavalcade, letting out with both hind feet as he did so.  We then did a bit of hurdling over a fence or sand-bags.  The cream of the entertainment, wisely reserved for the end, was provided by the civil servant.  Thinking to emulate the spirit shown by some gallants in riding belly-deep through a deep pond, he followed in their rash wake.  The beast he was riding got into a hole, the one he was leading refused to proceed and between the two he fell and was submerged in the freezing, muddy, manury mixture.

Life’s little worries!  Was, as I thought, oiling the steel of my harnesses, when nearly finished I grew suspicious at the unusual liquidity – looked closer and lo!  I had been using water.

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