A beautiful, bright, and breezy day. After getting acclimatised, one imagines that on a day like this the temperature is as high as it would be at this season in N.Z. The way to disprove this is, as I have just experienced, to eat half a can (or tin) of tinned (or canned) peaches – they freeze your gizzard. Prolonged ululations, intended to represent the air of “Annie Laurie” are emanating from boozed tommies in the adjacent canteen. Big wet clouds which emit an occasional dash of hail or rain. Fritz threw a few shells about last night; they went squealing overhead and landed a mile away. One young fellow got over twenty letters. He read them in less time than I did my half dozen and burnt them forthwith. I was amazed. I value my letters and read them several times as they are a connecting link with that un-warlike world to which I would return.
Congenial job, digging drain through the slush round the cookhouse.
Walk March 