Wednesday 23rd (October 1918)

Slept in the “Sparrows” boarding establishment.  We call them “sparrows” because they are like two little spinster bodies who twitter.

My bedroom was a pious affair, the walls being copiously hung with pictures either of actual angels or innocent-eyed human imitations.  After breakfast we went for a fine ramble along the cliffs, the scenery being most picturesque and the views of the Channel and coast extensive.

One of the old ladies has christened me “the Lum” – an old word for chimney (a thing that smokes a great deal.) and it is now my accepted soubriquet; if that’s the word, tho’ I’ve an uneasy feeling that it means a fast lady.

The air has been full of rumours of peace.  She is an elusive jade, this same Peace.  No, my boy, it’s another winter in the mud I very much imagine.

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