2nd December (1918)

Have started reading Emily Bronte’s “Wuthering Heights”.  Too many Parades and distractions in this life for regular reading.

Leave here at 7am. tomorrow, which means that reveille will be about 4.30. and everything will be one infernal floundering about in the dark: unwashed, wrathful beings clambering up and falling down rungless, swallowing scalding half-cooked stew, washing up with our fingers, dropping harnesses in the mud, booting ill-tempered and unwilling animals and then “stopping an awful blast” for being behind time.  By the way, the animals have been “brain-illy” resorted according to colour (not worth).  I am now blessed with one vile kicking nipping and scratching old mare, “Chum”, and as strangely contrasted, docile, but brainless gelding, “Dick”, in place of Tom and Toby.

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