3 July, 1917

Posted: December 14, 2017 by saraherhodes in 1917

Letters from home of 6th, 7th May. Considering circumstances, the letters are arriving very well. They nearly all get here, but are often very delayed. My arm is quite alright now. Just a trifle stiff in one or two movements- otherwise, very good.

We have been invaded by Generals today. Dozens of them. General McLogan is one of them.

The parcel of tobacco and cigarettes arrived yesterday. The coconut ice doesn’t carry as well as toffee. It was all melted and soft. The parcel of photos arrived yesterday too. They are all very good and most interesting. I met a Padre Murphy the other day. He is a very Irish RC, a fine fellow who used to be on the Peninsula and knows all the Kellys there. A very interesting man and a fine character.

I had a very nice walk Sunday afternoon with the Colonel, we went through Codford to Stockton, and back across the meadows. The country is very pretty, especially the lanes with hedges and trees on either side. Stockton village is very pretty too. There is one funny little place. The church stands in a big garden and on the edge of the garden are houses, apparently the quarters of the priests in earlier days. The church is very old with its square Norman tower. The houses are now used as a school.

Another pretty walk I had some weeks ago was to follow the River Avon out from Salisbury for a couple of miles. The country is very flat, cut into sections by rivers and covered with trees and hedges. At one place there is a large manor house standing on an island. There are no fences – lawns and trees to the waters edge. The river is packed with big gold fish, trout, carp etc. In the distance was a quaint old church almost hidden by trees. England takes a power of beating in the right season – but in the Winter –!

I started off for Salisbury last night but only got about four miles when my engine seized. It stopped dead. Had to walk home and push the grid. I didn’t know there was so much uphill work in the world. Arrived home soaked to the skin with perspiration. I was thinking of running to London on it, but that is finished now.

Mayman is still away. He has been very ill lately. I am enclosing a few lines written by the Doc. It appeared in nearly all the various papers and all of them try to guess who wrote it. So far, none have succeeded.

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