Sunday 12th January 1941

Dull days. We pump over a few shells and Iti shells us back – usually late at night, when we're too sleepy to be interested. We sometimes get bombed around here (these bombings would have merited a page or two in the early desert days, last September, but now they are monotonous) by lone planes at night. Otherwise, very little seems to happen and we are all thoroughly fed-up and dirty.

Wrote a few letters today and yesterday in reply to my mail. Damn it, I can't even put a decent letter together, nowadays. My mind also, seems to be full of desert dust.