Saturday, November 08, 2008

Wednesday 4th March 1942

We look like staying here for a bit. Well, it is not too bad; there are plenty of cigarettes still, lots of brews of tea, long discussions in the exchange dug out at night and - as yet – no flies or heat. The 6a.m. stand to is rather a sod but we start making a brew at about 6:20a.m., which keeps us happy until breakfast, at 7:30a.m.

Today it has rained heavily and I dug a canal and sump all around the exchange dug out, as a precaution. The miredam is wet and fresh looking; with it's pools of water it seems almost like English ploughed land.

The desert inertia has nor seized my mind yet. Indeed during yesterday and the forenoon I thought of an idea for a poem and strung it together , eventually. “The Land of Lost Dreams” - really more like a poem than any previous effort of mine! It has an introductory verse of four lines, then the main body (a sort of 14 line sonnet) and lastly the concluding verse of four lines. Each line has 11 syllables except the last two which have 12. Sweet child of my brain! Anyhow it's better than my first poetical endeavour at the age of 10:-

“There was once a jockey
Who liked playing hockey.”


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