Alexander diary, 1917-1918 / Roy Alexander - Page 226
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[Page 226]
1918
Tue. 8th Oct.
A day of trial and trouble. I cursed and vanquished Limb, the wardrobe master, in the morning. The pig tried to do me out of borrowing the best toilette in the English wardrobe, which I intended using at the Theatre Francais on Saturday. Returning weary from the fray to our Officer's Mess (which is also the Officer's Dormitory, the Officer's Club-room & the Officer's Kitchen all in one) I fought with my adorable Irish mess mate, who is getting more impossible everyday. Then came "dinner" – the best the Captain could give us was a plate of thin soup – our store of food is almost exhausted. I cursed the Kaiser, Lloyd George, the Food Branch of the Red Cross & the world generally and then flopped down on my bed (a thing of unpainted wood which frequently becomes lousy) to mourn in solitude. The bed collapsed beneath me. I rose from the ruins and fled to a rehearsal to try and Forget. (how tragic that looks.) Here I met Nagle the International conductor, an American of sanguinary illegitimate parentage (to paraphrase my opinion of him). To cap all, Directeur Darras twice stopped the performance to correct my French accent! A sad day!