When about seven miles out of camp, and out in the middle of the plains we were caught in a heavy shower of rain and in a few minutes waterproof cape & boots etc. were soaked through. The wind was terrific and seemed to blow the rain right through everything. The picture which we cut, miles from shelter, on the desolate downs, reminded me very much of poor old King Lear in his distress in the midst of the elements when he said that although his enemy's dog had bitten him, he would not put him out in such a night.
However there was a silver lining to the dark cloud & the storm ceased, the sun came out, we sat by the wayside and poured the water out of our boots and wrung our sox & had a smoke and all was serene once more.
Once in Devizes, we were quickly sitting by the fireside in the restaurant and said 'good-bye, for ever' to a square meal.