with their high heads rocking and the swell of the ship those Officers uniforms
on shore leave made me seasick he didnt say anything he was very serious
I had the high buttoned boots on and my skirt was blowing she kissed me
six or seven times didnt I cry yes I believe I did or near it my lips were
taittering when I said goodbye she had a Gorgeous wrap of some special
kind of blue colour on her for the voyage made very peculiarly to one side
like and it was extremely pretty it got as dull as the devil after they went I
was almost planning to run away mad out of it somewhere were never easy
where we are father or aunt or marriage waiting always waiting to guiiiide him
toooo me waiting nor speeeed his flying feet their damn guns bursting and
booming all over the shop especially the Queens birthday and throwing
everything down in all directions of you didnt open the windows when
general Ulysses Grant whoever he was or did supposed to be some great
fellow landed off the ship and old Sprague the codsul that was there from
before the flood dressed up poor man and he in mourning for the son then the
same old reveille in the morning and drums rolling and the unfortunate
poor devils of soldiers walking about with messtins smelling the place more than
the old longbearded jews in their jellibees and levites assembly and sound
clear and gunfire for the men to cross the lines and the warden marching with
his keys to lock the gates and the bagpipes and only Captain Groves and father
talking about Rorkes drift and Plevna and sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at
Khartoum lighting their pipes for them everytime they went out drunken old
devil with his grog on the windowsill catch him leaving any of it picking his
nose trying to think of some other dirty story to tell up in a corner but he
never forgot himself when I was there sending me out of the room on some
blind excuse paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky talking of course
but hed do the same to the next woman that came along I supposed he died
of galloping drink ages ago the days like years not a letter from a living
soul except the odd few I posted to myself with bits of paper in them so
bored sometimes I could fight with my nails listening to that old Arab with
the one eye and his heass of an instrument singing his heah heah aheah
all my compriments on your hotchapotch of your heass as bad as now with the
hands hanging off me looking out of the window if there was a nice fellow
even in the opposite house that medical in Holles street the nurse was after
when I put on my gloves and hat at the window to show I was going out not
a notion what I meant arent they thick never understand what you say even
youd want to print it up on a big poster for them not even if you shake
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