A Story of War

A really glorious storm on just now. 2pm, the usual time for rain, but this time it has got a real good wind at its back. This produces pukka driven spray such as I haven’t seen since I left Tiree. You can see it hurtling along in sort of belts and the noise on my tim roof, combined with the wind in the eaves and edges, is reminiscent of Island House. Only the wind doesn’t whine like it used to. A mighty torrent, breast high in places, rushes down the Nullah under Bakhshi picquet and catches the range covering troops just as they are being withdrawn. Of course three fools go and drop their rifles in the waters which whip them away. we all go out in the evening up till 7.30 looking for them, and one is found. Two cows were seen, borne capsized past the picquets. Also huge boulders as as Mitchell said “I never saw anything like it, it would have been called a cloud burst at home!”

Shades of Tiree – try walking round that corner of the Lodge in January!

R.P. yesterday. I walk out to Gaj and back. The sods don’t tell me lunch has arrived, so I would have got none but for Walsh who produced his, and two tins of beer.