Tim of the Regiment First January Tim wakes up very peevish after last night’s celebrations in Mess (how strange the after effects of enjoyment on the human frame!). He reminds me that his Aunt Ethel is coming to dinner and to spend the night on her way to Dover and the Riviera. Reminder quite unnecessary, as Aunt Ethel’s visit has been a cloud on my horizon ever since it was arranged in November. Tim enjoins me to ‘give the old girl a decent dinner’, but is not helpful as regards details. When pressed he suggests lamb, which, I point out, is unprocurable at present, except in frozen form. Tim replies that ‘all that’ is my job, and that he can’t think of food in any form this morning, as his head is like a boiler-room, and what on earth are the children doing – there might be half a dozen of them from the noise. Rush downstairs and try to keep the children quiet at breakfast, which is difficult owing to a fall of snow, and the thrilling prospect of a snowman in the Square Gardens.
