3rd & 4th January, 1948 - Cold winds, a bit of teasing and a haircut..

Saturday, 3^rd January, 1948

The days are becoming colder now with gale force winds blowing through the valley in which Nablus lies.  As yet there is no form of heating in our offices but we hope shortly to get a stove of some description.  The barrack rooms are not heated in any way so in the evenings evidence of their desertion can be seen around the crowded fireplaces in the canteen and Club.  I am very glad I am off the normal foot duties which mean, in this station, an endless series of night and day static guards with a few escort duties as a variant.  I notice the sangers as used by the guards have been amended in construction so that they would now be of little use in case of attack as the loop holes, so appealing to draughts, have been blocked up.  All this goes to make the sanger a cosier place in which to spend a night.

When our particular friend is on guard we take a sadistical pleasure in educating him as to the number of seconds in a minute and minutes in an hour.  When he makes as if to cock his rifle we bid hurried farewells and return to the warmth of our beds.

Sunday, 4^th January, 1948

We always have made a habit of rising late on Sunday mornings but since the cold weather has set in the day is becoming even brighter when we brave the keen air.

This morning I rose just in time to dash down to the mess before breakfast finished.  After breakfast I had my fortnightly haircut administered by a short tubby Arab who always wears a “Fez” as if he were selling a hair restorer of which his hair was no capable advertiser.  This barber comes from the town every second Sunday morning with his portable shop.  The portable is a marvellous combination of drawers, shelves, mirrors etc. and has so many compartments I often wonder how he knows which drawer contains which.  As all barbers out here he does not consider that his customer will be pleased unless he finishes by half drowning the poor unfortunate in about six varieties of hair oil.  His face can be seen to drop quite plainly when I refuse to have more than a small quantity of type 1.  The tip usually restores his confidence in himself.