Sunday 26th September 1954
Dragged myself up on deck feeling like death, and couldn't manage any breakfast. Spent the morning roaming about seeking rest and finding none, and eventually joined the army of miserables who were laid out on pontoons in long chairs on the after deck, wrapped in brown rugs, looking for all the world like rows of doleful caterpillars. Eventually the nice Norwegian doctor roused me from coma and administered sympathy and dope. The weather all day was frightful, raining and blowing hard, and during the afternoon our siren was going as it got really thick.
The dope took effect and by 16:30 I was able to swallow a cup of tea, and by dinnertime, 19:30, I was able to go in to dinner and toy with some soup and a bit of fish. By the evening I was right on top of the world again.
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