I was to have gone back to work on the Thursday week after I arrived home, but I got a telegram from Madame Sindici saying Furnes was being shelled, and the hospital, etc., was to be evacuated.  Dr. Perrin, who was to have taken me back, had to start immediately without me.  It was difficult to get news, and hearing nothing I went over on Saturday, January 23rd, as I had left Mrs. Clitheroe in charge of my soup-kitchen, and thought I had better do the burning deck act and get back to it.

Mr. Bevan and Mr. Morgan met me at Calais, and told me to wait at Dunkirk, as everyone was quitting Furnes.  One of our poor nurses was killed, and the Joos’ little house was much damaged.  I stopped at Mrs. Clitheroe’s flat, very glad to be ill in peace after my seedy condition in London and a bad crossing.  Rested quietly all Sunday in the flat by myself.  It is an empty, bare little place, with neither carpets nor curtains, but there is something home-like about it, the result, I think, of having an open fire in one room.

On Monday, the 25th, I went back to work at Adinkerke station, to which place our soup-kitchen has been moved.  I got a warm welcome from the Belgian Sisters.  It is very difficult doing the station work from Dunkirk, as it is 16 kilometres from Adinkerke; but the place itself is nice, and I just have to trust to lifts.  I fill my pockets with cigarettes and go to the “sortie de la ville,” and just wait for something to pass—­and some queer, bumpy rides I get.  Still, the soldiers who drive me are delightful, and the cigarettes are always taken as good pay.

One day I went and spent the night at Hoogstadt, where the hospital now is, and that I much enjoyed.  Dr. Perrin gave up his little room to me, and the nurses and staff were all so full of welcome and pleasant speeches.

On Monday, February 8th, I went out to La Panne to start living in the hotel there; but I was really dreadfully seedy, and suffered so much that I had to return to the flat at Dunkirk again to be nursed.  My day at La Panne was therefore very sad, as I nearly perished with cold, and felt so ill.  Not a soul came near me, and I wished I could be a Belgian refugee, when I might have had a little attention from somebody.

On Tuesday, February 9th, a Belgian officer came into Adinkerke station, claimed our kitchen as a bureau, and turned us out on to the platform.  I am trying to get General Millis to interfere; but, indeed, the rudeness of this man’s act makes one furious.

[Page Heading:  ILLNESS AT DUNKIRK]

14 February.—­I have been laid up for some days at the flat at Dunkirk.  It is amazing to realise that this place should be one’s present idea of comfort.  It has no carpets, no curtains, not a blind that will pull up or down, and rather dirty floors, yet it is so much more comfortable than anything I have had yet that I am too thankful to be here.  There is a gas-ring in the kitchen, on which it is possible to cook our food, and there are shops where things can be got.