A blessed relief that today is our last day trapped in this luxurious hell-hole together.
Cabin-fever doesn't even go halfway to describing it. More like "Cabinfevercabinfevercabinfever" if I had to be more explicit.
Never has so much been drunken up by so few so quickly with the aim of obliterating any memory of what transpired last night.
Let me just say that it was probably for the best that Mr.T chose to return to Blighty early and that we were able to incinerate his silk dressing-gown in the shed away from the poor horses so that no-one ever need find out the awful truth.
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