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Then we were sent into the dining-room, where supper was set out on the deal tables.It was the invariable spike meal, always the same, whether breakfast, dinner or supper–half a pound of bread, a bit of margarine, and a pint of so-called tea.LITERATURE: AN EXAMINATION OF GULLIVER’S TRAVELS (1946) RIDING DOWN FROM BANGOR (1946) SOME THOUGHTS ON THE COMMON TOAD (1946) THE PREVENTION OF LITERATURE (1946) WHY I WRITE (1946) LEAR, TOLSTOY AND THE FOOL (1947) SUCH, SUCH WERE THE JOYS (1947) WRITERS AND LEVIATHAN (1948) REFLECTIONS ON GANDHI (1949) It was late-afternoon.Forty-nine of us, forty-eight men and one woman, lay on the green waiting for the spike to open. We just sprawled about exhaustedly, with home-made cigarettes sticking out of our scrubby faces.
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