J.L. Bell unearths a British officer's report to the folks back home that mentioned how awful the weather was on Dec. 4, 1775. Only thing is, the weather was actually quite nice that day. What gives?
No matter what, life is crap for them. They hate their job. They hate home life. They blame the President, The State or any other person, group or thing. The problem is never them. It is always somebody else.
This guy just sounds like one of those "friends".
A miserable soul who loves company.
As J.L. himself points out, the weather the previous couple of weeks appears to have been really very nasty. This lobsterback certainly wouldn't have been the first soldier (or the millionth) to start writing a letter home in a few spare moments and not get around to finishing it till quite a bit later.
But sure, y'all can assume the worst about some poor shlub two and half centuries dead now, fighting people who looked and sounded just like the loved ones he'd left back home half a world away...
Your table at Tres Gatos is ready.
Pretty clear that you're the bitter one here, Jim. Thinking the worst of everyone, throwing shade - don't you see the irony of your recent posts? You've been describing yourself.
It's the publication. See what the Derby Mercury thought of the war, and you'll almost certainly have your answer.
Complaining about the weather is a time honoured British pastime.
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