We were warm as pies, but we filled hot-water bottles, for the night would certainly get colder, and wriggled into our sleeping-bags with them. We were desperately tired and sleepy, but a sleeping-bag on a pile of coir, in a hut with about a dozen other people, who were all breathing and snorting and - in one case at least - snoring, isn't very conducive to sound slumber.
From NOTHING HAPPENED AFTER ALL, Chapter 10, Don't Get Mixed up in Politics.
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