No-man's-land - John Buchan - Bog

It was yet early April, and before me lay four weeks of freedom-twenty-eight blessed days in which to take fish and smoke the pipe of idleness. The Lent term had pulled me down, a week of modest enjoyment thereafter in town had finished the work; and I drank in the sharp moorish air like a thirsty man who has been forwandered among deserts. I am a man of varied tastes and a score of interests.