'I ordered a Russian grammar from home. For some reason nearly all the translations of Russian writers in those days, at least in the Windlestone library [at Windlestone Hall, Durham, the Eden family's country seat], were into French. The single exception was Constance Garnett's brilliant translations of Turgenev. In my last visits to Windlestone and encouraged by my father, I had broken into the Russian novelists who soon proved a joyous revelation to me. It was then that I made up my mind to read them in their own language. Even an adjutant could find time heavy on his hands in winter in Flanders. My plan was to snatch at least an hour's study every day and in addition to learn by heart some grammar exercise every morning while shaving. I persevered for many weeks but then had to accept disappointment at my slow rate of progress.'