It couldn't have come at a worse time, and Grace ignored it.

Not only was she too busy to really give the challenge her full attention, but she was suffering from a 'throat too sore to swallow, discharging from the eyes, feeling sick and giddy, with fearful headaches" she writes in her diary. On top of that they were enduring the worst winter since 1870! Towards the end of January she records: "It is intensely cold – the water freezes on one's fingers as we wash in the mornings."

It was a time of change, comings and goings, and a lot of worry for Grace. Staff were going on leave of one sort or another; she had to visit outposts like Brouck and Hoogstadt which had recently been handed back or closed, tie up loose ends, organize the packing and despatch of some staff's personal belongings and equipment.

By the middle of the month she was feeling much better, and at Binson, preparing it as best she could for opening. The place had been cleared of patients and equipment by the French.

Belgian General Thooft came to congratulate her on her Leopold II decoration. Around this time she was having her portrait prepared for an exhibition by "Artists on Active Service", by someone she refers to only as 'Mr George.' What became of it was never revealed.

It was a hectic time, a lot of travelling involved in setting up the transport facilities for Binson. On one occasion she and Anderson drove through the night to collect a vehicle, but theirs broke down in a place called Chamblis at 4 o'clock in the morning. Grace's brief and succinct account states: "Clutch gave – stayed there till daylight." This sort of thing was commonplace, but induced constant worry and weariness over time.

On another occasion, broken down far from a town, she was given a lift by a French Colonel, 8 miles to the nearest place with a garage. It was of no use, and she had to walk the eight miles back to the car.

Towards the end of the month three truckloads of stores and equipment arrived from the now closed Lamarck, and the unloading began, - Coley, Lewis, two others and Grace. Heavy, tiring work. They managed to clear one and a half trucks, she records, the remainder the next day.

There was so much to do. She spent a lot of the time writing letters to HQ, the French Red Cross in Paris, French Army Medical people. So many loose ends to tie up. The place was absolutely filthy, floors thick with ingrained dirt. Used and festering bandages and dressings were tucked under grimy mattresses. Some were actually wrapped in old newspaper dated as far back as 1914! A major clean-up operation was needed, and the small advance party got down to it in true FANY fashion. Once Lamarck finally closed, the staff were transferred to Binson. The expected French casualties had not yet arrived, a blessing in disguise, considering the appalling state the place was in.

On one occasion, while she and the FANYs were having tea, the head of the Priory , Rev. Pere Econique and some of his Peres Blancs unexpectedly called on them. Grace immediately welcomed them and offered them tea. She writes' "They ran away horrified. Their rules do not allow them to eat in the presence of a woman."

The cold, the worries about Binson, the letters which kept arriving from Lean or Cluff, all these were getting her down. As the month drew to an end, she wrote, almost despairingly "so many things to worry about", and again a few days later, "Still arranging and worrying! If only people at home would help instead of hinder."

One of her worries was the sorting out of the rooms available to them in the Priory, where everything should be put, the allocation of areas for wards, offices, mess rooms etc.

Grace arranged a meeting with the Peres Blancs, carefully avoinding any mention of tea or coffee. On this occasion it was she who was shocked. She notes in her diary, "The Peres Blancs explained politely but firmly, 'no agreement is signed for the building, and you have no right to be here at all!" She adds wryly, "Nice, eh?"

This extra and very serious worry sent her off as quickly as possible to see the local Medecin Chef to tell him about it, and see what he could do; why had nothing been signed between the French Authorities and the Priory?

Finally, perhaps as an afterthought in a moment of acute frustration, she scribbled underneath it all "Still no staff from England. D---n Lean."

Next day, she, Coley and the others set off for Paris, knowing nothing would be dealt with over the weekend. They were worn out mentally and physically, and needed a break. They began to unwind immediately, meeting up with a "little French airman" on the train. How relaxed Grace was able to become shows in her diary entry. No doubt it did her the world of good. One can imagine her having a quiet chuckle to herself. She wrote "It is amusing for me to be a chaperone – I know exactly when they are playing footie (sic) under the table and looking innocent above it. What a chaperone I make - and they think I don't see!! Tiens! Tiens!"

The brief time away did them all good, recharged flagging batteries, and set Grace up for the tussles ahead. It would be needed.

On the Monday a letter arrived, and her short interlude of peace and pleasure came to an end. The letter gave notice that a Board of Officers' Meeting was called for January 31 – only two days ahead – "To Consider Mrs McDougall's Position."

This she could no longer ignore.

Handing over to Coley, she headed for Calais. There she had a hectic round of visits to transport depots, organizing car replacements involving lengthy discussions. There is a cryptic and intriguing entry for February 2^nd "Vice Consul came to tea and brought my new Passport – my third since the war. He had changed my description as he said I had libelled myself!"

On the 4^th February she crossed the Channel, a Capt Synge attached to Army HQ had got her a cabin to herself where she "lay and read and ate chocolate, cold even in cabin with heater thing on." Arriving at Victoria she was not in a good mood, and recorded "no porters, had to trail my bag along. No taxis."

But the real measure of her mood, stepping onto English soil again, was what she wrote furiously in her diary the Monday the notification arrived about the Board Meeting to ' consider her position'!

Her comments were typical of Grace. Her Highland blood was on the boil. Accept this? Nae chance!

She wrote: "D___d cheek. - however I'll fight them - but I wish I could get the staff out. God knows, we want help for the wounded, not kudos for ourselves."