Many thanks for another letter & all the news that it contains, I only wish I could watch you a tricyclette, doubtless it is a truly dignified spectacle compared with the vacillatory progress of Miss Latter. I wrote to Dad yesterday & gave him a lengthy account of all that we are doing & have done lately, mostly I think a repetition of what I have told you in my last letter or two. We are still in the same place & have not as yet been shelled out, though we should not be a bit surprised if an unexpected visit dropped in one day. The Huns still hammer away for all they are worth at the Cloth Hall, & the Cathedral, it is an awful shame that they cannot leave it alone. Yesterday they put twenty four gigantic shells into it, not to mention several of the smaller variety, & a few shrapnel. The big’uns simply shook everything, houses rocked all through the town, & one could see the ground heaving. They were some new kind of armour-piercing affair & went about ten feet into the ground before bursting – when they did it was of course like a young mine going off, or rather up. We were nearly half a mile away, & had enormous bricks simply hurtling through the air. As far as billets are concerned we are as comfortable here as anywhere we have yet been. A cold tub in the morning, a large dining room, a large bath room with plenty of large wooden tubs – a colonnade when its wet, nice iron bedsteads & in fact, everything the heart of man can desire, even port glasses (loot) & the other evening a bottle of port sent from home. You know I told you one of our men had got the D.C.M. the G.O.C. in C – old Stuart-Wortley turned up to pin the ribbon on his breast – a most impressive ceremony was arranged – all correct until the actual pinning on time came then the G.O.C. discovered that he’d left it behind! Oh dear, Oh dear!