Work must again be my excuse for a lapse in letter writing – or rather energy, not exactly work. We have slightly altered our abode and I have consequently spent about 18 out of every 24 hours wandering all over the place, learning my way about. This is a good spot, albeit not quite so dry as out last health-resort and I think we shall manage to enjoy ourselves as usual. We have got a most magnificent headquarters several yards below the surface of the earth. The C.O. has a room to himself – there is an enormous mess – the Major and I have a very excellent bedroom and the rest of the officers are in another compartment. Down a passage are orderly room and signal office. It is eminently safe and very comfortable but to my mind there is one great objection to all deep dug-outs – and that is the air – or rather lack of it. I always wake up with most horribly funny lungs, and it takes about 15 minutes open air walking to restore me to a decent state. I am ever so much happier if I can live and sleep above ground. After all one can always slip down the bunk-hole if the old Ludwig gentleman proves in any way obstreperous. We are all making most terrible pigs of ourselves with chestnuts. I had never before realized what exceeding delicacies they are, but now that I have been converted, I do my best to make up for my former omissions. We have a large plateful everyday after lunch and dinner. The Regimental Christmas Card has appeared and is a great success. I will send you or two to the family when we get a little nearer to the festival. I have already got rid of one or two to the more distant fronts such as Mesopotamy.