There is not a great deal to say and my thoughts are somewhat disturbed by the noises in my boudoir-orderly-room. There are workmen in the house! To be absolutely truthful the frightful enemy put a shell this morning on the roof. I am so far down that of course it could not come through, but some of the timbers in the hall ceiling gave way, and a certain quantity of loamy soil was admitted to the foot of the stairs. I was out at the time; if I had been here I feel sure I should have had palpitations. In any case I have got two entrances, so, even if the one had been knocked in, I could always escape by the other. Although it was of course most extraordinarily ill mannered behaviour on the part of Old Ludwig and his friends. We were at breakfast at the time and some of us who had finished thought it wise to beat a dignified retreat down our new funk-hole – a tremendous mansion half way or more to Australia. No shell every made could possibly penetrate its dark and damp recesses. I can’t say that I personally like the place – it’s bad for rheumatism. Col. Currin has come back from his leave and goodness only knows what they will do with him now. He has no job and cannot very well stay with us in a subordinate position. There is I am afraid no doubt about which of the two men of the Battalion would rather have as commanding officer. However it is not good grousing. Weather still holds good and in spite of a red sky this morning, there is no real sign of rain coming.