There is only time for a very hurried letter for the light is already far gone. There is as usual absolutely no news whether important or otherwise. They smashed all our windows with a couple of shells yesterday which did absolutely no damage except to the glass. They even drove me once in the direction of the cellar. But they were using silly little shells that go off almost on touching a blade of grass, and one is quite safe indoors. The weather has broken and there has been a considerable amount of rain the last day or two – more in fact than I like. I expect it has produced a certain amount of mud of the pea-soup variety in the trenches. We will hope it will have dried up by the time we get there. The G.O.C. is very kindly going to inspect us they day after tomorrow. I hope it rains hard all day, and that the parade ground gets heavily shelled – then perhaps they will put it off. I personally would rather be shelled seven times than go through one inspection by the G.O.C. It is a most formidable affair and as a rule everybody gets “strafed” particularly the luckless Adjutant. He always expects him to gallop about the place; if I ask Lady Mary to gallop she’ll probably have me off – however we’ll hope for the best. This village possesses a pub with a piano – in a room for officers – a tremendous asset – we all gather for ½ an hour or so before dinner and make a noise.