Sherriff was clearly busy, perhaps because of the influx of new men and officers, but his letter writing appears to have become less frequent.

In today’s letter he dwelt again on the approach of Christmas – now just ten days away – noting that just a few days later he would have been in France for fully three months, although he suspected he would still have to wait a while to get his leave. The weather seems to have been cold (he told her that he had been for a walk to the local village, ‘more to get warm than anything’), and he asked his mother if she would mind sending him out some more socks, since the ones he had were worn out, and he was wearing two or three pairs at a time to cover the holes: ‘Just two or three pairs from that Scotch wool shop, I believe it is called – do you remember the first day I joined the Artists we went into Kingston and bought some at that shop?’ He also asked if she might send him the little yellow book on Surveying which he had left on his bedroom mantelpiece – so it seems he was still hopeful of the possibility of a transfer to the Engineers.

The letter broke off on 14 December, but was taken up again on 16 December (he had temporarily misplaced it), when he wrote that he was still in his old dugout, and that, if he did not go into the line with his Battalion in two days time he could be fairly confident that he would still be in place at Christmas. He was confident enough that he and the other officers had been making plans for the ‘Christmas delicacies’ that they wanted to buy: ‘We are getting some cherry brandy, port and various stuff like tongue etc.’ If he was unlucky enough to be relieved, he was confident that at least he would get his money back, and could have the satisfaction of knowing the others were enjoying it.

[Next letter: 16 December]