This is what I wrote home a day or two after Christmas:  From six on Christmas Eve to six in the evening on Christmas Day there was a truce between two regiments of our Division and the Germans opposite them.  Heads popped up and were not sniped.  Greetings were called across.  One venturesome, enthusiastic German got out of his trench and stood waving a branch of Christmas Tree.  Soon there was a fine pow-wow going on.  Cigars were exchanged for tobacco.  Friendship was pledged in socks.  The Germans brought out some beer and the English some rum.  Finally, on Christmas Day, there was a great concert and dance.  The Germans were spruce, elderly men, keen and well fed, with buttons cleaned for the occasion.  They appeared to have plenty of supplies, and were fully equipped with everything necessary for a winter campaign.  A third battalion, wisely but churlishly, refused these seasonable advances, and shot four men who appeared with a large cask of what was later discovered to be beer....

“The Div.” were billeted in a chateau on the slope of a hill three-quarters of a mile above St Jans Cappel.  This desirable residence stands in two acres of garden, just off the road.  At the gate was a lodge.  Throughout the winter we despatch riders lived in two small rooms of this lodge.  We averaged fourteen in number.  Two were out with the brigades, leaving twelve to live, eat, and sleep in two rooms, each about 15 ft. by 8 ft.  We were distinctly cramped, and cursed the day that had brought us to St Jans.  It was a cruel stroke that gave us for our winter quarters the worst billets we had ever suffered.

As we became inclined to breakfast late, nine o’clock parade was instituted.  Breakfast took place before or after, as the spirit listed.  Bacon, tea, and bread came from the cook.  We added porridge and occasionally eggs.  The porridge we half-cooked the night before.

After breakfast we began to clean our bicycles, no light task, and the artificers started on repairs.  The cleaning process was usually broken into by the arrival of the post and the papers of the day before.  Cleaning the bicycles, sweeping out the rooms, reading and writing letters, brought us to dinner at 1.

This consisted of bully or fresh meat stew with vegetables (or occasionally roast or fried meat), bread and jam.  As we became more luxurious we would provide for ourselves Yorkshire pudding, which we discovered trying to make pancakes, and pancakes, which we discovered trying to make Yorkshire pudding.  Worcester Sauce and the invaluable curry powder were never wanting.  After dinner we smoked a lethargic pipe.

In the afternoon it was customary to take some exercise.  To reduce the strain on our back tyres we used to trudge manfully down into the village, or, if we were feeling energetic, to the ammunition column a couple of miles away.  Any distance over two miles we covered on motor-cycles.  Their use demoralised us.  Our legs shrunk away.