1942 November
From LJT to Annette No 42
16 Alipore Rd. Calcutta.
Nov 1st 1942
My darling Annette,
We have two letters to thank you for this week. One was written at the end of July, and told of the arrangements being made for the operation on your eye. It was No 17. The next was written exactly a month later, and numbered 22, but I think when you said that you could not remember the last number clearly, you were right , for I suspect there was no letter in between this and No 18 written on August 8th, which we received just over a week ago.
I’m terribly sorry to hear that the news about Richard just reached you at the worst possible moment, when you had so many hours of enforced idleness and so much time in which you could do nothing but think. I am so glad that you wrote something of what you felt. I too, have not cried very much, but now and again something just seems to catch one at the back of the throat, and the tears begin to flow into the eyes, and are difficult to control. Last week I told you that I am a little more optimistic than I was, but, like you, I have no strong conviction.
Its hard to express how keenly, I think I might say how emotionally, interested I am in the operation on your eye. I am longing to hear more of the results when you are back in normal life. You have always been so good and so patient over everything connected with this grievous trouble.
Inclination makes me want to sit down and write a long letter, but I have still a lot of things to do, and though I might have made more time by not lying down to rest yesterday afternoon and again to-day, I was so tired that I felt it would be stupid not to take the rest.
Maybe there wont be much time for writing next week either, but I should have some leisure while we are waiting for the boat in Bombay.
The train journey will be a good opportunity for going over again the big budget of letters we have had recently.
For the moment then, farewell, and as always, my love and thoughts are with you
Mother
Family letter from HPV
Calcutta
November 1st 1942.
My dear Annette (name handwritten)
The last stage of my service in India has been reached with our leaving Theatre Road and moving to Alipur where brother Hal is putting us up until we leave for Bombay. How comfortable their house! how admirable their arrangements! Winsome is a clever housekeeper. We are lucky to have such a refuge for it would have been very awkward to be staying on while the sale arrangements were in progress; not that we should have been able to stay very long anyhow.
During this week I have done very little work. Luckily there was not very much to be done, owing to my having cleared off a deal of stuff during the Pujahs; but it has been a matter of tiring in a couple of hours and being on edge for the rest of the day. It is clear however that I shall not be able to do the long and unpleasant case bearing on the dishonesty of a manager in an estate under the Court of Wards; I feel that by leaving it I shall be letting Martin down but there is no help for it.
All is ready for the sale of the furniture. The tiger-skins are decorated with numbers attached to their nose-tips and look absurd. Joan was persuaded to put into the sale the old sewing machine which she had thought of just leaving as too disreputable to be exposed to the public view; and I was amused to see it starred along with the frigidaire and the tiger skins as the chief attractions of the sale. In the advertisement in today’s Statesman.
We have left the cats. The idea of having them disposed of by the S.C.P.A. was shelved when it was found that Mogul felt such grief. His view was that any Sahib who came would be delighted to give food to so beautiful a quartet: and that might be good enough if only there was not the ever present fear that the quartet would be quadrupled every few months.
H.D. has the trick of saying “How come?” when he means “What about it?” or the like. He was delighted the other day when he rang up a man after the cyclone to ask if there was any object in going out as arranged to play golf and said to him “How come?” to receive the reply “No go!”
Last night he discoursed about the art of typing and I astonished him by proving that I was in the right when I said that to get an ! one should hold down the space bar with the left thumb and hit first the full-stop and then the apostrophe. Which is so. And then I again demonstrated how the equals sign can be made by holding down the space-bar and hitting the hyphen twice once just so and once with the finger pressing very lightly on the shift key -- a discovery of my own. Not too easy a stunt but much better than the standard method of fiddling round with the roller. = Even thus.
Joan has presented Winsome with a bottle of what she calls “tears”, to wit, saline solution for bathing the eyes; Winsome not understanding asked “What are tears?” and I propounded the view that they were collections of the tears of the beggars of Calcutta. This has been adjudged so grisly a thought that Winsome now looks with disfavour on the bottle.
All this I have written without looking at my results except twice when knowing that I had made mistakes I had to look whether the backspace had moved one space or two; for since the overhaul it moves two unless the key is hit very gently. I shall leave the mistakes uncorrected, being very lazy. I forgot to take my acid with meals after coming here, and my insides have gone back on me.
(handwritten at end of letter to Annette)
There has been a disaster with the carbons! See the back of this.
My child, renounce all ideas that there will be a better world after the war: or at least immediately after the war. Such vain hopes let to this war. There are no short cuts to any brave new world.
Much love
Dad
(written to Romey) My carbons have disappeared in the move; this one was borrowed -- not too good.
Rosemary, with what pleasure we received your missing letters! But still I have no idea who is who among the many youths and maidens whom you mention. You are lucky to have been taken in by Susie. I am amazed by her kindness, though I do not mention it often enough. Much love,
Your Dad
Family letter from HPV
16 Alipur Roa
Calcutta.
Sunday, November 8th 1942.
My dear Annette (name handwritten)
This is our last day in Calcutta. We went out to Tollygunge this morning to breakfast as H.D.’s guests, since I resigned all my clubs at the end of October. It was the first time that I had been there for ages and maybe this is why there was no feeling of regret at seeing it for the last time. It is a token of my feebleness these days that I was quite done up by the time we returned to the house.
It has been a busy week. The sale of our things went off successfully beyond any expectation. They fetched nearly Rs 6000 and after deduction of the brokerage and expenses we shall get well over 5000. Most things sold well. Many for more than we had given for them and many for nearly as much. The secret of this was that our stuff was ordinary plain stuff such as people want who are furnishing for a temporary stay, as so many Army people are just now in Calcutta. Also there is a shortage of things like crockery and table things, and even pictures.
The sewing machine so old and battered that Joan had felt shame to include it fetched Rs. 61, --- magnificent. We noticed with remorse that the auctioneer described two Underground advertisements, framed as “Old Indian Prints”: and thus they fetched more than they had cost. The tiger-skins brought in nearly what they had cost to set up;and as we have had them to grace our walls for 12 or 13 years we have no ground for complaint.
I handed over to Martin on Tuesday, after having it firmly in my mind that the 3rd was Wednesday and thus being rushed at the end. He was left, as I feared he would be, with that beastly case which should have been cleared up by me during the holidays. However he is full of energy and determined to spend as little time on files as can be, touring vigorously instead. On the 4th I was summoned down to the Secretariat and asked to write in at once about retiring; before, the under-secretary had told me to say nothing about it as yet. After this I went round the building and said goodbye to many. The Chief Minister who really must detest me said farewell with all the emotion of a fond father lamenting the loss of a favourite child. Others who may have been really sorry for my going were much more restrained.
It was not till yesterday that I got round to writing the letter desired by the Chief Secretary; so great meanwhile had been the press of preparation for departure and of business letters which had to be done first. The Accountant General (two), the Income Tax Officer (a series) and various firms which were being paid cheques; also the Government official who commandeers cars and who was taking over ours, the Motor Taxation Officer about a refund of tax for the half year still to come, the Insurance people about a refund of premium. Visits to the oculist, Col. Kirwan who for some unexplained reason said that he would always be grateful to us for the kindness shown to his boys at St. Jacut (what kindness?); to the optician twice because the glasses sent were not really satisfactory the first time; to the dentist who hauled out a wisdom tooth -- a hooked monster which luckily came out unbroken and without damaging the surroundings unduly.
Never have I written so many private letters in an equal space of time. I have neglected practice on this machine; for I do not count letters as practice. Last week there was a sad setback in the matter of the reversed carbons -- and (curse it) I now see that the same thing has happened this week too. That comes of using carbons so old that the front looks as dull as the reverse. The greater tragedy this because it is unlikely that Joan will be able to find time to write this week. She has taken no rest for days and still is busy about such things as sorting of keys. Winsome has suddenly presented us with the most delightful of zip leather bags for oddments on our journey.
We do not know where we shall stay in Bombay. It would be a boon really if we were greeted with the news that a ship was sailing at once. Here we have been given no indication at all of the date of any probable sailing. Farewell; if there is such a ship at once, there may be no more letters till we reach South Africa.
(How infuriating about that carbon!!)
(handwritten) Send this on to your Aunt as her copy, owing to the carbon has not been typed.
Much love
Dad
Family Letter from LJT No 43
Taj Mahal Hotel. Bombay
Nov 12th 1942
My dears,
There simply was no time to write a letter on Sunday, the day before we left Calcutta, but a pause in the proceedings here gives me the opportunity.
Up to the very end in Calcutta we were busy. Friends coming to say goodbye take up more time than one ever allows for, and it was only by close application to the jobs in hand, that everything was finished, boxes packed, and all arrangements made by Monday afternoon. The train leaves Howrah station at 4,25 p.m. and Winsome and Harry both came to the station to see us off, as well as a little group of old friends. The weather has become pleasantly cool, which is such an untold blessing when one is travelling. I felt no great emotion at leaving Calcutta for the last time, nor when looking out across the rice fields and the bamboo clumps as dusk was falling, and realizing that the swampy plain on which I have spent so much of my life, will see me no more.
Herbert and I had a coupé to ourselves, and with Winsome’s aid had set ourselves us up with supplies of food, for since the Congress have made such a nuisance of them-selves, trains have been running erratically, and no restaurant cars have been attached. Some meals we had in station restaurant rooms, and some we made for ourselves in the carriage. We boiled a little kettle out of the tea basket which Uncle Percy gave me as a wedding present, and which was first boiled on our journey across India when we arrived out in 1914. The little basket has travelled much with us since then, and I have even made tea in it at 17,000 ft. We were only two and a half hours late arriving in Bombay, which is not bad even in peace time, and got in at the quite convenient hour of 12.30, to find Tim Bevington waiting to meet us. He had telegraphed to us that he was getting leave and coming to Bombay to meet us. It was noble of him, for he is right down in Madras Presidency now, so it meant a long journey, and spending his precious ten days leave in a place, not perhaps as amusing and interesting as he might otherwise have chosen. Luckily he had already found several friends here, and seems to be enjoying himself.
After lunch yesterday we left Herbert to rest, and went round to Grindlays’ to see if they had any news for us. It seems likely that our stay in Bombay will last about ten days. From Grindlay’s we went to Shaw Wallace’s office, where we were to see one Mr. Cunliffe, to whom Harry had written on our behalf. He kindly undertook to find out whether we could get into a country hotel at Juhu, the bathing beach about ten miles north of Bombay. This excellent Hotel is of the monster brand, and not exactly restful, so it seemed better to get Herbert somewhere outside the city. At Juhu the long sandy beach is topped by rough sandhills, on which grow a profusion of palm trees, so that one can bathe and then lie under the shade of the trees, which should be an excellent thing for Herbert. I shant know myself with days on which every moment is not full up with duties of some sort.
Mr. Cunliffe asked us to meet him at the Yacht Club at 6.30, and got some very old friends of Harry’s to meet us there. Mr and Mrs Lucas were some of his earliest friends in India, so we had lots in common to talk about, before we discovered that Mr Lucas was in the same house at Haileybury with Bous and Leonard, and remembered them well, supplying their initials and some brief sketch of the career of each of them. Tim, who was with us, was amazed that anyone could remember things that took place so long ago! We are all having dinner with the Lucas’ to-night.
The Hotel in Juhu cant take us in till Saturday morning, which is rather convenient, for it allows me time to do a little readjustment of packing, see the Bank, and get in touch with a few people I have to see.
Those of you who know Bombay will remember how delightful it is on the lawn of the Yacht Club looking over the harbour. As dusk fell last night, the young moon shone out beautifully, after the sunset colours had died, and the camouflaged ships sank away into apparent oblivion. Tim was all for a visit to a cinema after dinner but I had either seen or did not want to see the films that are showing here now, and further more I felt tired. He was easily able to find companions to go with and I thankfully went early to bed.
This morning I wrote letters, went out to do a little shopping which I had not had time for in Calcutta, and considered what further things I have to do, as well as making a few telephone calls.
After tea this evening we propose to visit the Natural History Museum if it is still open. It is said to be first class, with its birds and animals arranged in groups representing their natural habitat.
Tim is looking extremely well and seems most cheerful and pleased with India. He only regrets the one great thing, and that is that he cannot have his wife and son out here with him. Its awfully nice seeing him, and I am most touched that he has come so far for this meeting. It was sad that we were not able to have him to stay in our own home, and do something for him.
This is a disjointed letter, and badly typed. You may notice that I am useing Herbert’s typewriter, and though the keyboard is the same, the touch is different. Mine is temporarily packed in a big trunk with the gramaphone, and other oddments so that we shall not have too many small packages to take on board.
Best love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Taj Mahal Hotel
Bombay
Nov 14th 1942
My darling Annette
A reversal of custom this week. Will you send the family letter on to Aunt?
We go out to Juhu Beach for about a week or ten days to-day and I’ll have time to write proper letters from there.
Love and constant thoughts
Mother
Family letter from HPV
At Juhu,
Near Bombay.
November 15 1942
My dear Annette (name handwritten)
During the train journey across India I was so full of vigour that I typed no fewer than six letters. Maybe this was due to the sense of relief at getting awa; maybe it was the result of being in the dry air of the C.P. and out of the enervating dampness of Bengal. But whatever the cause of it, it has not lasted and since my arrival in Bombay I have been feeling cheap. Last night in fact I had a temperature again and today I am far below normal, which is always depressing.
I escaped from Calcutta with only one garland and that a satisfactorily small one, presented by my old friend Rai Bahadur Bijoy Behari Mukherjee; and Joan with one bouquet, very nice flowers, which eventually we presented to a small girl on Kharagpur station platform. The journey started ominously with a violent storm just after we had crossed the border of Midnapore district and had begun to see traces of the cyclone of which you will have read in the papers and of which I must have made mention in previous letters. The rain beat in furiously through the cracks round the door and windows of the carriage; and before long the floor of it was awash. We saved our sui-cases and other luggage by hoisting them up onto the upper berth; and luckily there was no rain after Kharagpur where we had the mess wiped up.
A noticeable feature of the journey was the complete ignorance of the railway-officials as to the times and possibilities of meals and as to arrivals at various stations; luckily Joan had provided the makings for meals in the carriage and we did ourselves proud. Two hours only late in reaching Bombay; which was very good when the conditions in the cyclone area (all telegraph wires down) are taken into account.
In Bombay Joan was very busy; arranging about the baggage, dealing with the censor, and enquiring about the possibility of passages. We are fixed up, though precisely when the ship will sail and what ship are uncertain. My contribution to the departure was to lie about in the hotel, dead beat again. I wrote certain letters also but they were merely to various Indian gentlemen who had written to wish me luck on my departure. On the way across India I had done great things with the typewriter, finishing six letters of which three were two page, single-line affairs; a feat unparalleled in my experience.
A man in Harry’s firm, Mr. Cunliffe, asked us out to the Yacht Club one evening and there produced Harry’s friends the Lucases, who gave us dinner next night. Mr. Cunliffe also busied himself in finding passages for us and found us this little hotel to stay in while we are waiting for the ship. It is a cluster of palm-leaf huts at the top of the beach in a grove of coconut palms. Our hut contains a sitting room facing the beach, a bedroom behind that, then a dressing room, and then a bathroom. There is electric light, and although palm-leaf as a material for walls has the disadvantage that it holds many insects and much dust it is very comfortable. At the week-end as now the beach is covered with bathers and gay with dogs sporting and seeking those who will throw bits of coco-nut husk for them. Many people in Bombay have these “shacks” along the beach here and come out at week-ends; though petrol is a difficulty.
We have handed in most of our books to be censored along with papers and gramophone records, and I do not know what we shall do for reading matter here. Of course I can practice on the typewriter instead of reading, though it will have the disadvantage of being somewhat more tiring than to lie on my back and read; and I can learn some of De Croisset’s book by heart.
Already we have met on the beach two Himalayan Club members with whom Joan has corresponded, and Lady Cooper from Calcutta originally but now of Bombay has just looked us up. We shall be going out to lunch with one of the Himalayan Club members in question; I wish that I felt less of a worm.
Much love
Dad
Air Mail Post card addressed to
Miss Annette Townend
P.O. Box 222. S.W.70
Howick Place
London.
S.W.1
England
(bears a stamp ‘PASSED DHC/37’)
Country Hotel. Juhu. Bombay. Nov 16th 1942.
Our last days in Calcutta were very busy. We arrived in Bombay last Wednesday, attended to affairs there, and came out here on Saturday, as we found we should have to spend about a week in this neighbourhood. We are likely to leave on or about Romey’s birthday. After that it will probably be three weeks or so before we have the opportunity of writing. Tim Bev’ met us in Bombay. We all stayed at the Taj Mahal where he still is. Wanting quiet and repose we came to this delightful spot. Sandy beach, Cocoanut palms, primitive palm leaf mat week-end cottages, a perfect climate at this time of year, and you have an ideal setting in which to spend a few days of rest after a strenuous time. The Sale of our belongings went very well, and brought in about twice the sum we expected. Being able to stay our last ten days with H.D. and Winsome was marvellous. Their house is the most comfortable you can imagine. Dad has stood up to the last fatigues of giving over charge, last good-byes and the journey, but found he was pretty tired when we settled down in Bombay. It was fun seeing Tim, who has developed into a very nice young man. He is enjoying the delights of a town life, and decided not to come out here with us, but is probably coming to spend the day to-morrow. After so long at strenuous work, it seems odd to be idle. Love
From LJT to Romey
The Country Hotel, Juhu Bombay
November 17th, 1942
My darling Romey,
Your nineteenth birthday, and I am so distressed because in the stress of moving and the thousand and one things I had to do and to remember, I don’t believe I sent you a proper birthday letter, though I am pretty sure that ages ago I told you that I wanted you to buy yourself a present, as it was so difficult to find things in Calcutta which you might like. I hope you did this, and please forgive me for my most northerly lapse of memory! Sitting at the top of the sandy beach in front part of our “shack”, with the balmy sea breezes keeping us pleasantly cool, it is hard to picture you wrapped in furs and enduring goodness knows how many degrees of frost! I wish I could be with you (Always provided that I too had some furs to wrap in!) and could give some sort of a little party for you. Where shall we all be this time next year? I wonder whether we shall be together again. The news during the past week has made one hopeful that a happier world will come back next year.
It seems ages since I wrote you a proper letter to yourself. My last few weeks in Calcutta were really so frightfully busy. Each day I seemed to have to leave things undone which I wanted to dispose of. Leisure like we are enjoying now, I have not known since we left Australia. It seems most peculiar not to have a whole series of duties to perform each day.
In the train I reread at leisure the most lately received of you letters, to wit nos 67 and 68 describing your first weeks in Victoria, and Nos 74 and 75 from Prince Rupert and from Winnipeg, describing you homeward journey. It was lovely to enjoy them at real leisure and be able to think over and digest them. You really did have a fine holiday, and it is nice that you met so many people and made so many friends. I confess that I am far from having got them sorted out! One mystery is “The Ship”. You often spoke of “the ship” came in and so on, and I always thought that somewhere in the series there would be a description of this ship, but there never was. You perhaps remember my description of Ray Bos, the young American who stayed with us? He lives just on the other side of Mt. Baker from the one you saw. It will be great fun to see your photos and the tourist literature when at last we meet. We shall have to have “Travel Talk” evenings, for we shall have New Zealand, Australia and Africa to deal with, and you will have different parts of Canada.
I remember seeing a travelogue of Victoria some years ago, which showed the most lovely gardens, so its interesting to know that they are an outstanding characteristic of the City, and not just a few exceptions picked out for news purposes. Your account of the Norwegian village near Prince Rupert was interesting. Has it been made by people who got away from Norway because of the War?
I am sorry I had no time to try to find the brother-in-law of your friend Peggy Bowring. As a matter of fact it is extremely difficult to get in touch with army men in our part of India unless you know something more than just the name and possible rank. Where units are and so on, is all very hush-hush, and letters have to be sent through Base Post Offices which are all very slow. If in the future you are asking H.D. and Winsome to try to get in touch with anyone, try to get their number (that is the best) or at any rate their rank and regiment, and if possible what Army they are attached to. One can then hope to get in contact with them through the Army Headquarters.
Annette’s account of the operation on her eye is very interesting. I am so anxious to hear how it has affected the appearance. No doubt Aunt will make some comments. She has always been so plucky over that very grievous trouble. In all her life I have never heard her complain about it. It was sad that she got the news about Richard when she was in hospital with so much time to think about it.
Now that there seems to be a well-established Air Mail to Canada, I think I shall stop sending copies of my letters, as I don’t believe it is necessary. I want your copy to send to H.D. and Winsome, as an eighth copy on the carbon will really be illegible.
I broke off this letter after tea to give soft drinks to two sailors. They wandered up to the beach entrance to this hotel, hoping to get drinks, and sorrowfully read the notice “Residents Only”. We invited them in, and besides the drinks we were able to regale them on the sandwiches and cake which had come for our tea, and had not been eaten. The elder of two was fortyish, I should think, well educated and well spoken. In normal times he works for a newspaper in Glasgow. The younger one, quite a boy, was from Manchester. I think they were glad to sit down and have a chat. They had come out here with a party from the ship on a lorry, and were pleased with it. Nice fellows they both seemed. Typing on the back of this paper will scarcely be legible, so I’ll stop.
Our thoughts have been especially with you today.
Love as always, dear daughter,
Mother
From LJT to Annette No 44
Country Hotel – Juhu
Bombay
Nov 17th 1942
En route for
c/o The Standard Bank of S Africa
Cape Town
My darling Annette
It seems ages since I had leisure in which to write proper personal letters. There was a sort of inevitability about the things I had to do before leaving Calcutta – nothing could be pushed aside to wait for my return – So far I have not become conscious of anything I have left undone – but I expect I have left a few loose ends somewhere –
Its Romey’s birthday to-day. You were nineteen when last I saw you – no – not by a week or two – What a long time it is to be parted – I wonder whether we shall be able to get home next year – The present news makes one hope that the end of the war will not linger so very long now. In the Air PC I wrote you yesterday I think I said that we hoped to get away on about Romey’s birthday. Most idiotically I was thinking of your date not hers.
The letter you wrote from hospital has been often in my mind and I’m afraid I made no adequate reply. I am grateful to you for sharing some of your feelings with us. Its letters like that which seem to bring you specially close. An English mail was sent on with a short message from Aunt, who was up to the eyes in jam making. Evidently you had not yet got home from the hospital. I am anxious for more news of you. Looking back over your life, I cannot remember ever hearing you complain about your eye, which I think is a record to be proud of.
I am writing this letter by hand, as I am feeling a bit lazy and a little tired of my typewriter, which I have been useing a lot to-day. In spite of two and a half very peaceful days here, I think I am still a little bit tired – Years ago I remember reading a book lent me by Phyllis Carey Morgan about women over forty – Phyllis who is ten years older than I, and was then a bit over fifty remarked that what was said of the woman over forty, was in her experience true of the woman over fifty – chiefly that one gets tired quicker and does not pick up so quickly – I am close on fifty and I think I can detect a little of this in myself during these last few weeks –
There will be a lot to tell when we all get to-gether again. It will take a long time for things to come out – It always does when people who have been apart for a long time first meet.
Dad has felt more regret than I at leaving Bengal – He gave so much time and passion to his schemes for the regeneration of Bengal, that he found it bitter to relinquish the last hope – Actually there has been none for some years. Once the control of affairs passed in the hands of Indian Ministers there was little chance of any scheme so big and inevitable taking so many years to get its results, going through – They are all too keen on immediate political advantage.
India, I fear, is going to be a sad country for the next decade or two – She seems detirmined to get rid of us, and ripe to make every possible political and administrative blunder. The food control in the various provinces has been an example of what may be expected. Perhaps if I put in details the censor would cut them out, but it would be useful for the English public to get some idea of the way Indians run things and it would be still better for America.
19/11/42. By waiting a few extra days, we are going to get much better accomodation and be taken right to our destination. I’m quite glad of the extra time here. Many people wrote me fare well letters which I had not had time to answer, so I have done a whole budget during the days here – I am now feeling throughly rested and altogether in better trim. I do hope we shall get letters from you soon after we arrive in Africa.
Best love as always
Mother
From HPV to Annette
At Juhu Beach,
Near Bombay.
November 19th 1942.
My dear Annette,
It is a very long time since I wrote a letter to you personally and I do not know that to choose a place exposed to a howling sea-breeze for my typing is likely to make the writing of this letter a great success, especially when I am not wearing my spectacles and cannot therefore see what I am producing. My chief motive for writing indeed is not so much to convey any news to you as curiosity about your doings. What has come of your Russian studies? of which you have made no mention for long past. Do you keep up your German? and by what means? How goes the Spanish? Have you persevered with the fencing?
To all these questions you should make reply when you write the next letter to your mother. Of the recorder (the taking up of which seems to me little less than miraculous) we have had your news recently.
This is the sort of place that an able bodied child might have built; a group of huts mostly composed of coconut leaf matting, - Or plaiting, rather ingenious. They have split the leaves down the centre stem, and then plaited the fronds left on each side. In a manner that I have not seen in Bengal; perhaps because the product is nothing like so excellent as the reed matting that is made there. But a child would not have thought of putting in the electricity that makes the evenings tolerable; though it is true that I am so tired by the evening that I do not read much.
The routine of my day is this. On several mornings having awoken at about 7, when it is still almost dark, I have gone out to look at the stars; by that time all but the brightest have disappeared but there is a magnificent show of first and second magnitude stars still. Plus some planets. It is almost cold to be out then in pyjamas and I retire quickly to my bed; there to drink tea which is brought at about 7.15. Joan goes out for a walk on the beach and I am barely dressed before she returns and breakfast is ready. I take to the breakfast table two medecines, a pot of Marmite and a pot of Bemax (pot, because we transferred it from the tin) together with a newspaper and my specs; I take away from the breakfast table all these plus a thermos full of tea, a jug of milk and a cup and saucer. And a spoon. By myself I make a procession, as Du Croussett said perhaps. Then I wait till digestion has or should have proceeded far enough to allow of the drinking of tea. And by that time naturally I am in need of a rest. Thereafter a bathe; an entry into the water and a short stay in it. Then glucose in water by way of a restorative, and a lie-back ignominiously because I have no strength at all and the bathe lays me out. Lunch, a lying down on my bed till 3.30 or 4, and tea. Already I am weary of this recital; and by this time always I am weary of the day. After a space we go out for a short walk on the beach. The chief object now is to look for the Green Ray that is supposed to shoot up as the sun sets over the sea; there is none such really but a green blob appears just where the sun has been and this may or may not be due to eye-strain. Dinner; lying on my back; and bed; with perhaps a visit to the beach to see what constellations are showing. In my sleep otherwise not bad I dream many dreams.
The beach is a splendid beach. The tide goes out far and the bay which the beach fills is long, miles long. Good bathing except that the water is not deep. A certain number of troops have succeeded in downing themselves by going out into water sufficiently deep for a non-swimmer to be unable in it to regain footing when upset by the surf; but by all normal standards it is safe. On this beach there are innumerable small crabs; say, tiny crabs. They are not gaily coloured like those at Puri but they have the same habit of eating sand and ejecting it again in small balls. These form the most engaging patterns round the crabs’ holes, mostly like to palm trees but sometimes to my fancy like to birds and beasts of a crazy kind.
We have found a new beach game; bowls. Played with the empty coconut shells that lie about. You will perceive that they have a natural bias; they have in fact too much. A soldier said to me that he did not think much of my bowling ability; but to our great and undisguised pleasure he did far worse when he had a shot at it. It is too strenuous a game for me these days though; the bending over lays me out.
Twice lately I have disgraced myself by searching feverishly for a shoe under a chest of drawers when I already had it on my foot. Such things are cast up against one. Also I was an object of derision when I remarked on our having no window open in our bedroom on the first night, inasmuch as the hut is completely open all along the top of one side; until reminded of this I was suffocating and afterwards chilly.
I am almost persuaded that I saw the Nova in Puppis – and I hope that this is not unintelligible to you; perhaps the English papers have not mentioned a new star’s appearance in Argo and perhaps you do not know that Argo is the constellation that contains Canopus? Anyhow last week when at some time of the night soon after three I looked out on the stars I saw a singularly bright one at the wrong end of Argo and next morning remarked that I should never learn the blinking constellation because after all my study of it in New Zealand I had forgotten that there was this bright star in it; it is no longer there and so I feel confident that unknowing I was gazing on the Nova before it faded. This is really a feat to be remembers; it is much what the Wise Men in the New Testament did.
The time has come to mention that I have resumed the art of poetry: there follow two poems composed when half asleep the other afternoon. Of these the first was designed to assist me to get off to sleep; the second to be a guide to proficiency in typing
First:
If we could relax,
We’d lie like stacks
Of rotten sacks,
Or retting flax, -
If we could relax!
Second:
Let every finger
Rebound from the key,
Like a ball
From a wall,
Let it spring like a flea,
And not linger
At all
On the key.
Very pretty and rather sad.
The mention of sleep reminds me of this. You know how in Calcutta it is the fashion to keep a sheep in a racing stable, bcause it makes the horses feel at home. Some time ago a man seeing a sheep sitting in the middle of a ring of horses at exercise remarked “Never before have I seen a sheep putting itself to sleep by counting horses!”
It is a pity not to use the rest of this sheet of paper but my mind suddenly is a blank. I might tell of the sea monsters that I noticed gamboling in the waves far off; throwing themselves clean out of the water in the manner described as proper to wholes which wish to rid themselves of vermin. Also there would be a lot to say about the varieties of dogs that frequent the beach, and about the would-be entertainers with monkeys and mongooses and snakes and goats, and about horses on which strange persons ride. But all these I voluntarily omit. On the other hand I might fill several pages with expressions of anger at my failure after now two years of fumbling to type even a paragraph of a letter without futile errors and add some remarks about the annoyance which arises in me to think that it doesn’t matter now whether I make mistakes or not, since never again shall I have to do anything that matters. I ought to be philosophic about retiring onto the nearest shelf but I am not.
Puppis of course is part of Argo; and I may add that in the early morning when only the brightest stars are still showing we have the most magnificent show of the first magnitude stars which form a circle round Orion. This is what might be called a comfort piece, though not appositely. It will be interesting to see as we go south again whether I shall be able to recognize at once all the little constellations round the South Pole which I learnt so carefully two years ago.
Much love
Dad
Family letter from LJT No 44
The Country Hotel,
Juhu Beach. Bombay
Nov 20th 1942
My dears,
We find Juhu quite delightful. This hotel consists of a central building, with a number of “shacks” made of palm-leaf matting, round about it. The lounge and dining room are simply concrete floors roofed over and open on all sides, except for reed blinds which can be dropped whenever the sun becomes annoying. We were lucky to arrive just as one of the biggest shacks, with its sitting-room opening on to the top of the beach fell vacant. I am sitting in it now, looking out over the sandy beach and blue sea to a wooded point beyond. The groves of cocoanut palms have not been destroyed by building these huts amongst them. Several trunks of trees are incorporated in the walls of our dwelling. The palms are pretty in the daylight, but lovely under the bright moon, which shines these nights. Our shack is a roomy affair. We have a sitting room furnished with sofa, armchairs, writing table, cupboard, standard lamp and small tables; a bedroom, dressing-room and bathroom, all adequately furnished. The food is simple and well cooked and quite good. Moreover in a small personally run place like this, it is easy to get the little adjustments to his diet that Herbert needs. The weather is ideal at the moment. We are never too hot or too cold. The temperature of the sea is ideal. It feels just cool as one goes in, but one can stay in indefinitely if one feels inclined. In fact we have come to the ideal spot in which to rest and relax. People live in the simplest of clothes, shorts and shirts, bathing dresses, or the simplest of cotton frocks, so we have had to take but little out of our suit cases, and are ready to go at a moments notice.
Through the good offices of Harry’s friend we got an offer of passages on Friday morning. The letter about them was actually being typed when I went along to Grindlay’s office. There I learnt that all gramaphone records and all books must be passed by the censor, as well as notes and anything in manuscript. Luckily I had packed the records so that they could easily be taken out, and the main part of our books were all in one small suit-case, so I took them to the necessary places to be deposited. Believe it or not, the gramaphone records have to go to one office, and the books to another some distance away! There were forms to be filled up, and much of the usual paraphanalia of starting on a voyage, so that I was busy most of the morning, and had to go back to Grindlay’s after lunch. During my visit there, I pulled my typewriter out of the big trunk, and slipped the tea basket in in its place. It has been put to very good use this week, for I have done a large number of Air-graphs and of air-postcards to carry our Christmas greetings and news of our flitting to various of our old friends to whom I had no time to write in Calcutta.
I was extremely glad we had not arranged to come here till Saturday, for I should not have been able to come away from Bombay till the evening.
Harry’s friends, Mr and Mrs Lucas, kindly fetched us from the hotel to go to dinner with them on Thursday night. They have a flat looking over the sea, some way from the centre of the town. Its a charming little place, and we spent a pleasant evening with them. We had not fixed up anything for Friday evening, owing to uncertainty of movements, so after tea, we decided to go to a six o’clock cinema, and quite enjoyed “Washington Melodrama” in one of the new air-cooled houses.
Quite soon we settled into a routine out here. Owing to the fact that the whole of India is living by Standard time now, it gets light very late here, and is only just light at 7.15. I get up and have a quick wash and go out for a brisk walk for about three quarters of an hour before breakfast. We are about the middle of the Bay, the beach of firm sand stretches for about a mile and a half on either side of us, possibly a little more. I have been walking barefoot, but got a tender patch under my toes yesterday, so had to put on sand-shoes to-day. About 11.30 we bathe, and that seems to take up the rest of the morning. Most after-noons I have spent writing. Fairly late after tea, we go for a stroll along the beach or play bowls with the empty cocoanut shells, which are always available on the shore late in the day, for men come along to sell unripe nuts for drinking, or ripe ones for the flesh, to wanderers on the shore. Its most strange to be in this atmosphere of leisure after fourteen months with not a single day on which I was not busy. I wish Grace and others of you who have had no leisure for many long months past could share the joys of this rest with us. I was tired when I arrived here, and feel vastly different now.
Tim decided to remain in Bombay for the last days of his leave. He had bought introductions to Bombay people from men in his regiment, and had invitations to the Races on Saturday and Golf on Sunday. Furthermore he met lots of men he knew in the Taj Mahal Hotel, and was enjoying the hotel life and the cinemas and so on. He came out to spend the afternoon with us before his leave finished. Its interesting that he should be in a sixth Lancer regiment, but a different one from Len’s old crowd.
Saturdays and Sundays are the great days out here, when all the owners come out to their shacks. We had several visitors, and were taken off to lunch with some members of the Himalayan Club, who have recently been climbing in Sikkim. Mr and Mrs Corbett Wright are an attractive couple. They have a house on the hilly point immediately to the south of this Bay. He goes in to Bombay by the electric train to work each day, and finds the labour entailed well rewarded by coming home to their delightful house and garden, just at the top of the beach, and within reach of pleasant riding country. They were here during the morning, and drove us back to their house where we had drinks in a garden full of flowers and looking over a low wall to a stretch of rocks and the sea. We lingered so long looking at photos of Sikkim and talking that we did not get back here till tea-time. Some old friends from Calcutta, the head of the Burma Oil Co turned up and we had a chat with them. They ask why we did not write and go to stay with them. Its kind, but Herbert is really too tired to stay with people unless he knows them very well, and we are better out here. Another member of the Himalayan Club fetched us along to drinks before dinner in his shack, and we sat and watched the sun sink into the sea, as we talked of the beauties of Sikkim.
On our way to and from the Corbett Wrights’ house at Pali Hill, we drove along the coast road, which has to turn inland to get across a creek, just South of this bay, and then bends out again through a fishing village where the famous Bombay Duck is prepared. The fish is slit into strips and hung up on racks in the sun to dry. You can imagine the smell! It seems to me that fishing villages have something in common all over the world. They are primarily untidy, or apparantly so. Huts or cottages are set down at random. Boats are pulled up at all angles. Piles of nets hang over any convenient object, and a certain fishy smell pervades the atmosphere. What I like about the fishing folk here, is that the women work alongside their men. They seem jolly folk. I see them when I go for my morning walk. They come to this beach to let out seining nets. The men row the boats in a half circle from the beach, and then half a dozen pull on either end of the rope to fetch the net in. Some times the women lend a hand with the hauling, but mostly they come carrying bundles of nets over their shoulders or great round baskets on their heads. There is none of the soft fat about them which you see on the better class purdah women. These women, from the little girls to the old grannies, are slender and upright, look healthy and jolly, and seem to me to have a much better life even if they are poor. Its odd that the average Indian cant see what a thing purdah is, and how little hope there is of India becoming a decent reasonable country, till she lets her women out of this ridiculous servitude. Now the tide is high in the middle of the morning, and as we bathe, from round the corner, come the fishing fleet. Yesterday there were twenty seven vessels fairly close to the shore, looking so pretty, with their big triangular sails and their high prows. There were another dozen or two further out to sea, and the whole made a pretty picture.
If we had stuck to our original plan we should have left here already, but Mr Cunliffe rang up to say that if we did not mind waiting a few days longer he could get us on a ship that is bigger and faster, and moreover will take us to our destination, which the other one would not have done. It is no disadvantage to us to spend a little longer here, and we are glad to have the more convenient means of transport.
After leaving this place, we shall not have the opportunity to write for some time I expect, so there will be a gap in letters.
In my rather hurried letter last week, I forgot to tell you that the sale of our furniture and belongings went very well indeed, Calcutta is full to over-flowing and furniture hard to get, which was lucky for us. We netted about twice what we had expected. A sale like that is most convenient, for it clears up everything, and saves one so much trouble.
I have left twelve cases with Harry, containing silver, books, house linen, blankets and a few treasures, which are to be sent home to us after the war. Otherwise we are remarkably free from belongings, and it gives me a nice light sort of feeling.
I do hope the Air P.Cs and the Airgraphs we have sent reached you in time for Christmas.
Best love to all
LJT
From HPV to Romey
At Juhu Bay, Near Bombay
November 21, 1942
My dear Rosemary,
It is ages since I wrote any but a circular letter to you and I am tired of them, though it is to be said that the personal letters differ from the circular in no way except that there are no carbon copies.
However, writing to you separately gives me the opportunity of congratulating you on the masterly way in which you handled a series of strange machines while on your travels, and on the serenity with which you plunged into the unknown as well as the ease with which you picked up friends everywhere. There was a time when I could not travel any distance without being given meals in trains by perfect strangers, but this was proof not of any particular friend-making-capacity, but of being able to look like a lost lamb. The faculty left me with the passing of years, and anyhow I hope that the mention of it is irrelevant to anything connected to you.
We have now been here a week and I have continued to write letters which would be beyond count to anyone who cannot count with ease above ten. How honesty spoils eloquence! Never have I written so many private and business letters within two weeks or for that matter three. Letters received have been gratifying; several of them have contained news of refunds of insurance and of tax and one told of the successful sale of my three pistols. Three because I was given a big automatic when I first went to India and was left a small one by a Mr. Marr, whom you may remember after all as Commissioner at Jalpaiguri; and then I bought a revolver to carry on me always when, after the shooting business, I was ordered by Government to do so. The little automatic to my astonishment fetched almost as much as the revolver, though it is a futile weapon, and the big automatic which I had thought unlikely to find a purchaser at all because thirty-one years had probably made it antiquated, fetched as much as it cost originally. It is a great thing to have got rid of these weapons because they involve much correspondence with the police.
I have ventured to go into the sea for a bathe for the last few mornings, when the sun has warmed things up. Even so I feel it a bit chilly, though it is at the same time extremely hot and the sun scorches. It is annoying to find that I tire quickly and indeed can scarcely swim at all, and after the bathe I become quite lethargic for the rest of the day in spite of draughts of glucose and water.
Have your papers mentioned the new star in Puppis, which is part of the constellation Argo? It blazed out about two weeks ago and was extremely bright for some days, though now it has faded. I think that I saw it when it was at its brightest or almost its brightest. On the second night of our stay at the Taj Mahal Hotel, I looked out at the stars at about three o’clock and mentioned to your mother next morning that I must be a mutt not to remember that there was such a bright star in the lower part of Argo, when I had spent so much time learning it when we were in New Zealand. I made a series of sketches of it as shown in two star maps and in the little book by Gifford, which I have mentioned so frequently. The explanation must have been that I was looking at the new star. If I had had any gumption I might have claimed to have spotted it as such, but the last time that I spotted a new star (in Aries) it turned out to be the planet Mars and I got no credit from it.
The discovery that I have actually made is that with the empty coconut shells which litter the beach after bathers have drunk the juice out of them, one can play a very ridiculous imitation of bowls; all the ‘woods’ are of different sizes and weights and have absurdly exaggerated bias and it is therefore very difficult to place them near the jack. We had a triumph over an Other Rank, who remarked as he passed that I was not much of a hand at the game. I had placed my nut within some seven or eight feet of the jack and it was an open triumph when he, being challenged, gave a demonstration and sent the nut rolling in a wide circle the wrong way and left it at least twenty feet off its object. Simple pleasures.
There are chameleons in the wall of this hut; the biggest that I have seen. There seem to be some unknown animals also, because there are strange beatings, as if by dogs’ tails on the walls. There is a muskrat which comes in and rapidly goes out again, doing no harm. I prefer this animal to the frogs, which visited us the first day, though they do not do much harm either. More alarming is a big black hornet thing which excavates holes in the bamboo rafters and nests in them. If this were a typical tropical home there would be also be miscellaneous vermin, but as things are, the livestock do not worry us.
On the beach there is a vast variety of animal life, mostly different types of dog, with certain horses, crabs, British troops, and on Sundays such amusing additions as snakes and mongooses (with their charmers), monkeys and goats. The crabs are not the red type which made the Puri beach so lively, but they also make patterns in the sand with tiny mud-pellets which they cough up after digesting anything edible that the mud contained. At first these pellets make a neat circle round the hole in which the crab lives, but each time that the crab goes out to forage or to visit a friend, it clears a straight track through the pellets and gradually the most elaborate patterns are produced. Foliage mostly palm trees and ferns birds, butterflies and insects hiding among them. There are (strangely) no seagulls of any kind, but some men do fly box-kites.
I have distinguished myself by searching long and vainly (twice) for a sandal that I had already on my foot (on consecutive days, too) and by complaining that it would be stuffy without a window open in the hut at night----when it was pointed out by your mother there is no wall along the length of it for its top three feet. Certainly, it is time that I retired.
Perfect weather here except that the sun burns a little too much for my taste. It is hard to realize that you will be huddled in fur coats and twelve changes of raiment in Winnipeg. It is the fashion here to wear little; bathing dresses at meals even, a custom of which I do not much approve, because it takes a very nice figure and a very nice skin to look pleasant in such attire, and those who appear in it are those who have neither!
Much love,
Dad
Air Mail Post card addressed to
Miss Annette Townend
P.O. Box 222. S.W.70
Howick Place
London.
S.W.1
England
(bears a stamp ‘PASSED DHC/37’ and ‘DHC/27’ Also handwritten in pencil ‘ABB1846)
The Country Hotel. Juhu Beach. Bombay Nov 26th 1942
You may be surprised to see that we are still in this place. We had a chance to transfer on to a transport which is only half the cost for fares, and will take us to our destination, instead of leaving us with a long & expensive railway journey to do the other end. It was worth waiting for, especially as we are so pleasantly housed here. I feel all the better for a fortnight’s rest & Dad has benefitted too. He has found a copy of Pepys Dairy in the little library, and is reading out choice morsels to me to my great pleasure. In the press of getting away from Calcutta I forgot about Christmas, so I send our thoughts & wishes now. I hope you got my usual cheque via Aunt. I hope you will be able to be home for Christmas Day.
Its been nice having a little time for sewing & for thinking, during these last days. The war news is so good to think about. How I am holding my thumbs for the Russian push to go on. What is the origin of thumb holding? Besides thinking of the war, my Mind strays after plans for our future home. I wonder whether Essex would be too cold for Dad. I would like to be near London so that if you are working in town, you could either live at home, or get home easily for week-ends. Lovey wrote to say good-bye. Her little school is apparantly a great success. Love and blessings from Mother.