1944 September
From LJT to Annette
Great Leighs
Sept 8th 1944
Dearest Annette,
It has seemed lonely without you this week – How nice it will be when you can be home for a lot of weeks on end, and when I am not so busy – I hope work had not piled up too badly on you.
Two days ago we had an air-graph from Romey, saying that Ogden Turner had been to Montreal and asked her to marry him – I enclose it, for you to see, as well as the various letters about the beginning of the affair, as you may like to hear all about it, and I am sure she would not mind your knowing – As you see, she says she has a queer aversion to announcing an engagement – so in my reply I have told her that I am only telling you and Aunt (when she comes home) and asking you both to say nothing about it till we hear more from Romey – The slight note of doubt in her air-graph worries me a little, but as I have said to Susie, we all have to make pretty much of a leap in the dark when we get married, and Og and Romey seem to have that most essential thing – a community of tastes. The poor dears must have been through a pretty bad time – You can imagine how much I felt not being near enough to help and comfort Romey a bit – though of course no one can do very much in that line – One has to get through ones bad patches on ones own – Now I wait anxiously for the promised letter from Romey at the Rankins – I do so hope she will send it by air – but fear she wont. I have advised Romey against trying to come home now – If she succeeded she might not get back for ages, and if she intends to marry Og, it would not be fair to him. With the school-master’s long vacation, perhaps they will be able to come to England in a year or two – and/or I may be able to go to Canada.
By the way, I’d like to have all these letters back when you have done with them – The hand-written letter on the backs of 2 family letters is somewhat difficult to follow – I should read her latest a-g first, then hers and Helen’s letters – and then the air-graphs in serial dates, as I have arranged them.
Gavin came back on Wed – and may go off for two or three days to help Sonia and the other girl get the barge from the depot to Limehouse – Did you hear that he called in to see you on – or about the very day you had left Bletchley? Peg put down a good many more damsons in 80.2 (?). Mr Harper bought the rest and will take all the available pears – which is a great convenience.
We had the fire on in Byeways yesterday and it was most warm and comforting – I banked up the fire without coal last night, and it was dead this morning – As it was a sunny day we did not re-light it, but I think I shall do so to-morrow.
George Pilcher did not get my letter as the Carleton Club was closed for a month – He is now on his holiday in Cornwall – When he comes back to London on Sept 15th he will see what he can hear about possible jobs for you – Surely you would be well qualified for the Foreign Office, he says – especially if you could work up your Russian.
After doing the cooking and other jobs I feel singularly disinclined to go out any where, and have not attempted to do so –
The sofa is here and much liked and used by Dad – Auntie May’s companion arrived last Monday, but I have not heard how she is getting on –
Best love
Mother
P.S. 11/9/44 Your letter came this morning – and in the throes of washing day I failed to get this posted, so add an answer – Aunt arrives back on Monday – If possible I should like to stay here for a few days after she returns, and (since there is now no special hurry about coming to you) I think I will first go to London and come on to Bletchley on, say Friday 29th unless it would suit you better for me to come a day or so sooner. I might stay till the following Tues or Wed – or even Thursday – and then want to fit in a visit to Bous and Cecil – Possibly you could find out whether the dates about then would suit them
LJT
Sorry about the squeezed in P.C. I did not realize there would be so much to write – It would save a lot of writing to and fro about dates if you could find out when “the Bouses” could have me, and try to book at the Park Hotel or elsewhere accordingly. I look forward to “the procession” which you and Irene are going to arrange So glad the rest did you good – Love Mother 11/9/44
From HPV to Annette
Highways
Sept 22nd 1944
My dear Annette,
It is long since I wrote to you: but not since I thought with affection of you. It is not because two flying bombs have just been over – closer than any others yet so far as I am concerned – that I have been moved to write. The deterrent has been the fact that you know already the things which I wrote to Rosemary.
But now- there is news. As for example Pim’s theft of two cabbage leaves from the goats’ tin on the table: he was caught descending with them in his mouth. – I saw near the tool shed in the field a brown animal in shape like a ferret: it adopted evasive tactics. – My labours in the humus-heap-to-be take shape: slowly slowly: I find things. A pair of secateurs, all rust: a broken oilstone: a bit of leadcovered flex. – Today I scraped up and took in a barrow to the raspberry bed (where Parp designs to plant radishes carrots?) two loads of admirable humus. – I have secretly removed to the heap of materials for my compost a lot of nettles that I cut beyond the ditch: so stealing from the goats. – The kids are much quieter since they moved down to the shed with the other two. Gavin constructed a lean-to against the shed – to hold hay and the milking stool: and Parp at once deposited an old chamber pot in the middle of it: to what end? We do not know. – I spent yesterday morning in patching up the torn strap of a brown hat box found in your room: an irritating job. – today no odd jobs – except stringing a lot of beans: and doing the rooms.
This morning a letter from one of the Bengal ministers to say that he has persuaded the Government to include the first of my irrigation schemes (a two-million pound one on pre-war figures, but far more now) along with the scheme for pinning down the Damodar river in the channel which it deserted last year. So I wrote the beginning of a long letter to Miss McLeod (“Tantine”) in New York: the old lady who financed the visit of Sir William Willcocks, the famous Nile engineer, to Bengal to advise on irrigation there.
My reading of Richard’s book on handwriting has not helped me much. Of my Malay studies I say nothing: I had a letter from Mary Ow – two letters – discoursing at length about Malay and my queries about difficulties: now from your record I can clear up one of hers.
A horrid thing! Peggie’s friend has given the name of the hero of the Cornet of Horse: and I was wrong: worse; Sir Charles was right – Much love Dad
Sir Frank Noyce asks to be remembered to you: he wants to fix up another lunch with you.
Postcard from LJT to Annette
Ladbroke Hotel. Kensington Pk Rd W.11
Sept 25th 1944
Your play box has (I hope) been sent as my advanced luggage – In it I packed the brown fur coat, and some of the food stuffs out of your parcel from Baroness Giskra – Dad nailed a bit of tin over the lock, which can be easily be levered off.
No doubt I shall hear from you soon about arrangements – I’m greatly enjoying London and look forward to seeing you - Mother
From HPV to Rosemary
Highways,
Great Leighs,
Nr. Chelmsford.
Undated letter but marked ‘rec’d week of 8 Oct
My dear Rosemary
Do not think that it is due to indifference to your fortunes or to lack of affection that I did not write comments on your news about Og. There is no sense in my writing when I have no particular advice to give; and not knowing Og and for that matter knowing little about you (of whom I still tend to think as being the age when last I saw you in 37) I have nothing to say, nothing except generalisations likely to be of little use or interest to you. What your mother said seemed to me to cover the situation admirably.
As regards money the only difficulty in the way of doing as your mother suggested with the funds held by the Eastern Trust Co. Is that the permit that covers them expires at the end of this year. The authorities gave it for three years only; and when this expires we do not know whether they will renew it. Similarly the remittances from Calcutta were authorised for three years and no more. There will be consultations with Bous. Not that I shall be going to stay with him when your mother does. I funk the journeys, tiring as I do even on the short trips into Chelmsford. On the other hand it is intended that I should go down to see H.D. near Salisbury before he returns to Calcutta as he will do next month.
Having forgotten what news I gave you in my last letter I am in danger of repeating the gossip about this place: for there is nothing else to write about. I am typing very badly by the way. Our of practice. My labours in the garden leave me so tired that I do not much fancy the extra labour of sitting up at a table to type; and so I have done very little since I came home. It occurs to me that I have not made any use of the new typewriting sentences; and this causes me to remark that picking up Robinson Crusoe the other day I found a sentence with all the letters of the alphabet in it complete – but not an interesting one.
Joan has gone into Chelmsford this afternoon (it is nearly 4 o’clock, an unusual hour for me to be writing) in order to meet Rex Bevington who is home on leave. In the Navy and bringing down the flying bombs, she says; I suppose that I must have heard of both of these things but if I did they did not penetrate. She has continued to work had at the housework, with good results so far as we are concerned; but she will be glad when Grace returns and leaves her leisure to get down to various things in which she is interested. I cried off this excursion; I did not know that it was designed till just before lunch by which time I had tired myself digging.
For I have gone back to the preparation of the compost pit. At Grace’s suggestion I started digging just inside the field on the left of the gate; for, she said, the builders had left masses of brick and rubble there and she would be glad if it was cleared up. An inauspicious introduction; but there is less rubbish than I expected and so far I have no ground for complaint. What has gone wrong however is that after laboriously digging out 1 ½ feet of iron-hard clay full of stones over a space 10 feet by 6 I came across a drain which runs right across the site in such a way as to make it impossible to construct ventilation channels alone the bottom of the pit as I wish to do; and I have had to scrap all that had been done and to start again a little further along. This time I set to work systematically, marking out the four corners of the pit to be and sinking a tile in the floor at exactly the depth to which I want to dig. One digs 1 ½ feet below the surface but gets another 1 foot by piling up the excavated stuff all round; along the bottom there will be two ventilating channels 6 inches deep; when the contents of the pit ferment and heat up the air comes along the channels and up through the contents, bringing the necessary oxygen for the bacteria.
Did I mention that there was no proper rake for collecting the old leaves and such needed for the compost? and none to be had in shops? I have circumvented the difficulty by taking the remains of a spring-pronged rake from Barnie and fitting on wire prongs about a foot long; the most Heath-Robertsonian contrivance (did you see that he died a couple of days ago?) but effective. With this I have raked down a great part of the bank beside the drive, discouraged by the thick ground-ivy and the thick berberus and also by brambles and wild roses. Much of the accumulated dead leaves of years remains because it cannot be removed without destruction of the ivy; but I am collecting gratifying amounts of half rotten stuff which ought to come in useful and among it there is a fair amount of the wood-ash-like fungus which is essential for compost-making and which sometimes takes time to establish in the heap. To be able to introduce some as a culture to start with is an advantage. Much of the labour connected with the pit-making is the result of my deciding to save the turf and put it into the heap instead of building it up into the pit-wall. I do not want all the earth that is mixed up with the roots and shaking it out takes time and breaks the back more or less.
Barnie looks with some disfavour on my activities; he does not believe that it makes any difference how one sets about mixing the compost and he has decided that there is not enough material in the garden and field to make any useful amount of compost. Also he has various jobs that he would prefer me to do; but they have the demerit of being hard and uninteresting and there is this point to be considered . . . . . . that if I do a job of my own choice I can without shame stop when I like, before I am too tired, whereas when I do one of someone else’s I am driven by conscience to go on till it is finished. The family is vastly amused by his taking the opportunity of his sitting in a field when he had led out the goats and kids, to cut a corn on his foot, though I can see no reason why he should not. Also by the tale how the two kids dashed up to him and took little sucks at the folds of his trousers when he took refuge from the rain in a shed on another such excursion; “Parpie’s Nudders” said some one. He takes the animals out like this so that they may graze and get a change of diet; it suits goats much better to do this than to be tied up in a field, for they cannot bear to be left standing in the sun and will neither feed nor chew the cud when there. Certainly his methods with goats are a success; they give much more milk than any others in this neighbourhood. The story of the corn-cutting came out because he lost one of the family bicycle trouser-clips when thus occupied; to me it seems more extraordinary to wear trouser-clips when leading out goats for a walk than to cut corns in the open, but no other member of the family seemed to notice the oddity of it. Thanks to his efforts and to those of the goats the lane is now almost clear of over-growth; some time back, it is asserted, the whole place was so overgrown that it was hard to pass down it. He brought back a grand supply of mushrooms from the field one evening; the large kind that at ordinary times no one eats because they are coarser than the others; but they are quite good. But they are so thick that they soak up vast quantities of fat when fried and are thus very rich eating; and all the household except myself (and I ate very few because I am not supposed to eat fried things) suffered for it during the night and next day. Peggie brought in more yesterday, picked on the front lawn if you can call it such now; and boiled in milk they caused no distress to any. Annette has a new Penguin book on edible fungus with coloured illustrations which we have read with interest; but no one seems to have seen the stranger kinds of them in this neighbourhood.
Gavin was delighted with an announcement on the wireless the other night; referring to “restricted areas” it said “restrictions are removed generally but as regards Highways and other places right of entry is reserved for the military.” Silly. Annette found pleasure rather in a description of Antonescu who was said to have become bland and vacillating since his fall from power: there had been a sad agreement at dinner that it is my custom to speak in a domineering manner – the which took me decidedly aback and lowered my spirits inwardly though I trust that I gave no sign: and Annette at once decided that I must model my demeanour on Antonescu’s in future. Which I might well do; but it is sad to have all my illusions about myself shattered.
Mind you, I believe myself mildness itself in converse compared with Peg or Gavin. Peg holds forth without a pause, snapping at her parents and laying down the law about all things in a manner comic as displaying ignorance and affectations; Gavin dictates as if to a class of not-too-bright schoolboys and queries every remark made as if the object of all conversation was to submit it to his judgment and to satisfy him as to its correctness. Both are remarkably callow and half-baked. It would have done Gavin a lot of good to have been in one of the services so that he might have learnt that there are other standards of excellence besides those of an Oxford college. He is undoubtedly very clever; and if it were not for that birth mark he would be very good looking.
Peggie is very nervous about the flying bombs: whenever she hears one she gets up (they are usually at night; or maybe “were” though some have come over since the papers, not the government announced that there should be no more) and looks out. The nearest, and last so far, was about three miles away; it sounded quite close and the house shook. Has anyone told you that the walls and ceiling of the drawing-room are badly cracked? From bombs during the blitz. Though none fell really near. Apparently it is the usual thing for houses to be cracked; even where they are officially not damaged. (For some reason the ribbon has jammed; hence the failure of the spacing and the faint impressions. I have pushed it along by hand.)
Gavin has gone off for a few days to help on a canal boat (not to be called a “barge” though it is what we always think to be one) to which one Sonia, an Oxford friend, has been appointed; with two other girls. They find the work of getting through locks very tiring; and on this trip there is a succession of locks near together. Lucky for him that the weather has turned so fine.
You might like news of the pets. Broughie is very decrepit. Blind in one eye, very slow, and inflamed about the stern. A stupid little animal at any time, I think; but I am sorry for her. Perkins thin but in fine shape; her two new kittens (but they are six weeks old now) are enterprising and engaging; Wilberforce tabby and the other, name forgotten, white. The latter is without fear. I have been chasing her out of this room, the sitting room in the annexe, at two-minute intervals. Perkins is made about ‘offal’ and if there is any, liver or the like, she strops herself against the legs of anyone in the kitchen indefinitely. Also she has very definite ideas about the times when the kittens ought to be given milk, and comes to complain about the least delay. It amuses me to see her run like a dog when called by Barnie down into the field; mostly after field mice. Pim (Pym?) has decided that my lap is the proper place to sit in after dinner; I dislike it but allow it in memory of Richard who was fond of him. He devours cocoa; the clink of cups sets his appetite going and he dribbles from the mouth amazingly. A bib has been provided; but he dislikes it. His ability to swallow food is beyond imagination. He climbs up and eats beetroot out of the tin of goats’ food; he stuffed himself with dried beans; he wolfed chocolate pudding and custard; he always expects and gets a slice of dry bread (home-baked, for he will not touch the shop-bread) before breakfast each morning; and he was found with his head wedged into the tin in which dog-biscuit is kept. Not because he is kept short of proper food; the cats do quite well for meat and milk. Perkins eats less bread; but even she got through two slices the other morning.
Peg is very pleased with a tale told her by one Bettie Bower (?) who was sent round to see how many children from London could be billeted in local farms. A woman said “Sorry, we can’t take anyone; we have only the two rooms and my husband and I sleep in one; my son has the other bedroom, but you can’t put anyone in with him, he smells so bad.” Not to refined; but then neither is Peg. She quoted with relish Mrs Wiggins who described a girl in the village as no better than a “street-moppet”. How do you like the description “sky all neezled with clouds”? What it means I do not know; but it sounds vivid.
Did I tell you that Annette has given me a Linguaphone record of a Malay conversation? as a joke, after hearing how peeved Joan was with me for going on with Malay on board ship although I shall never again have occasion to use it. Like most of the Linguaphone records it has been composed as if with the deliberate idea of giving no phrases of practical use; but I found in it the answers to at least three things that none of my friends from Malaya had been able to explain.
Louise lent me the Education of Hyman Kaplan years gone by in Chinsurah, telling me that I should like it better than Damon Runyan – but I didn’t. Amusing but I did not know anyone who spoke at all that way and found that there was rather too much of it. The Peter Fleming Brazil book irritated me; too superior. His affectation that because he got along all right when escorted by someone who knew the ropes there was no danger in doing trips by oneself became tedious. I have read nothing since I came back here except what is on the shelves, (including Richard’s books on sailing), because I have not joined a library; the bus trip into Chelmsford is an obstacle.
Much love, my dear child. I do hope that everything turns out all right for you
Dad
From LJT to Annette
Ladbroke Hotel
Kensington Pk Rd W11
Sept 26th 1944
Dearest Annette
How nice of Mrs Evans – and how nice of you, to make room for me! Of course it will be much nicer than going to a hotel – If you dont sleep well on a Lilo, I am quite good at it. H.D. will only be in London next week – not on the 10th, when Dad and I go down to E. Knoyle. I am going to Richard III to-night – Tickets are hard to get – I might try for “Peer Gynt” on 3rd or 4th and if I can get them, write at once to H.D. asking if he could lunch with us – Failing that I’ll see what is on on the 10th and if its Richard III and I can get two seats, I will take them for you – and you could take a friend – We could perhaps travel up to-gether, meet Dad and all have lunch – I am sure he and I would be leaving for E. Knoyle before a matinée could be over. Mokes has written sending quite a lot of information – The best day for trains and buses is Monday – so I have said I will go over to Buckingham on that day by the 8.9 a.m. (an awful hour!) and meet her at the White Hart. She suggests going out to lunch at the farm – I have said I will with pleasure if I can be sure of getting back to Buckingham in time to catch the 4.21 – which gets to Bletchley at 5-1- but I dont want to be later than that. Otherwise we will lunch at The White Hart. I’d love to see Doris if its possible to fix it. I have refused the invitation to stay the night – and said its unlikely you will be able to come – By the way I shall be able to bring a little provender with me – i.e. a few rations saved from this week, and I have a pkt of tea and a tin of dried milk – I’m enjoying London so much – especially a little intelligent conversation! Andy Cowan and I lunched to-gether yesterday – He is such a charming person!
I’ll be on the 3.6 from Euston on Friday – and ask for the taxi at the station. So looking forward to it all!
Love
Mother
From LJT to Annette
Ladbroke Hotel
Kensington Pk Rd. W.11.
Sept. 27th 1944
Dearest Annette
“Richard III” is entrancing - ! I would love you to see it – As you will see from the enclosed paper, there is no matinée which fits in with the idea of coming to town next week to see H.D. and a theatre. “Peer Gynt” on the 5th is’nt much use because H.D. goes to Highways for the nights of 4th and 5th and I dont know whether he will be in town that day. Poppy would get you tickets at any time at Whiteley’s and I will treat you to 2 dress-circle seats. Dad will probably be passing through London from Salisbury on Oct 20th* but I doubt whether he could stand 3 hours theatre plus journeys. – Still if you came up that day you might lunch to-gether. This is just scurried off to help you with arrangements for next week – Somehow I feel we have left it a bit late to make arrangements to see HD – who will probably be very busy so if you agree, I would rather stay down at Bletchley –
In haste and with love
Mother
* I go to Maidenhead.