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The Townend Family Letters

Correspondence from the 1930s - 1940s between members of the Townend family
HPV + LJT Letters 1936 to 1938

1937 February

From LJT to Annette

The Towers
Cossipore
Feb 3rd 1937

My darling Annette

After having so many visitors in the house, and a lot of odd people in to lunch, it is a real treat to-day to have the house entirely to myself – Idris is flying Brigadier Tute, his immediate superior officer, who is down from Simla and staying with us, to Jamshedpore, to see Tats’s Iron and Steel Works and Shaw Wallace’s Tinplate works – (Uncle Harry’s special care since their baby-hood)

They left at 6.30 this morning and I don’t suppose they will be back till 6.30 this evening – Marvel of marvels no one has rung me up – and I have been working away all morning, chiefly checking and arranging last years English accounts and writing half a dozen letters or so – Having decided to devote the afternoon to writing English letters, I have had a long cane chair put in my favourite spot, under the banyan tree by the river and am writing here very happily, with the blotted propped up on my idle – writing is therefore, apt to go a bit astray.

I’ve been reading through your letter about the Aunts theatre-party and your last orgy of cinemas – Did I say that Grace Moore in “The King Steps Out” sang every tune she got near an open window? I had rather think I got that impression. I know the film annoyed me rather, because it could have been so much better if the story had been better told and the production better done. In the story if Grace Moore had sung the same song in the hotel as she did in the Palace etc – so that the King traced her by it, the introduction of the singing would not have been half so forced – Then all the Court scenes were so bad – No one behaved as they would in even the smallest court I am sure – though its true that ex-king Edward is reputed to have said, after a visit he paid to Government House, Bombay when he was Prince of Wales “now I know how Royalty live.” Grace Moore and Franchot Tone are both such charming people and capable of really clever acting that its a pity to see them wasted in a poor film. I cant understand why so many films either have such poor stories – or being based on good stories, go out of their way to spoil them.

Its a pity that Brigette is coming to England in term time, for I suppose it will be difficult for you to see her. If you do get a chance, I am quite willing to stand the money for you to entertain Brigette and her husband to tea and a cinema if you like. I think it would be nice for you to invite her to something, if you can.

Peg’s ragging about “Head-Girlish” remarks reminds me of my youth, when I got a good deal of ragging on the same account – There was a young naval man – Ralph Bamber, who used to pull my leg a lot – calling me the “Head Prefect” – etc – I suppose its all good for one – and certainly people who are never teased, often seem to develop into rather tiresome personalities. I quite agree with you on the subject of drink as a matter of fact. I can enjoy a party just as well without – though I must say if you happen to have rather a sticky collection of people, its wonderful how a little champagne, or even less costly liquor, will cheer the show up – Still I think it is a great pity to be dependent on it.

Still no news of your scholarship exam. I wonder whether you told me about it in the letter that was burnt.

Seven weeks to-morrow we leave Calcutta! I can scarcely believe it!

Best love, my darling
from
Mum

From HPV to Annette

Calcutta
Feb 3rd 1937

My dear Annette.

A book which I have read lately, not a detective story, has put me wise. “At my age” said the old man from Gloucester “one no longer digests: one merely ferments more or less.” Precisely! I suffer you see from a boule d’air – a whole string of them. And (believe it or not) that most refined of phrases which we learnt from the Countess is not in the dictionary.

For this reason (the boule) or maybe because I am weary or maybe because I am morose by nature, I have this evening refused the invitation to dinner which Mr Notley extended to us all. Your mother and me, Idris Matthews and the Brigadier – Mr Notley also lives here now that he is back from his holiday in England (he is head of a firm) and the Brigadier is on an inspection trip. A genially loud and almost insufferable bore. They all scheme methods of getting him invited out so as to have a rest from him – and then find that they too have to trail along.

At last the Finance Member after sitting on the case for five months has agreed to the expenditure on working out detailed plans for the first of my big irrigation schemes. He had me in his room most of yesterday morning about it. Rather worried because he calculates the cost at £2,460,000 instead of £2,100,000 as estimated roughly by the Engineers – they had not allowed for interest during construction, or not enough. The Chief Engineer had said that the work would take eight years against six suggested by the man who designed it. I remarked that the Chief was merely arguing from past methods and that if he couldn’t put the job through faster than that it would be well to sack him: also that on my latest figures we could finance the £2460000 with ease: and that it was no use worrying about all this till we got detailed plans and estimates. Sir John Woodhead, the Member, more or less agreed: he told me that he’d allow the expenditure: his written decision to this effect has still to com.

I ought to be very pleased, for this means that a singularly tough nut has been convinced and the scheme ought to go through: which is something when I’ve worked like blazes for nearly four years on it. But I don’t feel particularly gratified: for I suspect that it is too late. So much time has been lost that our reformed Government will be in and the Governor will have left before any detailed plans are ready: and the odds are against anything been done – beyond talking. Yes, I have missed the bus, or caught the wrong one!

Much love
Dad

From HPV to Rosemary

Calcutta, Feb 3rd, 1937

My dear Rosemary,

I have a feeling that it is terribly late; actually it has just struck ten. The fact is that as soon as the others went out, I called for dinner, forgetting that they had decided to go at 7:15pm. We usually dine at 8:30; I was an hour out. I didn’t discover it till by after dinner when I had the idea of seeing if it were time to go to bed. 8:45! Persuaded that my watch must have stopped, I checked it by all the clocks in the house with growing incredulity.
Last week I failed to write to you or to Annette. Something happened to prevent my writing on Wednesday evening -- a headache among other things, guest in the house too, what else? And on the Thursday when I was about to sit down to write after breakfast, your mother said that she must get into Calcutta early.
It has been a hard week. Not that I have done much! But to do even a little was hard. There comes a time when one goes over the edge and it takes a disproportionate amount of rest to get one back again. Which reminds me that my Sunday’s rest consisted of working in the garden; cutting deads off the dahlias which may sound easy, but was hard work due to their number and to the sun on my back. At any rate, it kept my mind off things for a bit.
Such as fountain pens. This abominable thing is not running freely and when I gave it the smallest shake, it spat all over the place, as you may judge.
The hot weather shows signs of approaching, though we are still in winter clothes. We begin to feel that blankets on the beds are superfluous, though it is cold in the middle of the night. The mist is thick in the mornings, so thick as to be definite fog twice. The cushions on the verandah were sopping and the floor on my room near the door quite wet.
It is bad weather for the temper. Mine has not stood up to it. At last the conviction is sinking in that I am not so sunny boyish as you might have believed, if you had believed me. Or is it “sonny boy” after all?

Much love,
Dad

From LJT to Rosemary

The Towers,
Cossipore, Calcutta
Feb 3rd, 1937

My darling Rosemary,

I am writing my letters under very pleasant and comfortable circumstances -- reclining in a long chair under the big banyan tree by the river. Everyone is out, and its delightfully quiet and peaceful, a nice change after rather a lot of parties both in Calcutta and here in the house. Seven weeks tomorrow we leave Calcutta -- and then only another two till we see you! It is all very, very exciting!
We are getting on to quite friendly terms with several birds in the garden. Lately we have been throwing scraps of toast to the mynahs who frequent the lawn while we are eating our breakfast,. Now they hurry up directly we appear, and if nothing is forthcoming, they ruffle up their feathers and get very agitated and angry. The little grey wag-tail with the yellow patch under his tail, has become very brave, and wags up quite close to us, but doe not seem to care about human food. He is called “Dr. Galstaun” after a certain Armenian here, who pilots an aeroplane, but is very bad at it and has had two crashes when landing. Idris says this little bird lands very badly-- hence his nickname--!
I am teaching the chaprassi to collect, dry, and bottle seeds for me, and he is learning to do it nicely and saving me a lot of time. I like keeping a bit of my own seeds, because then one can be extravagant about sowing them and can make early sowings, not minding the risk of damping off, and also one can sow where one wants the things to grow and thin out, instead of sowing in boxes or seed beds and transplanting. I think transplanting puts lots of things back quite a week or ten days, and some things never do so well after it.
I wonder whether there will be any kittens while Charlotte is home. Is Susan too old to have kittens now? I don’t seem to remember hearing anything about her having a family for some time and she must be pretty aged.
Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Wayht? They were in Jalpaiguri with us and had two daughters, Margaret and Anne, who used to play a lot with you and Annette. They bought Tommy, the donkey, when we went to Calcutta. It is they whom you see in this photo of Idris Matthews and myself. It was taken at Chiltagong.

Best love to you, my darling,
From Mum

Family letter from LJT

The Towers
Cossipore
Calcutta
Feb 4th 1937

My dears,

It was a scrappy sort of letter I wrote you last week. The days when I should have been writing were very busy ones. I had a sudden spate of committee meetings, and afternoon functions, and had to be in Calcutta all Wednesday and all Thursday. I am doing a little job for the Girl Guides while Lady Baden Powell is here at the beginning of March. I am responsible for seeing that there is proper accomodation for theGguides who come into Calcutta for the day, and for serving them with a mid-day meal. We thought we should have to put up tents and a shamiana, but through knowing Col Elliot, the Viceroy’s Surgeon, I have got permission to use the big supper-room and cloak rooms, which occupy the whole of the ground floor of Belvedere, the Viceroy’s Calcutta House, in the grounds of which the rally is taking place. It will be a saving of expense, and an enormous saving of trouble to me and to many others. I am going to look at the accomodation tomorrow morning. The great Scout Jamboree seems to be going on with great success at Delhi. I hope the Guide shows down here will do as well, but I feel rather dubious about them. We are so short-handed in the Guides in Bengal, and also so short of funds, that running a series of entertainments is financially an anxious business, and hard work for those concerned. Thank goodness my job is a straight forward one, and does not entail much preparation.

I dined with the Cookes on Thursday, and we had a Himalayan Club CommitteeMmeeting after dinner. I felt a little sad for it is probably the last meeting at which Mr Cooke and G.B. will be present. G.B. Gourlay goes off to Madras for good at the end of this month, and Mr Cooke goes on leave early in March and will probably not come back to Calcutta. I shall miss them both very much, and so will the Himalayan Club.

Idris has been feeling a bit, what shall I say? oppressed is not quite the word, but it seems the nearest I can get to it, - - this week. The Brigadier who is number two in the Ordanance in India, has been staying with us and doing his annual inspection. Idris does’nt like him at all. He is one of those red-faced extremely self satisfied and extremely stupid men, who the Army seems capable of producing quite frequently, and who also quite frequently manage to get into important positions. The only pleasure Idris gets from his visit is letting him get deeper into the mire of giving opinions and criticisms of technical matters, about which he knows nothing at all. I find him a tiresome old man too. He is between 55 and 60, and a great old boy for the ladies. He loves parties, and believes himself to be no end of a social success. We had a dinner party for him on Saturday and have had a couple of more or less official lunches on his account, and have welcomed invitations from other members of the Ordanance factories for him to go out. He leaves on Saturday, and I am afraid his departure will not be regretted. He has the most enormous collection of stories of all grades of decency and indecency, and when he has had a good few pegs, they are apt to vere much towards the latter category. He is entertaining Idris and myself and one or two other people to dinner at Firpo’s to-morrow night, and taking us to the pictures afterwards.

We have a new inmate at the Towers since Saturday, Lewis Notely. He and his wife were living here with Idris for a few months last year, before going home more or less for good. Mr. Notley is a tea broker, and was very well off before the slump, but things have not gone too well since then. He is out again for a few months, and will live here. He is an awfully nice little fellow, and a pleasant and easy inmate of the house. We have known him and his wife for years and always been fond of them. He entertained us all (except Herbert who would’nt go) to dinner at the Bengal Club last night. He gave us a wonderful dinner, with grouse that might have come straight off the Scotch moores. After dinner the party developed into a sing-song, though no-body seemed to know more than a few words of the chorus of any song.

The Cold weather went with January. It is still lovely, but it is getting warm, and a few of the men are appearing in thin coats. We have had to have our breakfast table moved from the sun into the shade. Fans will be needed in about a month, I suppose, but in seven weeks we take train for Bombay and then “Home”!

Herbert and I went to see Tom Walls in “Dishonour Bright”. Its amusing and he is awfully good in it. I was reminded of this by speaking about “fans”, for Herbert’s enjoyment of the film was much spoilt by the fact that something seemed to have gone wrong with the ventilating plant at the New Empire, which is an air-cooled cinema, and of course completely airless unless the exhaust fans are working properly.

I have had one or two nice peaceful days out here this week, and have done a lot in the garden. I have sowed all the hot-weather seeds and superintended some jobs that the mali did not seem capable of coping with on his own. I love being able to stay out here all day and not have to go into Calcutta.

The Elections are finished, and have caused little excitement amongst the Europeans. We sit back now and wait to see what happens next. Its amusing hearing each of the big Indians in turn telling what dirty tricks his opponent was up to, and how much he spent in bribes! I suppose Indian politics will be even more corrupt than American or French ones, for the Indian does not even pretend to admire the truth or feel in any way bound to keep promises.

That seems rather a cynical notion which to end, but the depression about the Reforms wore itself out years ago. Now there is just an attitude of dull resignation.

Best love to you all,
LJT


From LJT to Annette

The Towers
Cossipore
Calcutta
Feb 10th 1937

My darling Annette

With every intention of devoting an evening hour in the garden to writing to you, I took pen and paper out with me, but after drinking a quick cup of tea with Idris at 4 o’clock (He was off to Calcutta on masonic business) I fell into the temptation of gardening – and continued gardening till 6 o’clock, when Mr Notley came back. We then went for a walk along the river front – There’s a way past the factory and in front of some more of the officer’s houses – I enjoyed a spot of exercise, though it was only a small one, and there was a magnificent sunset across the river – Now washed and changed I can write a bit till Dad comes in –

Your last letter was on the eve of departure for school – Yes! I quite agree with you that the custom of girls who are leaving giving presents to the Staff – is a very silly one – If I get a chance I will speak to Miss Capstick about it – unless, later, we decide that it would come better from you after you have left and conformed to the custom –

Its funny that nobody ever mentions your scholarship exam! I had a letter from Miss Capstick this week, saying that she is very sorry that you will be leaving, but that she quite understands, but she does not say a word about the exam. I suppose you are going in for one?

I’ve not met the game of “Manopoly”. It sounds rather amusing as games go – but I’m a poor judge, for I never really care about playing any of them – though out at dinner last night I played “Can you go” without positive distaste.

This is being a lovely week for me for I have not had to go into Calcutta at all – and hav’nt to do so till about 5.30 to-morrow when I take Dad to see Ralph Lyn in “All In” – Friday I have a busy day in Calcutta – but all these days I have been catching up with all sorts of things, which had been lying undone, waiting their turn for attention – When I get too much piled up, it worries me a bit – I like to be, at any rate, almost up to date. The arrangments for my share of the Girl Guide Rally are about as complete as they can be up to a day or two before the actual affair – and its not been nearly as much work as I thought it was going to be when I took it on – The the term goes on well –

Best love
from
Mum

From HPV to Annette

Calcutta
Feb 10th 1937

My dear Annette.

Cutting deads off dahlias by torchlight, electric-torch light, was our pastime on Sunday evening. Unpremeditated of course. Your mother kept saying “There’s one – in the spot light” but the spot light was two foot across and even by daylight the deads are almost undistinguishable: there are so many of them and those so big that they escape notice.


The Commissioner of Police asked me some time ago if I would report any cases of dangerous driving in the streets: and I sent in two notes one day last week. In consequence he has sent me a wad of printed forms for the purpose. Then of course for days I saw nothing worth record: but on Saturday coming back from the club in the evening I struck two bit of dangerous driving and one car without a read lamp and sent them all in. So long as I do not have to give evidence –

On Saturday also giving was to importunity I went to Boike the cheiropractor. Last week daily I grew more and more tired and slept worse and worse: thus I became abject and agreed to your mother’s suggestion to try the man. He didn’t do anything that day but on Monday after taking an Xray he jabbed my spine in places as I lay face down on an articulated couch and then smote me an unexpected whallop behind the ear saying “Painful, isn’t it!” I laughed aloud. – Much the same sort of thing as the osteopath man but less of it and less alarming: no feeling that at any moment my neck might break. Ruefully I had to confess to your mother that I was much less tired after than before the visit. And she says hopefully that I look much better. I went again today. He says that he things the colitis should disappear (but perhaps he says something of the sort to everyone). No results guaranteed: spine manipulation will have some good results but he cannot say precisely what to start with. Xray photos give only a general idea. – However there is this to be said. I actually felt hungry for a bit this evening and it is ages since I really felt that and not merely tired or greedy.

My job is to end with me. My feelings are a bit hurt perhaps. It is to be handed over to a Secretary nominally but that means nothing being done.

Much love
Dad


Family letter from LJT

The Towers
Cossipore
Calcutta
Feb 11th 1937

My Dears,

It has been such a nice week, for I have scarcely had to go into Calcutta at all, and have been able to spend a lot of time in the garden, which is looking lovely now, and to catch up with all sorts of arrears of letters and work. I did have a long and busy day in Calcutta last Friday. I went to Belvedere, the viceroy’s House, and was delighted to find the Babu in charge, was the little man who used to be in charge of the Governor’s house at Barrackpore eighteen months ago, when I helped to run a Guide camp there. He seemed equally pleased to see me, and is willing to do and to lend, anything he possibly can to help us and save us trouble. Later in the day I went to a women’s lunch party, given by an old friend who is shortly going home for good. Most of the eight women there definitely belong to what I might call the intelligensia of Calcutta, but one is noted for her complete lack of grey matter, combined with a great wish to be intellectual. The result was that at moments the conversation was very comic. The “simple” lady held forth at great length on Communism, and said some marvellous things. Milly Chaudhuri, one of my Indian friends, who is an exceptionally clever woman, happens to have studied communism closely, and went to Russia a couple of years ago when she was in Europe. I saw her eyebrows go up every now and again, but with great self control she refrained from saying anything. From the lunch-party Milly and I had to go on to the opening of the Health Exhibition, at which for several years I had charge of a section. The opening ceremony was as dull as such things almost always are. Subsequently I made a rapid tour of the Exhibition. I recognised some of the pictures, charts and posters which I got painted for the Woman’s Health Section many years ago. At one place I was amused by the following. There were two models, one of a man being mauled by a tiger, with lots of blood flowing about, and next to it a nice peaceful white cat. Above it was written the legend “The Tiger slays one. The cat kills thousands by carrying diphtheria germs. Which would you rather keep?” This was in Bengali and I had to have it translated, so I said to the young Bengali. “I am sorry, but I would still rather keep the cat.” Indians, of course scarcely understand the temptation to keep cats, for there are scarcely any nice cats in India. Knowing that by 4.30 I should be feeling a bit exhausted, I had arranged to go to tea with Percy Brown in his flat, and spent a pleasant and restful hour or so with him, before meeting some people for drinks at the United Service Club. I finished the dayby dining at Firpo’s with Brigadier Tute the old boy who had been staying with us all week, and going on to the farewell concert of the Italian Opera company who have been here for about a fortnight. They most of them have beautiful voices, and though the Concert lasted till almost one o’clock, it did not seem too long.

The old Brigadier went off just before dinner on Saturday, much to Idris’ relief. I don’t think we were any of us sorry to see the last of him. He was a slightly exhausting guest.

Herbert is still doing great deeds in the way of pruning and cutting back trees, and came in half way through Sunday morning almost as black as a sweep. There is such an awful lot of smoke here that all the plants and shrubs get frightfully black. The man who is going to act as Secretary of the Himalayan Club while I am home, came out on Sunday morning, to get some idea of what the work is. We had a big party for lunch, including the Maharaj-Kumar (Sone of the Maharaja of Burdwan) and his wife, and it went very merrily and did not break up till about 3 o’clock, so we just had time for a short rest, before going out to-wards Barrackpore to a party given by my Bird-Collecting friend, Dr Law. It was a nice party out in the garden, and we were allowed to wander round and look at the aviaries. Luckily I fell in with Sandy Marr directly I arrived, and Herbert with his old Minister Sir Bijoy Singh Roy. Sandy Marr and I left them talking politics on the verandah, and went off to look at the birds, about which Sandy knows quite a bit. At tea we met some people who have become the most ardent advocates of Dr Hay’s system of diet, and who begged me to try it for Herbert. Both Husband and wife are convinced that it would cure his colitis, and improve his general health. They almost forced me to promise to get the book. I duly sent for it the next day, but the booksellers replied that there is not a single copy available in Calcutta, there has been such a run on it. As a matter of fact Herbert has at last consented to go to a chiro-practitioner, (You know –one of these men who manipulate the spine, saying that all our good or ill comes from the nerves which run down the spinal cord, to be distributed over all the body) I know so many people both at home and out here who have received great benefit from this treatment, that I have wanted Herbert to go for a long time. He was so depressed by this last bout of tummy trouble that he went to Dr Boike on Saturday, Monday and Tuesday, and he rather reluctantly says he does feel much better, and yesterday for the first time for months, he felt hungry. Boike thinks his treatment will cure the colitis, and hopes it will do Herbert’s general health a lot of good. He cured two friends of mine of dysentry last year, to the huge annoyance of the ordinary practicioners, who had been trying to cure them for years and had failed.

There was a Symphony Concert on Sunday, to which I went with Barbara Griffin’s father, dining with him first at the United Service Club. It was by way of being a popular concert, and they did not do anything very heavy which suited me very well and I throughly enjoyed it.

Since then I have stayed blissfully here, working in the house and working in the garden. We have had a few interruptions, as a small tea-party on Tuesday, which was interrupted by an extraordinary storm, very exceptional for this time of year, which came blowing up the river, masses of dust, jet black clouds, and a little rain. It was enough to make us take refuge on the verandah, and finish our tea there, but the rain passed and allowed us to go out in the garden again, which was lucky, because our guests had specially come to see the garden. We are paying a return visit to the Bents on Saturday. They have the most lovely old garden in Dum dum, and have promised me various treasures from it.

The weather has turned quite hot, and most of the men have gone into thin suits. We are beginning to debate whether to have the windows shut to keep out the mosquitoes or open to let in the air of an evening.

Our breakfasts out of doors are still delightful. Our mynahs are getting distinctly tamer, but the crows have discovered that someone is getting food of a morning, and are becoming rather a nuisence. Herbert and Idris resort to all sorts of whiles to frighten off the crows, without alarming the mynahs, and the domestic staff join in with enthusiasm.

Five weeks to-day! My heart sinks a little when I think of all the things I want to do before I leave.

Best love to you all
LJT`


From LJT to Annette

How silly of me to put Auntie’s letter in your envelope!

The Towers
Cossipore
Calcutta
Feb 17th 1937

My darling Annette

I’m so glad that I now know when you start your scholarship exam – We shall be in the throes of looking after Lady Baden Powell here on March 1st. 2nd. and 3rd. I have got some papers from Somervell to fill in, in case you win a scholarship. They want to know full details of our income so as to judge whether to grant you scholarship allowances or not – I am pretty sure they wont. The question arises whether we can afford to send you to Oxford, paying full fees – or whether it would be better to send you to a foreign university – most of which are, I believe, a good deal cheaper. The important questions are –

1) Would a foreign University be cheaper
2) Would it be best to go to a French or to a German one
3) Would a foreign university fit you better for whatever job you think of taking up. I have always had an idea that it might, but really know very little about it.

Actually I think we shall be able to manage the Oxford expenses if you are keen to go, and willing to be fairly economical – but I think its worth while thinking about the other. I have a sort of faint faraway feeling than an English varsity career for a girl is apt to make them a bit stereotyped and to give them a strong bias to-wards the teaching profession, which is one I hope you wont choose – I’d like to see you launching out into something more adventurous and that would bring you in contact with interesting people and things –

Your story of Wendy Hope, hiding in the vaulting box is a good one and would make an excellent situation in a play – Its worth tucking away in your mind.

I’m glad you are going in for compass and map reading in Rangers this term – That’s a thing that can be a definite asset to you in later life. I do quite a lot of it one way and another, what with trekking and flying.

We – or perhaps I should say, “I”, am deep in investigations about cars – We don’t think its worth while storing the Armstrong while we are away – and buying a second hand car for use in England – so we are proposing to sell it, and get a new car at home – The question is – what – Smart young men is very dressy suits, show marvellous looking cars – but how to tell what will give the best service? Entrancing blue or green or red leather unholstery soon gets shabby and one really wants the engine that wont let you down – As always, Dad finds it difficult to give his attention to anything like this when he is working – He’s so much better since he went to Dr. Boike – I don’t know whether it is cause and effect – There must be something in it, I think.

I’m afraid the Continental tour wont come to anything – Dad seems to get very depressed at the thought of anything of the sort, and it would be pretty expensive – for he likes to go to fairly good hotels. If you and Richard and I went on our own, we could probably stay at quite small cheap inns. Supposing we do decide to spend the Summer holidays at St. Jacut again, we might perhaps take the car across to France a few weeks before – pick you up and do a bit of wandering before the others come over. Given good weather and a car, I think St Jacut ought to be quite good fun – don’t you?

Best love, my darling
from
Mum

From LJT to Rosemary

The Towers,
Cossipore Calcutta
Feb 17th, 1937

My darling Rosemary,

Yes! I think we will treat you to a term’s tennis coaching, if you are keen on it. A little proper teaching in the early years may make such a lot of difference later.
I am sorry to say that “Archie and Mehitable” was only lent to us -- I don’t now even remember by whom, so I am afraid we can’t bring it home for you to read.
One of the little grey squirrels has started coming to play on the ledge that runs round the house just outside my windows. Every now and again he pops his head and shoulders in through the jhil-mils (Venetian shutters) and has a good look round. The other day when I came suddenly into the room, he was frisking about on the floor. In a way I would like to tame him, but I’m afraid they are destructive little wretches. I’d like to know what goes on inside his head, when he gets inside the room.
I have put my name down at the Library for a new book by Grey Owl---I forget what it is called. I have a sort of idea it is “The Empty Cabin”. Lately I have been feeling the lack of exercise very much and wishing I had Tip-It-Up here to ride. I miss him a great deal. When I come home I must go for some long walks. Have you any nice ones to show me? I believe that last week I said it was only five weeks till we leave Calcutta. Of course I was wrong. It’s five weeks tomorrow that we leave. I was just telling Annette, we are trying to make up our minds what we will do about a car when we come home. We have to decide quickly, if we want to get one soon after we arrive.
There have been great works going on in the garden this week. I am getting some new beds dug, and a bank made behind a shrubbery which I hope will hide the manure and leaf-mould pits. The mali who likes to walkabout rather elegantly, either loosening earth round the plants with a little fork, or sweeping the lawn, has been made to dig pits and cart earth and bricks, to his great discontent!

Goodbye, my darling, and best love.
From Mum

Family letter from LJT

The Towers
Cossipore
Calcutta
Feb 18th 1937

My Dears,

I am late in starting my writing this morning for a variety of reasons. Some workmen are making two little lots of steps down to the edge of our pond, and are being incredibly foolish about it, so that I have had to go two or three times to see what they are up to. Next the mali wanted directions about work in the garden, and finally there has been a certain amount of settling up about a party we had last night. It was a nice party arranged for Kingdon-Ward. The only drawback was that he had not arrived! His boat was delayed by bad weather, and he will not get here till 8 A.M. to-morrow. I had collected all his friends, who are roughly the central group of the Himalayan Club. They came out about 7 o’clock for cocktails and stayed on for an “American Supper”. We mustered thirty altogether. I arranged small tables for four or six in the dining room. People made up their own parties for the table and helped themselves to what food they wanted while the servants carried round drinks. It seemed to be a great success. It is a bit of a change from the ordinary dinner-party, and it also allows people to go home reasonably early. People began drifting off about 10.15, and every one had gone by 10.45. Percy Brown went as far as to say he thought it was the nicest party he had ever been to, but I dont flatter myself that that is quite true, especially as considered in the cold light of day. It was a nice chance for us all to see G.B.Gourlay who leaves in about a fortnight, and for me to introduce the man who is going to act as Secretary of the Himalayan Club to some of its leading personalities such as Percy Brown and the eminent scholar, Johannes von Manen, Secretary of the Asiatic Society, to whom I always send travelers who are in need of information on almost any subject. Idris was so pleased with the party, that he wants to have another soon.

We had an extraordinary week-end of rain and storms, which, though it battered own the flowers that were actually in bloom, rather severely, has done the garden a lot of good. It also freed the Malis from watering for four or five days, and they have been able to do a splendid lot of constructive work. I have spent a lot of time over the garden myself, and Herbert did magnificent work on Sunday tying up the draggled dahlias and cutting off “deads”. He has quite a turn for gardening, and I believe when we retire, he will get quite keen.

Have any of you seen that absurd film of Ralph Lynn’s “All In”? Herbert and I went at 6 o’clock on Friday, and laughed tremendously. There isn’t a word of sense in it from beginning to end, but on the other hand there is scarcely a word that is not funny. I was at the New Empire again on Saturday night. I dined with Shros ( Mr. Shrosbee, the Managing Director) and went to see “The Garden of Allah”. Most people thought it very bad, but I must confess I enjoyed it quite well. The colour is an advance on anything I have seen before, and Marlene looked perfectly lovely. I had the advantage of never having read the book.

A lunch-party on Sunday, and people into tea, and more people coming back from Dum Dum with Idris for drinks, pretty well filled up Sunday. We have a new treasure in the house, Mr Notley’s big gramaphone, with a splendid library of records. We had a bit of a concert before dinner on Sunday, and I promise myself to listen to quite a lot of music, but so far hav’nt accomplished much.

A good deal of my time and thought this week has been taken up with the subject of cars. We have decided to sell our Armstrong, and buy a new car at home. The question is, What? I have been going to several motor dealers and looking at cars. Having now got some ideas on the subject, I am going to try to drag Herbert out of the office early to-morrow to look at some and make a decision, for if we want a car reasonably soon after we arrive, we must cable home at once. This sort of thing always seems to me to take up such an unreasonable amount of time. I sympathise with the old lady in Portsmouth, aunt of Admiral Charles Maden, known as “Charlie’s Aunt”, who used to send a postcard to her dress-maker, and one to her milliner, saying “Repeat in blue” or “in Red” or whatever colour she wanted, when she required a new dress or hat.

Herbert seems to be benefitting considerably from the treatment by the Chiropractioner, Dr Boike. He is certainly very much better than he was ten days ago. I told Mr. Shrosbree about him, and Shross went to him at once. He has been over-working badly, and got into such a strung up state that he could not sleep without taking some narcotic. He says that the immediate result of Boike’s treatment was to make him feel fearfully tired, but he went home and slept for six hours without taking any drug, and without dreaming. It will be grand if I can bring Herbert home feeling fit for once.

The following may be of interest to those who study the ways of Nature and believe in the intelligence of plants. Standing on the verandah yesterday talking to Mogul, I was startled by a terrific bang. A Large Cocoanut had fallen on the asphalt drive with such force that it bounced over a four foot high wall. “A good thing” said I “that no one was standing under that tree.” “Dont you know” or rather “Does not your honour know”, that Cocoanuts never fall on men”. Never has it been known for a man to be hit by a cocoanut though there are thousands and thousands of trees in India”, said Mogul.

Spring is here! The Bengalis say that it begins on the Shorishoti Puja, the Festival of the goddess of learning, which was celebrated last Monday and Tuesday. To me the sight of the new leaves on the trees and plants, and the strong scent of the mango blossom which comes floating in through my window, is enough to give notice of it.

Idris has been asked to go to Cooch Behar to advise about a site for a proper areodrome, and I am flying up there with him on Monday, and on Tuesday we hope to land on the big thatch grass area just by the Reserve Forest where we went about this time last year, and have a day’s gooming in the forest on elephants, and come back here on Wednesday. It ought to be very interesting.

Last week I believe I said that it was only five weeks till we leave Calcutta. Of course that was a mistake. Its five weeks to-day!

Best love to you all
LJT

Short handwritten letter to Rosemary from HPV (this typed by Joan Webb)

Calcutta, Feb 18th, 1937

My dear Rosemary,

A large party last night to meet Kingdon-Ward. The one flaw was that he is still on the train coming from Bombay. But the lure of the possibility of his presence, or your mother’s popularity, brought in as nice a bunch of people as ever you saw. The idea was that they’d come out at 6.30 and stay to dinner. Asked 30 in all, 28 present. Perhaps this includes our four selves. A good party. All mixers except two who stayed stuck till shifted. Rather a busy time for me finding cars for them afterwards, or rather arranging for cars to move to let others out--traffic control like. But though I was tired by bedtime, I went off to sleep quite well and slept quite well, too. Both not altogether usual for me.

All this shows that Dr Bioke’s treatment is, or seems to, be working. It may merely be the change in the weather of course, or one of my ‘ups’ following a ‘down’. But I begin to believe it to be Bioke --though I am as far as ever from believing his explanation of the why of things.

Much love,
Dad

From HPV to Annette

Calcutta
Feb 18th 1937

My dear Annette

A scrawl of a letter merely as a guarantee of good feeling. We had a party here last night, due to start at 6.30 and go on indefinitely: and I had an appointment with Dr Boike beforehand which made me late. The party went well: beyond doubt your mother makes good arrangements: also they were nice people. This party prevented my writing letters yesterday – but why did I not write before?

As to Boike I feel a certain shame when I go to the house: as if visiting discreditable relations. In fact I feel “snob, très snob, presque cad.” Universal agreement that he’s done me good. So much so that Mr Shrosbree who had been feeling rotten after dengue fever which he had neglected crept off and had a do: he told me last night that he felt much rottener in consequence but believed that he was better: to wit, he had been able since to sleep without drugs, as he had not done for some time.

Work has gone more easily of late: though there is the feeling always that the decision to abolish to job makes it rather futile to go on. They are not abolishing the work but universal agreement has it that it will fade away into nothingness. H.E. does not realise that nothing is done out here unless either it is routine or someone splits himself pushing it.

Much love
Dad

From HPV to Rosemary

Calcutta, Feb 18th, 1937

My dear Rosemary,

A large party last night to meet Kingdon Ward. The one flaw was that he is still on the train coming from Bombay. But the lure of the possibility of his presence, or your mother’s popularity, brought in as nice a bunch of people as ever you saw. The idea was that they’d come out at 6:30 and stay to dinner. Asked 30 in all, 28 present. Perhaps this includes our four selves. A good party. All mixers except two who stayed stuck till shifted. Rather a busy time for me finding cars for them afterwards, or rather arranging for cars to move to let others out--traffic control like. But though I was tired by bedtime, I went off to sleep quite well and slept quite well, too. Both not altogether usual for me.
All this shows that Dr Boike’s treatment is, or seems to, be working. It may merely be the change in the weather of course, or are of my ‘ups’ following a ‘down’. But I begin to believe it to be Boike --though I am as far as ever from believing his explanation of the why of things.

Much love,
Dad


From LJT to Annette

The Towers
Cossipore
Calcutta
Feb 21st 1937

My darling Annette

This letter is only just a bit of nonsense to wish you success in your exam – I think – if air conditions are reasonably good, you should get this on the very day – I meant to write much earlier – but there have been people here all day and I hav’nt had a chance. Idris and I are off to Cooch Behar in his plane at 6 a.m. to-morrow and though its now just on 10 p.m, I have not yet done my packing – not that luggage for an areoplane is very extensive. Perhaps its a feeling that its getting late, makes my mind a bit of a blank – I don’t really feel I have anything to write about, except just the wish that you should know I shall be thinking of you on the 1st.

Dad’s improvement in health seems to be keeping up. It would be marvellous to have him quite fit again – Good luck to you, darling
from
Mum


Note from HPV to Annette

Good luck, my dear, and bless you.

Don’t bust yourself trying too hard.

Much love
Dad


From LJT to Annette

The Towers
Cossipore
Calcutta
Feb 24th 1937

My darling Annette

I trust the slight cold for which you were isolated did not turn out to be ‘flu’ or any other fell disease –

Charles Holmes was at a cocktail party at which we were present yesterday evening and he says that he had a cable to say that June had got through her appendix operation so well, that there was no need to cable again – which I was very glad to hear - Auntie Doris has had a bad time one way and another, with illness. I’m glad we are not the sort of family who are always ill –

Capt Kingdon Ward is here this week – He’s a queer little chap – I am fond of him and yet he irritates me a bit too. He’s queer about making arrangements – For example – Yesterday morning at breakfast he said he would like to go down to the Botanical Gardens. Idris said he would like to go too (It was a holiday) so we arranged to leave at 2.30 and take our tea – I had every thing prepared – and at 2.15 he suddenly said he had some work to finish and thought he had better not go! Of course it did not really matter – but it’s a little irritating. If he had even told me before lunch we should not have had the bother of preparing the tea! I cant quite understand that sort of thing. I can perfectly well understand doing something on the spur of the moment, but not backing out of something I have already arranged to do, unless there is a very good reason. However I suppose much must be excused to people who have the qualities that Frank Kingdon Ward has - ! And this sort of thing seems to go with the exploring sort of temperament. It was a frightful job to get Ron Kaulback and John Tracy to any given place at any given time – not that they did not want to go, but because they had been so long out in the wilds that time made no impression on them.

You see in my “family” letter that I did not get to Cooch Behar after all.

Best love, my darling
from
Mum

From LJT to Rosemary

The Towers,
Cossipore Calcutta
Feb 24th, 1937

My darling Rosemary,

It was clever of you to ask for dates of posting letters to us on the way home. Having considered the matter, I realized that this will reach you when it is already too late for instructions re posting to Bombay, so I am sending the instructions by Air Mail and hope you will have received them safely.
I am sorry you were popped into the Sanitarium directly you went back to school. I suppose it is a good thing not to let colds spread, but it is a bother being shut up and put to bed for such trifling ailments.
It’s rather fun to know that there may be some pups at Highways next holidays--Won’t Charlotte be excited if there are!
There is going to be quite a lot to write about in the family letter, I think, but I don’t seem to have a great many things to write to you about specially. Nothing is more dull than a letter that is just a string of comments on the one received.
Auntie Winsome and a young man were here to tea yesterday and the young man -- Ron’s friend Isla Sitwell --had a darling wire-haired terrier called “Silver”. Silver was standing with his paws on my knee at tea time, begging for cake. His master, not wanting him to be fed called him, and as Master was sitting on the other side of me, Silver did not bother to go round, but took one flying leap right over my lap between me and the table! It was the neatest thing and so surprising.
Forgive me if I don’t write any more. Best love, my darling,
From Mum

P.S. We have had a joke -- Kingdon-Ward, who is just off to China, keeps on talking of a place called “Likiang”. When he says it, it sounds just like Leaky Anne, and when we laughed and said that he seemed to choose very odd places to go to, he said he thought that next time he has a female puppy, he will call her Likiang.

From HPV to Annette

Calcutta
Feb 25th 1937

My dear Annette

If I were more devout I should write only one letter per week: as it is I indulge in most distasteful vain repetitions. My chief interest is – of course it is work still: and that has not gone well. It is difficult to combine the thoughtful analysis of figures and the evolution of new schemes with the expeditious handling of masses of routine. But after or aprt from that my chief interest is Boike’s doings. Is he a quack? (probably yes – but I don’t know that that means much). Does he give precisely the same treatment to everyone? (no) or produce the same talk about everyone’s condition? (no: to me he said practically nothing wrong, but others he has told that their spines are all “mussed up”) and is the machine for measuring the condition of nerves up the spine a fake? (This in a way was the chief interest. Answer no. An electrician has told me that it is a thermopile arrangement for measuring infinitesimal variations in temperature; apparently it will detect the slightest, most imperceptible inflammation anywhere) – and gossip about good done or not done. 3 say no result, about a dozen fairly favourable, and few still under treatment. He gave me the “devil of a twist”, to the neck, yesterday: I am a bit gone in the back today but that may be due to attending two cocktail parties afterwards.

Much love
Dad

From HPV to Rosemary

Feb 25th, Calcutta

My dear Rosemary,

It brought nearer the day of our leaving for home to have your mother tell me today that details of places to which you should post would have to be sent you by airmail, today.
A scramble of a week. Movies on Saturday afternoon “Wolf’s Clothing” perhaps, a farcical thing at which we roared, nonsense. Weariness on Sunday morning, after starting to do jobs in the garden I gave it up and lay down. People to lunch and to tea. A dull and chilly afternoon, so far as weather went. Monday morning some anxiety, when the storm came up, lest your mother might be involved in it while flying to Cooch Behar, but they had turned back in time.
Dinner that night out, an ICS dinner, which went on till midnight. Two cocktail parties yesterday evening--I didn’t take any. A great deal of worry over work, constant interruptions and no good results. Three visits to Boike for back massage. He gave the quotient of cricks to my neck yesterday. I cannot say that I feel the better for it today.
It has been a grey week, weather extraordinary for Bengal. Cleared up today, thank heaven.

Much love,
Your Dad

Family letter from LJT

The Towers
Cossipore
Calcutta
Feb 25th 1937

My dears,

In a way it has been rather an exciting week. The really high spot was an attempt to fly to Cooch Behar on Monday, which was foiled by bad weather. As seems to have been the case in most parts of the world this year, India is experiencing the most extraordinary weather. At this time of year, one never thinks of taking weather conditions into account. It is permanently fine, and the season on ‘Nor Westers has not yet begun. This year, for the past two or three weeks we have been having weather almost like the monsoon. The Government House Garden Party had to be cancelled on Thursday because it began to rain at mid-day and poured steadily all the afternoon and evening. It was still cloudy and inclined to rain on Friday morning, but cleared later and stayed fine over Saturday and Sunday. Idris and I were timed to leave Dum Dum at 6.15 on Monday morning. When I woke at 4.30 a.m. I looked out and saw beautiful clear starlight. When we left the house it was still fine. At DumDum, clouds had begun to blow up from the south, but they were thin whispy ones, and we did not think they were important. We were glad to have a fairly stiff South breeze to help us on our way. It was a pretty morning up in the sky. There were clouds about catching the morning sun, and throwing shadows over the fields and the big stretch of the Salt Lakes which can all look pretty dull under the steady glare of the Indian sun. We flew North for about half an hour, making good time with the stiff breeze behind us. The further we went, the darker looked the horizon ahead, and by the time we were over Ranaghat we realized that there was a big storm bearing down on us. It was a magnificent sight. A huge cloud shaped something like a jelly fish, stretched across the whole country from East to West further than the eye could see. The top of the low flattened dome was faintly lit by the rays of the rising sun, struggling through other clouds on the Eastern horizon, which turned it to a pale grey, in places verging on dull silver. Under the frill skirts of the jellyfish everything was blue, black and full of fury. The whole was shot through with lightning, and traveling at a great rate to-wards us. The wind began to shift all over the place. Idris altered course to the East to see whether we could fly round the storm, but it was too big, so he called through the telephone that he was going to turn back, swooped round in a lovely vertical turn, and opened out full throttle for home. We came back at about 110 miles an hour, and even so the storm looked as f it were going to catch us at one time. Luckily it did’nt and we landed at Dum Dum just about 15 minutes before it arrived. It was a storm and a half when it did come too. It arrived as we were driving form Dum Dum home, and the rain poured with such fury over the wind screen, that we could not see and had to crawl along in low gear. It would not have been a bit nice in an open plane. It lasted pretty badly for an hour, and the whole day continued wet and stormy. We are hoping to carry out our programme for this flight the week-end after next. I could not go this week-end, as Lady Baden Powell will be here, and I have a lot of Guide shows on.

Kingdon-Ward arrived on Friday morning. I thought he was looking very well. We had lots to talk about. His plans are to go into Yunnan and make his way to a range of high mountains which he saw in the distance years ago, and has always wanted to explore. How long he stays out seems to depend on 1) How much he finds of interest, and 2) how well his money lasts. He may be back in six months. He may stay away two years. We got hold of G.B. Gourlay on the phone, and asked him to meet, Idris and myself for lunch at the Great Eastern Hotel at 1 o’clock. There were great talks of course, of exploring and climbing. After lunch we did the usual round of the explorer, i.e. to the Survey Office, both the map making side and the Mathematical Instrument Office, and then to the Asiatic Society where I left him with Mr van Manen, while I slipped over to do a little Himalayan Club work at the Geological Survey Office. We came home about five o’clock to a quiet tea in the garden, and later in the evening we went to dine with Dr Heron, at the United Service Club where there was what is called a “Ladies Night”, when the main club is thrown open to the female sex. People have dinner-parties, and then there is dancing in the lawn house, Billiards, roulette, and bridge. I spent most of the evening dancing and talking, and finally we gathered in the bar, and sat round drinking beer or tea (my bright idea!) and singing songs from the old Scottish Student’s song book. The singing was’nt very good, but it was a merry finish to a pleasant evening.

Sunday was a quietish day. Idris took K W flying in the afternoon, while we stayed at home and had the Cooke’s to tea. Monday started with the flying adventure, and by 9 o’clock, when we had returned and had a second breakfast, we felt that it must be almost lunch time. It was the festival of the Bakr Id, so it and the following day were holidays. Idris and K-W went off to lunch with van Manen in Calcutta, I stayed out here and did a lot of work. Later in the day they telephoned to say that van Manen invited us all to a dance that night at the Swiss Club. It was a good show and very interesting. I had often heard of the Swiss Club, but had never been to it. There are about seventy members, less than half of whom are Swiss, and the rest are all nationalities. There is a charming friendly atmosphere about the place. There were an awfully nice Belgian couple in our party, whom I found most interesting, and whom I should like to meet again. We did not get home till nearly half-past two, by which time Idris and I had been awake for 22 hours! I actually did not want to wake up when the bearer brought my tea at 6.30, and did go to sleep again for an hour.

I am getting rather tired of this recital, and I am sure you are too, so I think I will let the rest of our doings fade into oblivion, which is all such things as cocktail parties and such deserve, even though the party last night was a farewell to G.B. Gourlay and his wife. There is great sorrow in Calcutta at their going. I told GB last night that I could not imagine Calcutta without him, and he says he cant imagine himself without Calcutta.

Kingdon Ward gives his lecture on Himalayan Flowers to the Himalayan Club to-night. We are not having a dinner first, but he and I are dining with Percy Brown.

Only four weeks my dears, now, before we sail – It’s a wonderful feeling to be coming home.

Best love to you all
LJT