1939 November
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
November 1st ‘39
My Dears,
Sad though it was to leave Darjeeling, with its cold air and splendid views, it is nice to be back in this house, of which I am so fond, and to see the garden again, at a time which is so important for the cold weather flowers. The weather is comparatively pleasant now, and one begins to wonder whether it is necessary to turn on a fan. Although it is nearly lunch time, I am sitting without one now. There have been late and unusually heavy rains, but the mali has managed to preserve most of our seedlings from damage. We have lost a good many young carnations, I am sorry to say, but otherwise the your plants look flourishing.
Herbert is much stronger than when he went away. I should like to feel that he is still more robust, but I hope a few more weeks of careful feeding will make him perfectly normal again. He found it an effort to start work again on the first day, but has got back into the routine now.
The weather during our last few days in Darjeeling, was lovely. The Snows were showing all day and each evening we watched a supurb sunset, with the snow peaks turning to rosy pink and flame. It was getting really cold at nights and in the early morning, but the sun was delicious during the day.
On the day following the posting of my last letter, we lunched with Sir Bijoy Singh Roy, one of the Ministers in the present Bengal Government, who was also in the previous Government, and whose Secretary Herbert used to be in the Local Self-Government Dept. It was a small party to meet the Governor, and oddly enough I was the only lady. After lunch Sir Bijoy asked me if I would go up to see his wife, who is extremely orthodox and strictly purdah. It was a somewhat difficult visit, as neither she nor her two big daughters speak either English or Hindi, and my Bengali is strictly limited. We got along somehow for a quarter of an hour, when I said that I must not keep Herbert waiting any longer, and made my adieus. Sir Bijoy is making some concessions to modern opinion, for his two elder daughters, aged seventeen and fifteen, are not yet married, and his small seven year old daughter is going to school in Calcutta. During the last few days in the Hills, Herbert and I went out walking most mornings and afternoons, and I wished he could have had one more week up there in the fine weather, so that he could have made up the ground lost when he got a chill half way through the visit.
I went to a couple of Cocktail parties, and had an interesting visit to my old friend Milly Chaudhuri one morning. We talked politics part of the time. She seems to agree with Mr Ghandi that many of the Congress troubles come from faults in its own mentality and attitude. I said that many people think that, had the decent moderate Hindus come forward to take office, and help in the government, instead of leaving the choice between Congress and the Mohammadens of not too good reputation, it would have been much better for the country. She agreed rather bitterly, and said she had been saying the same thing to her husband only the previous evening. His reply had been that politics are such a dirty game out here that he did not see how decent people could touch them. Votes and support are purchased either by cash or favours or by making specific promises, which later cannot be carried out, Democracy certainly seems sadly unsuited to India in it present state of development, but I don’t know what proposals it is possible to put forward. We seem to be completely committed to Democratic ideals, and the Indian leaders have adopted them too, publicly, though with a few exceptions, they privately only believe in them as far as their own community is concerned. The feeling between Mohammaden and Hindu is proverbial, and they both look down with scorn and despision on the representatives of the Scheduled Classes (The old Untouchables) There has been terrific mirth in Bengal this year because the little “untouchable” minister, he is about five foot tall and has a round pudgy-featured common-looking face, has burst out in a grey morning-coat and tall hat. he was the only person wearing such attire at the Government House garden party in Darjeeling. What is going to happen about Congress and the War, I know no more than you do. The meeting between the Viceroy, the Mahatma, Dr Prasad (President of the Congress) and Mr Jinnah (President of the Moslem League) is taking place at this very moment. I wonder whether we shall hear any news of what points of contact they have been able to make, this evening. Subash Bose has been blowing off a lot of hot air, but I don’t believe he has much of a following outside Bengal.
In spite of the fact that we travelled from Darjeeling at the end of the pujas, when there were great crowds travelling, we had a comfortable journey. I had reserved a coupe for the two of us, in good time. Wendy, the dachsie who is staying with us, is an excellent traveller, and settled down on the end of my bunk, and slept quietly all night. Maxie had some bedding on the chair at the end of the bunk, and though he did not display such fear as he did going up, I don’t believe he slept at all. He would stand up with his front paws on the arm of the chair, and his face pressed against the venetian shutter, which was closed. Twice during the night, I switched my torch on, and he was always in the same position. He was happier when we all got up in theearly morning, but he must have been very tired, for when we got back here, he lay down on the floor of my dressing-room, and slept till lunch time, without moving, whereas he usually patters after me when-ever I move from one room to another –
It was found that so many people were going to be away for the puja holidays, that it was decided to stop the First Aid Lectures for three weeks and start again on Nov 7th. I am rather glad, for it means I have only missed two, and can pick up much more easily. I have just been sending out the notices about the Lectures starting again.
There has been a bust up in the Compound while we have been away. The Driver imported a lady-friend into the Compound, and installed her in a vacant servant’s quarter, cheek by jowl with the wives of Mogul, the Pani-waller, and the mali. Mogul and the others, all objected, Mogul both on his own and his family’s behalf and because he had been left in charge during my absence. He went to the Confidential clerk about it, but Profulla Babu wisely said it was best not to worry us when we were in Darjeeling, as it would be impossible for us to deal with it, and advised Mogul to wait till we came back. Profulla Babu and I had every servant and chapprassi up, and took down their stories, with the result that I have had to dismiss the Driver, who has been with about eight years, and also the under khitmatgar who has only been with us for a year or less, and whom I have never much liked. The driver is really a fool, for it is hard to get good jobs now, and in our service he was well looked after, and since we came here has had very light work. In fact I fear it may be a case of “Satan findeth evil work for idle hands to do”. - - The young khitmatgar had a fight with the head mali, and split his head open, and according to accounts, if the shouts from the wife of one of the chapprassis had not brought the dhobi and the two sweepers to the malis assistance, he might have been killed. They dramatically act how Rajan had the mali, who is a very small man, by the throat, and had squeezed it till his eyes were almost dropping out of his head, while the blood was pouring from the wound on his crown. It must indeed have been a great excitement for the various wives peeping from behind their screens!
Mogul had a romantic incident in his past, long years ago in Contai, but he married the lady, though she was a Hindu dancing girl, and has turned her into the strictest Purdah nashin. She is living in this compound now, and I sometimes wonder if she finds life very dull compared with what she knew in your youth. Their daughter, now aged about fourteen, had grown into a very pretty girl, and though lately she is no longer allowed to run loose in the compound, she always draws aside the curtain in front of their door, to say good.morning to me when I pass on my rounds of the estate. They had one son, but it died soon after birth, and they have had no other. They now want to adopt one, and the hospital are watching out for one.
Best love
LJT
From LJT to Annette
(A letter from Dad is sent via Aunt)
Chinsurah
Bengal
Nov 2nd 1939
My darling Annette,
Richard is complimentary about you in his letter. he says “Annette departed for Oxford, looking pretty in her blue suit and hat”. Surely high praise from a brother? Romey mentions meeting you at tea, but made no comment on your apparant health, spirits or looks, so I take it that you preserve the normal tenor of your way.
Dad is making a slight concession in listening to the wireless occasionally. For the last three nights, he has stayed to listen to the news at 9.54 p.m. and last night he seemed to take some slight pleasure in rather a nice concert broadcast by the B.B.C. Amongst other things they played a suite of different national dances by Rimski Koroskov (Wrongly spelt, I fancy?) which included an Armenian Dance. The music was jolly, and gave the impression of a good deal of prancing and hopping. We amused ourselves with thinking of the Armenians we know taking part in it. There was an ancient man called Aratoon, whose head was like an old ivory billard-ball, buried for some time in a dung-heap (Dad added). There were a couple of stout and rather seedy looking long-nosed hotel keepers, and two brothers who used to be up on the coal fields, Agabeg by name, the one tall and dark and sinister, with a flashing diamond ring, and a reputation of being the best liar in a district not famed for its probity. The thought of all these bounding and skipping to-gether, pleased Dad greatly. It will be interesting if Dad develops some liking for music from hearing some good stuff on the wireless. Berlin comes through to India beautifully at almost all times of day, and I have enjoyed much music from there, with a slightly apologetic feeling, that I should not be getting pleasure from an enemy country.
Will you be able to gather from any of your friends who went up for the Civil Service exam last summer, what the papers were like, and what subjects it would pay you best to swat up, if you do decide to have a shot for it in 1941. Herbert and some of his friends discussing the exam as it was in their day, were saying that there were certain “easy” subjects that brought in a lot of marks. Geography was one that was mentioned, but of course that was all so long ago that the whole system may have changed. Thinking of the Civil Service made me think of John Christie, and of Peggy. What is she doing? Aunt tells me that Uncle Bous wont let Pam and Betty join up in the A.T.S or W.R.E.N.S. It seems a pity to me. I should have thought it would have been so good for those girls to mix a bit more with all and sundry, do some hard work, and put up with some hard living. I cant imagine myself objecting to your joining any branch of national work that you chose, if you were doing nothing, and wished to help, but then I never have believed in too much guarding of the young once they have become reasonably mature. I confess I am a little surprised that the girls do not insist. Their father would surely give way if they showed real detirmination.
Aunt tells me she has had rather a miserable letter from Mrs Petrie and that she wont be able to have Romey for the half term exeat. She says that you may possibly be able to have her at Sommerville. It would be awfully nice of you if you could. I hope she will be able to manage either that, or to go to Joey. Its odd how Mrs Petrie seems to attract trouble. The Carey Morgans have a couple of Refugee Servants and find them quite good and likeable though they had not very much idea of the niceties of how things should be done to begin with. By the way some neighbours of the Carey Morgans, who also used to be in Calcutta, like their evacuated children and find them most amusing. Its nice to hear of someone who is pleased, for one hears so much of complaints about them.
You have heard, I suppose, of Jean Hogg’s wedding. She has married a Calcutta man, so I suppose she will be coming out here. There was a very nice informal picture of her and her bridegroom outside the church, in yesterday’s Statesman.
In the letter going by Sea mail, I am sending an account of the new Dalai Lama’s arrival in Lhasa, which I thought might interest some of you. I heard a good deal about it from Tibetan Friends in Darjeeling and what they said agrees with this account.
Best love and bless you
Mother
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
Nov 9th 1939
My darling Annette,
Thank you much for the letter written on the night of your birthday. I am glad you were able to have a little party, and it was nice of you to have Romey out to share it. You have been lucky not to have been more greatly disturbed by the war, and, think your new room sounds rather nice. You are fortunate not to have been sent over to L.M.H. The small difficulties you speak of such as no lights in the corridors and blue lights in the bathrooms are after all, minor inconveniences, and ones from which you used to suffer more or less permanently at St Monica’s deleted Highways (That’s funny! I let my mind wander for a moment, thinking what a thousand pities it is that Hitler had left the beer cellar in Munich before the bomb went off, and my fingers wrote the wrong words!) St Monica’s has more or less disappeared, Cyril Gurner tells me. They thought they had fixed up for a big house in the country, but at the last moment it was snapped up by Government. For details see my letter to Romey. Cap and the governors must be pretty mad! I hope they wont stop paying you your scholarship money. Tell us if they do.
Have you heard anything of what Madame Blok is doing? I have thought of her several times. I suppose no one will be sending girls to Paris now. It will be hard on her, unless she gets other work or makes some different arrangement. M. Menard says he gets contradictory orders from his Government every few days. First he was told to hold himself in readiness to go back to the regiment with which he did his training in French Indo-China, probably at the beginning of December. now he is told that he is not to go there, but positively will be called to train at Pondicherry during the next few weeks. With a shrug of his shoulder he says “Now I resign myself to spending the next three years at Chandernagore!”. Its odd how we all tend to run down our own Governments. He seems to have just the same sort of friendly disdain for the doings of the French Government, as we have for ours.
When first I started useing this typewriter this morning, it was awful! For some time I have been useing one that Dad had had from Government when he was in the Local Self Government Dept. He left a note to say he still had it and would return it if they needed it, and they have just called it in. I have put a few drops of oil into this machine here and there, and rubbed all the places I can get at with a slightly oily tooth brush, and polished up with some clean rag, and it seems to have had some good effect, in spite of the fact that all type-writer instructions warn one not to attempt oiling and cleaning oneself. just at the end of the last paragraph, as you see, the paper did not move through far enough, but that may be partly due to the fact that the rollers have got hard like stones. I shall have to buy a new machine sometime, but I had hoped to make this one or the Government one last till we came home in the Spring. Now, who knows? perhaps with a little coaxing this one will go on a while yet. I have to re-learn its little tricks, which I had forgotten.
Charles Crawford’s account of him voyage out in the big convoy, in which he travelled on a North Atlantic Liner, was interesting. He says he thinks it was the most uncomfortable three weeks he has ever spent in his life, for the heat was really frightful in this boat built to keep out the cold, and there was, of course, a good deal of tension, since no-one knew how many submarines were about or where. luckily he found Peter Oliver of the 1933 and 1936 Everest Expeditions, whom I have always thought a most delightful person, and Miles Smeeton, husband of the adventurous lady, about whom I told you in earlier letters this year. Him I do not know, but Charles says he is a dear. They are all mountineers, and when life became too tedius and trying they retired into some quiet corner and climbed mountains in imagination to-gether. Charles, by the way, was staying at the Climbers’ Hut, Helig, this summer, and doing all those buttress climbs. He talked with the Williams family about us. The Gurner family were spending a more sophisticated holiday at Criccith, but they motored round about our Country, and Cyril was happy for at least half an hour with the North Wales map on Sunday. Amongst other climbs Charles did the Great Gully behind that meck which joins Carnedd Llwewlyn to Helgi-dhu. Do you remember how we peered over to see where the climb would be likely to be?
I’m sorry to think of the cold, dark, wet weather in Europe, when its getting so lovely here, but I suppose the rain and cold are much less inconvenience to the men in the Maginot Line that to those in the Seigfried Line, so in some round about way, perhaps it is to the Allies advantage.
Must do the letters up for post now. Greetings to Anne and Christine, and also to Gavin when next you see him
Best love
Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
Nov 9th 1939.
My dears,
Following the posting of my last letter to you, I spent two delightful days in Calcutta, staying the interveneing night at Cossipore. My main object ingoing to Calcutta was to see the Percy Browns, who have recently arrived back from England. Also I had shopping to do, and wanted to see the Himalayan Club clerk, and find out what had been going on in my absence.
This time of year is always nice in Calcutta, for not only is the weather pleasant, but many friends who have been home on leave arrive back again and there is the pleasure of meeting them and hearing home news. I had a busy morning in the shops and the office, and on the telephone, for I use the phone very little from here. Also I interviewed a possible driver, and arranged for him to come out for a trial to Chinsurah. It was nice seeing the Percy Browns again, though I confess I always find him much better value when his wife is not there. She is of a somewhat plodding sort of mind and extremely high souled, so that P.B.’s very well developed sense of the absurd, and enjoyment of the humourous side of things, is a bit cramped by the proximity of his partner. He prophecies a fine crop of hay from the sandbags in London, and declares that they were sprouting well when he left home! After lunch I went to see Anina Brandt, and took her out shopping with me. She is carrying on with her lessons, and has heard nothing from her people in Germany. She had to go home to be ready for a pupil at 4.30, and I to have tea with Mrs Stanley (whom you may remember as head of the S.P.C.A. out here and one time head of the women police in London) She is always an interesting talker, and had some amusing tales of wild rumours in Kashmir, where she has been spending a brief holiday. It seems that there is great alarm about the Russians, who, so the peasants and shop-keepers think, may pour down over the Himalayas at any moment. There was also a good deal of talk about a plot by some ex-followers of Amanullah, one time king of Afganistan, backed by Russian and German influence, to oust the present government of Afganistan and re-establish Anullah or some other, to rule under the protection of Russia and Germany. Actually there is an article in the paper to-day about this plot, which did actually exist to a certain extent, but which has apparantly collapsed, one of the leaders flying to British India and giving himself up.
My next engagement was a visit to Reggie Cooke and his wife, and later Idris Matthews and I dined with Anina Brandt on her roof terrace, and then went on to the Cineam to see “Within the Law”, which we enjoyed only moderately. We went into Firpo’s for a drink after the show, not realizing that it was Hallow’Ene, and presently masses of Scotch Bodies from the Hallow ‘Ene Concert, came in. The large proportion of them were the typical “jute-Wallahs”, - - stout and red-faced with equally stout wives, all of them wearing evening dress, but none of them looking quite as if they were accustomed to it. There was a great deal of heartiness and greetings, and many people dancing who gave the impression that this is the one occasion of the year when they set foot on a ball-room floor.
We got back to Cossipore about 1.30 a.m. and got up again at 6 a.m. to go flying. It was simply ages since I had been in the air, and I loved being up again. As soon as we were up, Idris told me to take the stick. For the moment I felt as if I had forgotten all that he had taught me before, but the feel of it soon came back. We flew up the River and circled round this house. Regulations are strict now, and we could not swoop down and salute, as we used to do, for one is not allowed to fly below 500 feet or above 1500 feet. When we got back to Dum Dum we met Mr Kemp, the top man of Imperial Airways out here, and he invited us into his office and gave us delicious hot coffee. I enjoyed being back where “flying” talk was going on. I used to hear a lot when we lived at Cossipore, but it is difficult to fit in the time for going to Dum Dum from here. On the wall of the office was a splendid new map of India and the surrounding countries, so well drawn and shaded that the mountains seemed to stand out. All the areodromes, both military, civil and emergency, were marked. The surprising thing to me, is that there are so few. India seems slow to realize the value of the air. One would have thught that all the Princes of any standing would have had their own planes and landing-grounds, but comparatively few have, I gather. On our back to Cossipore we inspected a big place where the Ordanance are putting up a great many more quarters for work-men and overseers, since they are expanding the Factory. This was in the nature of Work for Idris, and I was interested to see the plans and how existing buildings are to be utilized if possible. All this made us a bit late having breakfast, though it seemed more like 10.30 than 9.30 when we sat down, for we had done and seen so much since we got up.
Before lunching at the Saturday Club with Charles Crawford, I had more shopping to do, and went to the Market to buy fruit and vegetables. One always seems to get better fruit by going ones-self. I also had the job which I find difficult, of chooseing books for Herbert from the U.S. Club Library. E enjoyed seeing Charles Crawford again. He was recalled in that first big convoy, as I.C.I said his is a key job (He is one of the Chemical Experts) and that they must have him back. He only had twenty-four notice to get his things to-gether and be in Edinburgh, and did not even have time to rush to Wales to say good-bye to his people who were holiday-making there. We sat talking a long while over our lunch, and then I went to fetch Anina Brandt, whom I brought out here for the week-end. I had heard that Cyril Gurner was back, so rang him up, and he came for the week-end too. He is a great friend of Anina’s so it made a nice little party. We had tea in the garden and sat out till almost dinner-time, it was so lovely by the river-side, under the stars.
Cyril is a bit of an archaeologist, so we did quite a bit of sight-seeing on Sunday, both in the morning and the afternoon, and came back for a late tea, at which we were joined by the Administrator of Chandernagore and his wife. They were in good form and kept us well amused. Mr. Menard assured us that in India we scarcely know what cockroaches are. To meet them at their most flourishing we should have to go to West Africa. There he says they are fine. There are two distinct sorts, the grey, wrinckled scholars who live amongst books and papers, and the fine fat shining brown ones who are the cooks and live in the kitchens. Every week he used to organize a Chasse. He says he would gather all the domestics and he, himself would blow the horn - - (This was all in French) and he acted the blowing and mimicked the noise of a hunting horn. He has at time a delightful sense of the absurd. Cyril is fond of French people and much enjoyed their company.
The bearer retired to his quarters with influenza on Saturday, and on Tuesday the under Khitmatgar was taken suddenly ill and had to go into hospital for a slight operation. The masalchi was also off work with a bad attack of opthalmia, and the lad who was deputising for him, was quite untrained, so we were very short handed in the house. I was just about to allow the fourteen year old son of the head chapprassi to come into the house to be trained as a servant, and was waiting for some white coats to be made for him. However his father managed to dress him up in a clean white shirt and dhoti, and a little red fez, in which he looks clean and tidy, and he was quite a help to Mogul and myself, as he is an intelligent lad, and having been born and brought up in this compound, he is not at all shy of Europeans. Bhim Das is back on duty to-day, I am glad to say, and says he feels pretty well again. I party from the old driver yesterday, and the new man takes charge to-morrow. The one from Calcutta was a poor driver and no use. This man’s home is here, and he seems very good. I hope he will be a success. All these domestic matters have taken up a lot of time. I still have to fill the place of the under khit’, but have rejected two lads whose looks and manners I did not care about, as Mogul agrees with me that it is much better to wait a little and get a man whom we like. And here’s the end of the paper, so best love
Family letter from HPV (carbon, ‘Annette’ hand written in ink)
Chinsurah.
Nov. 14th 1939
My dear Annette
For some time past I have had it on my mind that I omitted to recount to you a “Message of Loyalty on the Outbreak of the War” that was sent to me by one A. N. Mazumdar of Bally. It runs thus
“Sir,
To all death is Common
But He is above all and not a common one
So un-common he must be
Look look, my Hon Sir, Who is He and What is He
He is not dead but crowned in Heaven
On 20th January 1936 at 11.55 p.m.
Let us offer our solemn prayers to Him
The British Flag will remain as it is and command
Highest respect in and after this Wartime
I have the honour to be
Sir
Your most obedient servant
A. N. Mazumdar.
It may strike you that I am not typing with my wonted ease; and I admit the truth of the suspicion. During past years I have retained a portable Remington that was the property of the L.S.G. Department, because it was a spare, purchased years ago for a Special Officer and left lying about when his work was done. I used it for typing out drafts of bills and such-like when I was doing the Rural Development job and I brought it here on the off-chance that it would come in useful for the Forest Committee report. Which it did not, though I have used it for other jobs. Two or three days ago the L.S.G. Department remembered that it existed and demanded its return. So here I am trying to make something of your mother’s typewriter and failing: the ribbon jams and the spacing seems to catch every now and then. On the credit side my health is improving. I have had only one day’s stomach ache since my return; real stomach ache. There is a spate of holidays just now. Two Hindu/Sunday/three Muhammadan/two working days/holiday for new Governor/Sunday. Let us say three working days. This machine defeats me; I have to push the ribbon into place by hand every few minutes.
November 15th: in fact next day. The typewriter annoyed me beyond continuance. But it was not altogether to be blamed; when the ribbon got snagged up and I pulled it back into place it was the wrong place. The news No, it is not the typewriter’s fault: it would be less annoying if it were. The news is that I sat down to write a Birthday letter to Rosemary in Darjeeling three weeks ago and then thought that it would be silly to send such greetings perhaps a month early; so I ended by sending none. Which means as I believe that none of the family has had such this year maybe and it would be a grief to me if that spoilt their pleasure in their advance down time --- as the movies say. Dash this machine: I believe that after all the ribbon moves only once in so many times or even less.
(handwritten addition)
Later
It was not despair but a visitor that cut me short. And suddenly today your mother says that the letters must go off now. So much love. I have scrawled something for the others but not for you. No time.
Your Dad
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
November 16th 1939
My Dears,
The weeks seem to fill themselves with all sorts of things to keep one busy. There is always a good deal of writing connected with the Himalayan Club, to be done at this time of year, and any spare moments that can be spared from other things, can well be spent in the garden, where there are endless jobs to be done. There have been a great many holidays lately. Friday last was the Diwali, the prettiest of all the Hindu pujas. On Diwali night, every-one who can afford it, puts little lamps all about his house, and lets off fire-works. It is a popular festival, not only in Bengal, but also celebrated with great vigour by the Bihar people, consequently the armed police, who are mostly recruited from Bihar, make it a great occasion. We were asked to attend the celebrations in the Armed Police Lines, but as Walter Jenkins was coming up to stay with us, I did not accept. Herbert went, and seems to have spent a merry evening talking to the Ménards. Walter came up after lunch, and we had a leisurely tea in the garden, and then a short walk round about. When dark came we went up on to the roof to see what we could of the decorations and fireworks. Across the River, lots of the Jute Mills had their roofs outlined with the tiny oil lamps, and every now and again a few of the same sort of lamps went sailing down the river. They consist of a small earthern-ware container, somewhat resembling in shape the Greek lamp, but open at the top, A cotton wick is laid in the spout at one end, and gives a pretty flickering light. As a decoration they knock spots off electric light for beauty, but in wet or windy weather they would be useless. The police barracks were screened from us by high trees, but were so brightly lit that we thought we would walk across and look at them. Its a nice old building, being the old Dutch barracks. The dignified proportions, and groups of columns, looked very well illuminated. Fireworks were being let off in front of the company assembled in front of the building, but Walter and I did not go in, but just looked across from the maidan.
Next day we all went down to Calcutta, as Herbert had had a slight ache in his jaw and thought it wise to see a dentist. Our new driver was in charge of the car, and seems to be efficient. We discovered that there is rather a bad “slip” in the top gear, which may partly explain the rather high petrol consumption we have had lately. I took the car to the French Motor Car Co, and they said it would take a day to open out the gears (we have the automatic gear-change) so I arranged to send it in on another day, and it went yesterday, but sad to say they phoned to say that the adjustments were proving difficult and that they would have to open out the whole gear box, which would mean at least another day’s work. We lunched with Walter at the Saturday Club, and then went to see a silly film, called “I’d give a Million”, which we found rather amusing. After tea at the U.S. Club, we came home in time for dinner. it was so long since Herbert had been in Calcutta for a day, that I was anxious to see whether he would be very tired, but to my relief, he was not, or only very moderately so.
For a wonder we had no guests here on Sunday, but went down after tea to see the Doctor and His wife at the Angus Jute Mills, and inspect their new baby. I was also pleased to find Herbert willing to come on this outing, for for months before we went to Darjeeling, he avoided all going out, of however mild a nature. There was great excitement on Sunday evening, for it was the end of the great Mohammaden feast of Ramzan, and whether the celebrations of the Id took place on Monday depended on whether the moon was visible on Sunday night. Seeing Mogul and the little chokra in the garden watching for it, I advised them to go on to the roof, and presently the Chokra’s excited voice called down to me, that they had seen the moon. A few minutes later there was a great noise of gongs beating from the Imambara and syrens from some place or other, announcing the happy news. The dogs disliked the noises and lifted up their long noses and wailed loudly, much to the servants amusement. It was nice for the Mohammaden servants that we were going to Calcutta again on Monday, for it left them free to do their great praying, and then attend the feast, and go about greeting and embracing all their friends. Our new Driver is a Hindu, so it did not inconvenience him, to be on duty. There are always two Government holidays in honour of the Id, for it is never possible to say in advance, on which day the moon will be seen, but our Mohammaden Ministry declared a third holiday, for they say the Hindus have far more Hindu feasts than they do. This is true, but all the same when there is a Hindu holiday, the Mohammadens get the benefit! Next Saturday is a holiday in honour of the arrival of the new Governor, and Monday and Tuesday or two more Hindu Pujas and therefore holidays. The number of holidays out here are really ludicrous. The result is that it is difficult for people to get ordinary leave for a fortnight’s holiday as most people do in England. It seems more important to the Hindus to get these occasional days or groups of days, on which to do honour to their gods and goddesses. Herbert had to go to his dentist again on Monday, for though there was no major trouble, there were several little repairs needed, and they could not be finished on Saturday. I had plenty to do in shops, meantime, and lunched with one of my American friends, who has a German-American wife, whom I like very much. I kept off the subject of the war, as I do not know what her feelings are, but I confess I was curious to know. Again we went to a cinema in the afternoon, but it was oh so bad! “The Cat and the Canary”. Everyone behaved like complete idiots. My evening was taken up by a Himalayan Club Committee meeting, and later Herbert and I took T.B.Jameson, the Judge from Darjeeling, who is the Club’s Hony Secretary up there, to a “Grill” at the Saturday Club. Herbert was a little tired, but not badly so, even staying down in Calcutta for dinner. The First Aid Classes continue on Tuesday afternoons, and yesterday I had to preside at the Annual Meeting of what is known as “The Junior Sports Association”, and unveil a portrait of a gent’ who helped the association in its early days. It was not a bad little ceremony. First a few selected persons had tea in a little sort of garden-yard, and then we had the inevitable songs by small girls, followed by the Secretary’s Report, and some more music (Rather a good musician playing the Sitar) At last the great moment came when I had to press a button, and lo! the rather shabby red plush curtains duly parted (I had been doubtful if the arrangement would work) and the photograph of the stout babu gentleman was revealed, wreathed in pink roses and marigolds. The small girls advanced and tucked bunches of tube roses in on either side of the portrait, while everyone clapped (So sorry about this tear. I don’t know how it caught)
One of the gentlemen present sprang to his feet and made a voluable speech in Bengali in praise of the late deceased. Next I said a few words, and after a frightful farewell song by the two small girls, we departed in an atmosphere of great good will. The Bengalis adore these sort of shows. Dwelling on the merits of departed neighbours, however much they disliked them during their lifetime, seems to make them feel very good. I don’t suppose my practical advice about making the children each pay a subscription however small, instead of relying on Government grants which they might not get, gave them half such a glow inside! I did remember to bring the deceased gentleman into my speech, though, which I was afraid I might forget.
Most times it seems so peaceful in this garden by the river that its hard to realize that there is a war going on. One is always anxious for the news, and I am glad to have the wireless, for I feel the things we hear from the B.B.C. are more likely to be reliable than the newspaper reports. Some of the talks are interesting too. Winston’s speech came over the air very well.
My household is complete again now. A nice young bearer appeared on Sunday, who seems to be just what I want, and the new little boy is learning his work well.
Best love to you all. Christmas cards are going to be difficult this year. I think I shall not send any, but give an extra gift for the troops.
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
November 16th 1939.
My darling Annette,
Its nice to hear that you had things you wanted to buy immediately with our birthday present. There is a nicer feel about having things you like or want, rather than just putting the money away in the bank. I always enjoy spending Uncle Bous’ generous Xmas and birthday presents. This year I had two lovely pápier mâché boxes made, which will hold my little toilet things, which normally are scattered about on a dressing table, and also any bottles needed for the toilet. Romey seems to have enjoyed your birthday party very much. It is her birthday to-morrow, bless her! I always remember the day before she was born so vividly. I walked along the Calcutta Road in Darjeeling to just beyond the first mile stone, a place where there are a lot of “Christmas Tree” first up the mountain-side, and where I used to take you for picnics when you were little. It was marvellous weather and the snows were brilliant and clear. The nurse had arrived that morning from Calcutta and I had told her that Rosemary would arrive the next morning, which amused her very much, but in which I proved to be right! I am interested to hear about your Recorder. I have never seen or heard of one. I wish I had had something to help train my ear when I was young. I don’t know about ear and sounds. I can so often hear or remember sounds in my head, but when I try to produce them they come out wrong. Its possible that the hatred I had for being made to play the piano when I was about six, by Auntie Do, may have something to do with it. Its rather late in the day to mend the trouble now! Perhaps in my next incarnation I’ll do better in that line! I’ve not seen the Oxford book of Modern verse. I shall be interested to do so when we are next home. The original Oxford Book of Verse and the Oxford B. of Victorian V. are both excellent things to have in the house. Its good of you to make arrangements, and seemingly such nice ones for Romey’s exeat. You will ask Aunt for the money it costs you, wont you? I am grateful to you for doing what I cannot. It must be very queer going about in the unlit streets after dark. I had not thought about the comparasion with a mediaeval town before. I suppose Oxford’s buildings enhance that idea. The German news that Magdelen Tower had been blown up, had not reached us here! Its comforting to know that to the outward eye, at any rate, it still stands as it did.
Aunt seems a bit worried about Gavin. It seems that H.D. has given her the impression that his views will tell so heavily against Gavin when he wants to get a job. I wonder whether that is true. If he is able to carry on at Oxford and take a degree, I don’t see why his views should be a handicap in getting into the Civil Service. I can understand educational authorities, not thinking it wise to take on a Pacifist as a teacher or lecturer. In spite of trying to avoid wishful thinking, it seems to me that Germany is in a most uncomfortable position, and I don’t see how they are going to carry on for a great length of time. Things must be so dreadfully uncomfortable inside Germany, with all sorts of people of varying views, only waiting the opportunity to spring up against Nazism, plus the shortage of food and so on. To go back to the subject of Pacifism, I imagine, even in Oxford there must be a certain strain in sticking to the view, in the fact of the National emergency, though, as you say, probably less so than in most other places. I think the more broad-minded and understanding amongst men in positions where they have to exercise judgement, will surely realize that there is more good stuff in a lad who has the idealism to stick to what he believes a great principal in the face of difficulties, than the opposite type who is willing to rush into war on the slightest provocation, without giving heed to the reasons for the fighting. Anyhow I hope H.D.’s gloomy prognostications wont turn out to be right. Gavin has far too good brains and abilities to be a failure in life, I feel sure. The worst of having a wireless in the house is that it takes away more of the all too brief time I used to have for reading, but I do enjoy hearing some music, and some of the talks are worth listening to. Its, after all, no good regretting that one cannot pack more into ones life, than there is time for. The lucky thing is to have so much to pack! I hope you wont be molested by the “Bogey Men”. You and Anne, (for instance) would, I feel, be a good handful both physically and mentally, for any hopeful wonderer. You had better get someone to teach you the ju-jitsu trick of catching a person’s hand and twisting the arm so that if they move, the arm breaks. I don’t think its difficult to do, and needs no special strength, but great quickness. I don’t suppose you feel any great fears to you?
Best love
Mother
Tell me the dates when you return to Highways and when you expect to go back to Oxford.
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
Nov 23rd 1939.
My darling Annette,
Your letters from Oxford make amusing reading. I am keeping those written since the outbreak of War, for the time being anyway, for it may interest you, and others, to read them a few years hence, if I manage to keep them so long! I read bits of your letters to Walter Jenkins, so that he could compare them with what he had heard from his daughter Catherine, from Cambridge. The impressions of life at the varsities is very much the same, though Girton have Bedford College as guests.
We were greatly amused, and also pleased, to hear that Richard has begun learning German from the gramaphone records. Whether he will find suitable phrases with which to address the Commander of a U boat, when he, Richard, is found floating on the sea in the rubber boat, after a plane crash, which is the reason he gives for learning German, I don’t know. Possibly a little tuition from you would be most useful! Dad is delighted at the thought that you are meeting M. Berthou in the flesh. How well we know the sound of his voice. I wonder whether he really sounds like himself on the gramaphone. I wish I could get hold of some French language classes on the Radio, but Paris is not good. The Paris Mondal station is not powerful enough to be picked up with really good reception on a five valve set here. Berlin, on the other hand, might be in the next room.
Have you come across an absurd book of poems called “I’m a Stranger Here Myself” by Ogden Nash? It has some witty and amusing stuff in it, and some good digs at Britain. Nash is an American it seems, though the copy of the book we have was published by Victor Gollenz. Dad has been reading scraps aloud to me with evident relish, the last few evenings. I have discovered that the stout Babu who is Dad’s Confidential Clerk has a passion for English Detective novels. A coupld of little paper ones had been packed in Dad’s office box, when we came from Darjeeling. I saw a glint in Profulla Babu’s eye, when he saw them, so I enquired whether he liked such stuff. He replied that he found it very interesting, so I told him to borrow the books, and come and change them for other, when these were finished. He is working through our small stock of such literature, steadily, and unless Dad goes for another railway journey soon, there will soon be nothing left for Profulla to read. If his sole reading about England is confined to detective fiction, I wonder what sort of a vision he has of life in the British Isles.
I was listening to the news from Rome last night, and it seemed to me that they gave a straight forward and balanced rendering of it. I have just now listened for a few minutes to Berlin. Someone was talking in English about the question of the German mines in the North sea, saying that it is obvious that they are British. Somehow the Germans have set up such a belief in our minds about their ability as liars, that it is difficult to pay attention to anything they say, even when it bears some semblance to truth. I wonder how Hitler thinks the rest of the world regards him. One rather gets the impression that he has shut himself into a sphere of his own, and does not look beyond it.
How are you doing for lecturers in German at Oxford now? I suppose there is a stock of Jewish refugees to draw upon if there is any shortage.
Poor old Aunt May wrote me pages and pages by sea mail, nearly all of war news, that was in the papers or on the air a month ago. She still has a sort of feeling that we do not hear anything in India till months after it has happened, I believe. I was interested to hear that you thought pretty well of Jamaica Inn. I wanted to see it, but Dad only likes to be made to laugh when he goes to the movies. I like to be thrilled or torn to shreds of sorrow. I like to be made to laugh too, but it seems much more difficult to do a comedy really well, than to do drama. On the whole the French seem to me to be far ahead of other nations in comic films. Perhaps I have only seen the pick, but I have thought them very good. American film humour is so heavy and crude as a rule. I like their wise-cracks, but so often the wise-crackers, talk such broad American that I miss the joke.
How did you do with your prize essay? Any luck? Jean Nimmo (Hogg) has arrived in Calcutta I believe. I may see her at the Himalayan Club lecture on Monday. Her husband is a member of the Himalayan Club.
The sea mail that toes to-day, will probably be the one that will arrive for Christmas. Will you do as you did for your birthday, and if there is anything you want up to about one pound in value, please get it for yourself. I am asking Aunt to hand over the money to you. You will, I hope have a pleasant Christams (why cant I type that word right?) CHRISTMAS! There! - - in spite of the war. Highways will have its usual lunch I suppose, but I imagine that the Aunts will have to go home before dark.
good-bye, my dear, and best love
from
Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
Nov 23rd 1939
My Dears,
Our new Governor, Sir John Herbert, and his Lady, arrived in Calcutta on Saturday morning last, and Herbert had to be on the platform at Howrah, togged up in his political uniform, to meet them. Howrah, the station for all the Indian railways west of the Hooghly River, is itself on the West Bank, and consequently in Herbert’s Division. The outgoing Governor, Sir John Woodhead, gave a cocktail party at Government House on Friday Evening, as a farewell to all his old friends, so we asked Idris if we might stay Friday night with him. The new Governor’s arrival was at 8:30 in the morning, so it would have meant an early start from Chinsurah. Funnily enough, just as I was ringing Idris up to ask if we might stay with him, he was ringing me up to know if I could go and stay there for Saturday night, as he was having a dinner-party for one of the senior men in the Ordanance Dept who was down from Simla, and Idris wanted me to act as hostess for him. It fitted in quite well, for though Herbert wanted to be back in Chinsurah on Saturday evening, it was easy for me to pick up a train at Cossipore, on the East Bank, and come up to Haihati station, which is just opposite this house, and cross the river by boat. The cocktail party was fun. Sir John Woodhead was moving about amongst his guests without any formality at all, and the occasion was a splendid one for meeting many people who had recently arrived from England. We left about 8 o’clock, and drove out to dine quietly at Cossipore. Herbert always enjoys talking and argueing with Idris. They have certain traits in common, one of which is seeing pictures, faces, animals etc, in clouds, cracks on the ceiling, and in other pictures and so on, and they always encourage one another in this ridiculous pastime! They also have perrennial arguments about the tides. Herbert cant understand why they behave as they do. Idris explains and draws diagrams, but Herbert is never satisfied, and says the whole thing is quite unreasonable, and the discussion breaks up in laughter to be started over again at some later date. We had the usual sort of day in Calcutta on Saturday, and Idris met us after lunch, and we went to see Adolf Menjour in “King of the Turf”, - - not a very good film. I have seen too many poor quality films lately. We have been because Herbert was wanting distraction, and to be made to laugh, but the only one out of three or four shows we have seen that accomplished those ends, was “I’d give a million” and that was only second rate. it’s a pity good film are so rare. I wish there were more producers like Rene Clair, who could put on a really humerous film and keep it human and credible. Herbert went on home from Cossipore, and Idris and I arranged the seating for the party, and prepared a little for our guests. It was a jolly party, with a good variety of nationalities there. Anina Brandt, who as you all know is German, came with one of the American Vice-Consuls, whose wife is of German parentage, though born and brought up in the U.S.A. Our Russian friend Mrs. Hawes, commonly known as “Olga of the Volga” and her daughter by her first husband, who was a Cossack called Danilof, killed in the revolution, were just back from France, and gave very amusing accounts of the difficulty they had in getting away from the little French village where they had been spending their leave. The Mayor knew nothing about anything outside his village, and even protested that he had no means of knowing whether India belonged to Britain! Olga, who herself was shot through the shoulder escaping from Russia, says that she is sure Russia will just sit still, and talk, and snatch anything she can get provided she does not have to pay for it. She has not much opinion of the people who rule what was once her country. Another of the guests was half Dutch, and is a great gardener. The remainder of the party were British of one sort or another, but, as I so often find, the mixture of a few people of other nationality, gives a zest to the talk. and we found no need to suggest games or other diversions after dinner.
I had to come home in good time next morning, as I had a family, father, mother, fourteen year old daughter, and twelve year old son, all coming out to lunch and tea, and to retrieve Wendy the red dachshund. I occupied my time in the train by practicing finding the pressure points at which to stop arterial bleeding. You may be glad to know that I had a carriage to myself. Fellow passengers might have thought my actions somewhat eccentric! I enjoyed the trip across the river. It made me wish more than ever that we had a boat.
Wendy, though she had not showed any grief when she was left with us in Darjeeling, was overjoyed to see her master again, but had quite forgotten her mistress, which is not surprising, for it was eighteen months since Dorothy Blandy went home, and Wendy was only a pup then. We thought the poor Max would be very sad when he found his friend had gone, but do you know the hard hearted animal has not shed a tear! In fact we rather get the impression that he is rather glad to be the only pebble on the beach again. The day after Wendy left he burst out into a boil or abcess on his back, poor fellow. I don’t know what can have caused it. It is at the top of his chest just where the brass disc bearing his identity number hangs. I wonder whether the constant rubbing of this could have caused it. The vet lanced it for him, and put a bandage round his neck, which makes him look rather like a curate. He seems in excellent form, in spite of this affair, and is eating with great heartiness.
All the days seem to be busy in one way or another. There were two Government holidays on Monday and Tuesday. We went up to see the Manager of Dunlops’ and his wife on Monday, and Herbert went over the factory. The real reason of the visit was for me to see the garden in which they have made some alterations. It was laid out originally in a stupid way, entirely in rectangles with small hedges along each side of every path. They have been re-doing the tennis courts this year, so could not tackle major alterations in the garden. Perhaps they will feel inclined to pick up some of the paths, and get a more slightly lay-out next year. I have hatched a few ideas, and given a little more time to brood on the bit of land, I think I could produce a plan that would not be too difficult, and look a lot better than the present arrangement.
Our First Aid lectures go on on Tuesdays, and are rather merry affairs, chiefly on account of Madame Menard, who is bubbling with enthusiasm, and most entertaining! Walter Jenkins was up here on Tuesday. he had to be near here on Monday, so asked if he could come and stay till Wed Morning, bringing with him a lot of exam papers he had to correct. The exam was a general knowledge paper, and he got some wonderful answers. To the question “What is an emetic” one man replied “An emetic is a sort of bacilliry dysentry" He introduced me to the English broadcasts from Moscow which come to us between 1.p.m. and 3.p.m. Calcutta time. I had never thought of looking for anything “on the air” then, except relays from Daventry via Delhi, or Indian programmes which I never listen to. Moscow comes through most beautifully. The woman broadcasting the other day, spoke beautiful English, with a very slight touch of American accent. It was rather interesting, and if I can ever persuade myself to abandon my writing table after lunch, I must listen again.
Reception is excellent out here now the Rains are over. It was not bad before, but in most cases, is clear as a bell now. On our five valve set we get Daventry, Rome, Berlin, Moscow, very clearly. Paris rather weak, and America occasionally. There are a lot of other stations I have not been able to recognise. From the far East we get Saigong most beautifully. There is a woman here who speaks French so that one can understand every syllable, and I listen to her quite often for the sake of keeping my ear in tune for French. From Saigong they also broadcast in Chinese, and it sounds queer to our ears for there are so few rich vowel sounds. There is a Japanese Station on the same metre band as Saigong and very close, which also has an odd sound to us. I must confess that the whole business seems like a miracle to me, still!
There is a circus functioning on the Maidan close to us, and we find the roaring of the animals and the band playing till mid.night very trying. The Manager has just been to see me, and ask whether we would honour him by going one evening, so I made polite excuses saying we did not like the wild animals etc and with some difficulty fobbed him off without, I hope, being rude.
From the point of view of news from Europe, it has been a week of waiting and not hearing much, except the horrid news of the sinking of so many ships by mines. There has been a big budget of letters and papers by sea mail from Europe. This week may be the sea mail week for Christmas. To all my sisters and brothers and others to whom I send greeting and small cheques – they will follow by sea-mail and I hope be in time.
Best love to all
LJT
From LJT to Romey
Chinsurah, Nov 23rd, 1939
My darling Romey,
Annette tells me that the first part of your exeat went off well, and that you enjoyed both the films and the play. It well be interesting to hear your impressions of Joyce’s flat. I’m awfully glad you were able to spend your few free days with her. The time for Christmas mail by sea-route, seems to be here, and I have not written any letters yet. Most of them will just have to go next week, for as so often happens. I have had a lot of interruptions this morning.
The mali’s wife can’t feed her little baby, so I have been making arrangements to give it a bottle, and borrowed a neighbor’s ayah to give the mali’s wife a lesson in making and giving the bottle. Meantime, I looked after the small three year old Christine, who is the ayah’s charge. Then the manager of the Circus came, and then another man who wants us to go to a tea-party tomorrow, which luckily we can’t do, as we are going to Calcutta. Next the Himalayan Club clerk rang me up about several things, and so time flies! Is there anything special you want for Christmas? If there is something you want costing about a pound, will you either order it or ask Aunt if she can get it for you, or failing that she will give you the money. I hope you will all have a happy Christmas in spite of the war. We shall be here I think, and I am just planning to ask one or two people to stay. Cyril Gurner might like to come, and Anina Brandt, and probably Dr Jenkins.
Did you ever know anything so fickle as Max, pretending all along that he just doted on Wendy, and then apparently not noticing when she goes away! I wonder whether he was just a bit jealous of the attention she attracted. She was distinctly an oncoming little animal, and ready to make up to everyone. I have been trying to take him out for short walks of an evening, but walking is difficult here. There is just the small Maidan, and then slummy town.
We are breakfasting in the garden again now, and to begin with the squirrels and the mynahs were angry and puzzled, but they have mostly learnt about the change now, and come to the right corner for their food. Dad takes great pleasure in them. I wonder how much one could teach a squirrel if one started when it was quite young, and took a lot of trouble. I believe they are scatter-brained little creatures, always rushing off on some new ploy, and as selfish as thy can be. Dad has had a sudden recrudescence of interest in the stars, so I have written off for the excellent book of star charts giving the night sky for every month of the year in India. There are just a few constellations I manage to remember permanently, but a lot more I learnt from Idris when we were living at Cossipore, I have now forgotten. I am always so glad of any interest that takes Dad’s mind off his work.
If you have the energy sometime, I should greatly like to hear something about the different branches of science you are studying, and what sort of subject or group of subjects you are at at the moment, so that I can get an idea whether you are working on something that I now a little about, or not. I have just lent Wells and Huxley’s Science of Life to the Blandy children who were out here on Sunday. The boy seems as if he would be very interested in it. The girl is specially keen on languages and art. She has taken my two big books on the National Gallery, which I am so glad to have used, for I don’t often look at them, and the reproductions of the pictures are very good. I am glad for them not to be lying idle. It is a difficult sort of life for children of that age, ie 12 and 14, out here, I think. They are nice kids, so I hope they won’t get spoiled. Sorry I keep on reversing letters when I’m typing. I suppose it’s because I am trying to hurry a bit.
Best love Darling,
From Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
India
Nov 30th 1939
My dears,
This seems to have been a very full week. We had a long day in Calcutta on Friday. Herbert had meetings to attend both in the afternoon and the morning. I had a heap of things to attend to, Himalayan Club, a visit to Girl Guide office, Collecting work for the “Hospitals Comforts” for my First Aid group to do, as well as the inevitable shopping. I lunched with Arthur Moore, the Editor of the Statesman. He is a keen advocate of a Federation of European States, and we had some interesting talk. Walter Jenkins kindly came early from his office to help me took at some second-hand cars. We had decided that our old car was getting, or perhaps, had got, to the stage when it would be likely to keep on costing money for renewing parts. Also one could not feel confident that something might not fail to function unexpectedly, so as we have a lot of touring before us during the next two months, it seemed wise to make a change. We had hoped the old car would carry us on till the spring. Another factor that persuaded us that the thought that cars are likely to get more expensive and more difficult to get out here as the war goes on, and we might find ourselves having to pay a very high price if we waited to buy till then. We are getting a 1938 Plymouth, which has done only just over 9,000 miles. I take it over on Saturday. Herbert wont be pleased to have a closed car, but open ones are practically unobtainable now. We met a few people for tea at the Saturday Club, and left for home about 6 o’clock, but perhaps the old car suspected that it was being jettisoned and decided to get its own back, for just as we were nearing the United Service Club, the complex of electric wires behind the dash board, fused. (I’m sorry about the mess at the end of so many of the lines. This old machine of mine has started a new trick. When I press down the margin release, it just does’nt work)
Poor Herbert, who was already very tired, felt quite desperate when this happened, so I begged him to go into the Club and look at the papers, while the driver and I investigated the extent of the trouble. While the investigation was going on, Percy Brown encountered Herbert, and hearing of our trouble offered to let us have his car to take us home, if we could wait till 8 o’clock, as his wife was out in it. We accepted gratefully, as it was evidently going to be a long job dealing with the wires, and I did not want to risk another break down on the road home. We went off to Firpo’s to get a “grill” and started home about 8.30. Our driver came in to Calcutta again in the Brown’s car early the next morning, repaired our wireing, and brought the car out. The Dunlop Company’s Annual Sports were on Saturday afternoon, and were rather good fun. They had a lot of side shows going, made and invented by the different sections in the factory. Some form of hitting Hitler, or shooting down a German Plane was the most popular idea. On Sunday we had the Percy Browns and Mr and Mrs White, the American Consul General and his wife, to spend the day, and we did a long afternoon’s sight-seeing. They were all most enthusiastic. I must say I like the keen interest the Americans take in things. None of the people living near here are in the least interested in the old temples, and the Mosques and tombs built by the Mohammadens from earlier Hindu temples. We also introduced Mrs White to the joys of drinking the juice of green cocanuts. Its an excellent drink!
I had to be in Calcutta again on Monday for a Himalayan Club Lecture, and (Blast this typewriter!) and again had a busy day, lunched with Edward Groth and had tea with my old Dutch Friend Mr van Manen amongst his books, and waited on by his young Chinese servant. I had dinner with the Cookes, and hurried along to the U.S. Club to fix things for the lecture. Three keen climbers, who had only recently heard of the Club, and wanted to join, came to the lecture, and seemed delighted to meet more mountain minded people. They are all joining the Club, and one man from Cumberland and a young Swiss, have already arranged, War permitting, to go climbing to-gether in Sikkim next year. The lecture was by John Auden of the Geological Survey, and the subject was “Himalayan Passes” (Sorry! I made a muddle. I cant rub out when I have a lot of carbons in) It dealt chiefly on the extremely interesting Expedition on which he accompanied Bill Tilman and Eric Shipton two years ago, when they went up to explore parts of the Karakoram, which were practically unknown. Eric Shipton wrote a book called “Blank on the Map” about their travels, which is well worth reading.
I am writing a fearfully dull letter this week, I’m afraid. To tell you the truth, I have been trying to deal with English Christmas mail and feel quite addled, so please forgive me. Herbert is inspecting the Hooghly District Offices this week, and finding the work tireing and annoying. The Office is bad, partly, perhaps, because there have been so many changes of Collectors during the past two years. Hooghly is the District in which Chinsurah is and the offices are close here, so Herbert is able to do this inspection from home. Next week we go up to Asansol, and from there he goes on to Suri, chief town of Birbhum District. I am coming home from Asansol because I do not want tu upset the last two First Aid Lectures. In January we go to Midnapore and Bankura, and that leaves only Howrah District to be delt with, and the work there can be done while staying in Calcutta. I have volunteered to inspect Guide Companies in these Districts for the Provincial Girl Guide Commissioner, because it is difficult for her to get round to see all the different companies. I shall have to brush up some of my guide knowledge again.
The weather is lovely now. Oddly enough we had a night and part of a day of gentle rain on Tuesday. Its most unusual at this time of year, but was lovely for the garden, and he lately planted out seedlings.
I think I have written individually to everyone who will receive this letter, sending them our Christmas wishes, so I need not repeat them here.
Our best love and greetings to you all
LJT