1940 December
Family letter from LJT
(Handwritten note by Aunt in margin ‘Please Annette send this on to Richard (H.M.S Pegasus) as the aunts have another copy’)
Petty’s Hotel
Sydney. N.S.W.
Dec 7th 1940
My Dears,
Once again I have too much to tell, and too little time to tell it in. Sydney is a place in which there is so much to see and to do, and with a brief eight days here, which are to include a three day visit to the Blue Mts, I don’t find much time for letter-writing. I will try to keep some sort of chronological order, and tell you first about Brisbane. To begin with there were two things I had not previously realized about Brisbane. One was that it is so nearly a tropical town, and the other that it was up an estury. Oh, there is a third point. I did not know that it was built on a collection of hills and had such a good background of mountains. We went up the estury between 4:30 and 5:30 in pouring rain, so we saw little, and were sorry for it, though trying to remember that this was the end of a bad drought for Eastern Australia, and life and fortune to so many people. By the time we had tied up, and passed medical and passport inspection it was almost dinner time, and we, and a good number more decided against going ashore. Teresa had been in a great fuss for two days past about getting herself and her baggage ashore. I thought it was her increasing age and her lameness that made her such a terrible fusser over travelling, but the Purser who has been up and down this coast for many years and knows her well, says she has always been like this. I dont know how she has survived so many years of travelling if that is so. She was allowed to stay on board the night, as the ship was not sailing till mid-day the following day. The morning was beautiful, and we went ashore directly after breakfast. The dock was in the new docking area, lower down the river than the old docks, and in what used to be one of the best residential districts of Sydney. Everything looked so neat and clean and bright compared with most docks, and after Eastern native towns. We walked for five minutes through the docks to the tram, which in some twenty minutes took us up into the centre of the town. It was odd to see nothing but white people, and white people doing all the work in a place as hot as Brisbane. We strolled along the main street, visited the post office, the shipping agents, a book shop, and a big store of the John Barker type, where I carried out my intention of buying a mackintosh. We found everyone friendly and willing to talk, and people obliging and helpful in giving directions and information. Orders on board ship were that if we wanted lunch on board, we must be back by 11:30 for between 11:45 and 1 o’clock the ship would be swung and get into position for departure in the late afternoon. If we did not want lunch on board, we need not be back till 4 o’clock. Herbert thought it would be tiring to spend so long ashore, so we went back, and arriving on the jetty on the tick of 11:30 were somewhat dismayed to see the gangways up and the ship already beginning to move. There were a lot of stevedores, several black cats and a dog of uncertain pedigree on the jetty. We took the advice of a couple of rather superior men, the first of whom said it might be an hour or more before the ship tied up again, but the other did not think she would be so long. In fact he said that if she just caught the tide right she might be round in half that time, and advised us to wait and see how things were going, before taking the strong step of going back to the town for lunch. We were glad we took his advice, for the ship came round in twenty minutes, and meantime we had an interesting talk with the men, and watched the feeding of the cats by various kindly disposed persons, who were eating lunch, which they all seemed to bring with them in little brown bags. The men were old to be doing stevedore work. They said most of the youngsters had gone to the war. I have never seen such respectable looking dock labourers. It seemed incredibly odd to us that white men should be doing heavy manual labour in a place so hot. They looked remarkably fit, so I imagine the climate must be much better that its latitude would lead one to expect. General impressions of Brisbane were that it was a clean and gay country town, with plenty of shops of the New Oxford Street type, but none that had pretensions to exclusiveness or real chic. All the streets went up and down hill, and most houses had gardens full of gay flowers. All the women visitors were surprised to find that the all the women in Brisbane were hats, stockings and gloves, things which we coming from Shanghai, Hong Kong, Bankok, Singapore and Calcutta, had long ago abandoned. We were careful to get these things out before we arrived in Sydney, and here it seems right and proper to wear them, for Sydney is so definitely a great metropolis, with its population of a million and a half against Brisbane’s 318,000. We left Brisbane at 5 p.m. and I stayed on boat deck till after the sunset, which was beautiful and unusual. A storm was hanging about and heavy blue black clouds barred the sky, while the sinking sun seemed to paint everything its rays could reach, amber, gold, and primrose. It made a splendid background to the city on its hills, the curves of the river, and the western mountains, which gradually became black silhouettes. The gulls which has been shining white in the full day-light, were black silhouettes too. The banks of the river are low-lying deltaic stuff, the upper portion nearer the city, bearing houses and factories here and there, especially meat export plants. Standing alone, with country round them, and room and leisure to create gardens, with bourgainvillias, and hibiscus flowering gaily, they do not give the impression of crowded commerce elbowing out all beauty and spaciousness. The lower reaches of the estury have banks of swampy jungle, and many branches and backwaters. The forest gives the impression of mangrove swamps, but I doubt whether the trees are mangroves, for they seem to have ordinary roots, and do not stand on stilts like mangroves. The early part of the day before getting to Brisbane had been rough, and I spent it lying reading and sleeping on my bed till the middle of the afternoon, and so avoided any but the mildest discomfort. The lately passed storm had left a heavy swell and a brisk breeze behind it, and when we got out side the islands, the ship began to roll a little, and I believe she rolled heavily during the night, but I slept well. I sucked glucose barley sugar and took a dose of glucose, and that plus the practice of the earlier rough weather, seemed to preserve me from ill, and I got up, ate a hearty breakfast, and after sitting gingerly in a chair reading for a while, and discovering that I was suffering no discomfort, I ventured below to pack, since we had been warned that we might get in early the next morning. So we did. When we woke at about five o’clock, and rang for our shutters to be opened, we saw that we were inside the famous Heads at the entrance to Sydney Harbour, waiting for the doctor to come on board. We dressed quickly and went up for medical inspection, and then watched the fascinating panorama of the harbour as we slowly steamed up it. Round a point we came in sight of the famous bridge, the Captain had told me the previous evening that the first time he went under it, he was certain the pilot had made a mistake, and that the mast was too high and would hit. In spite of this, and other talk in the same strain, one could not help an empty feeling in the pit of the stomach, as gazing up at the mast as we approached the bridge, every nerve told one that the mast would crash against that great mass of steel. Not till the very last moment did the illusion dispel itself, and everyone drew a sigh of relief, as we slid along with many feet of clearance above us. I had heard so much of Sydney Harbour that I expected to be disappointed, but truly the half had not been told me. I had not expected anything on the scale of this great arm of deep blue water with its thousand bays and inlets, its rocky headlands, still many of them covered with trees and gardens, and kept as public parks, while the great city has covered the hills in every direction. We wondered how much it has grown and changed since Mr Townend was out here in 1900, and Barney a little later, and Dora, later still. Its a bright and well-to-do looking city, with no slums visible, though people to whom I say this declare that slums there are. Trams run everywhere, out to a radius of about 15 or 20 miles, and where the trams dont go, big bright red double-decker busses link up all the districts, and the many bathing beaches. The taxis are gay coloured too, bright blue, orange, scarlet. There are many cars and few bicycles. People are smartly dressed in obviously town clothes and hats. There are shops of every description, and many of the good class that I did not spot in Brisbane. The roads and pavements are as crowded as in London or Paris. There is big system of underground railways, and a large number of ferry boats spreading fanwise from the Circular Quay close to the South end of the great bridge. Yes! Its a wonderful city.
Dec. 10th 1940. I had hoped to finish this letter last Sunday evening, but our Ste Maxime friend Mrs Tonge and her sons took us out for the second afternoon in succession, first for a drive across the bridge and through the North town into the edge of the country and to some of the famous bathing beaches, and then to tea with one of the married daughters, where we stayed till nearly seven o’clock, not getting back till almost dinner-time. Afterwards I had to pack, for I wanted to arrange our boxes so that we should scarcely have to touch them on our return from the Blue Mountains and the Jenolan Caves, for which we were starting at 9 a.m. on Monday morning. We have just now returned from that expedition now, and very lovely it has been.
When we at last got our baggage from the baggage room on Thursday morning, the Customs passed it quickly and were charming about it, only opening one little suitcase out of the lot. A red-haired young taxi driver took us in hand, and as he drove us up to the hotel, he asked whether Herbert was any relation to the famous author. He was greatly pleased to hear they were brothers, and poured out a flood of admiration for Bill’s books. We made another contact with the head-waiter at the hotel. I asked him what time the news broad-casts took place, and in answering he said “Its a long time since I heard from my people.” I asked if he came from England, and it turned out that his home is in Woodbridge and he knows the Quilters, and mentioned lots of the Suffolk names with which I am familiar. My letter from Brisbane had reached Mrs Tonge, who rang me up, and was full of apologies that she could not do anything for us that day or the next, for she was just off to do some job at a hospital, and her eldest son whom she had not seen for 2 ½ years, was arriving that evening, so she felt she must keep his first day at home free, but said she would call for us and take us for a drive on Saturday. We found heaps to keep us busy on Thursday evening, Friday and Saturday morning. We had to book passages to New Zealand, and were lucky to get even the rather poor accomodation we have reserved, i.e. a berth each in different four-berth cabins. However we did not want to wait till the 27th, which was the next sailing, and even if it is a bit uncomfortable, its not for long, and in wont be hot, at least not tropical heat, though Sydney has been up over 80 in the shade a good part of the time we have been here. We also visited the Bank where to our great delight we were able to change our sterling notes, which we thought we should not be able to do. At the New South Wales Tourist Bureau we fixed up the tour to the Blue Mountains, and then we were free to do some sight-seeing. We walked in the Botanical Gardens which are right in the heart of the town quite close to this hotel. We drove on a tram out to the South Head, which is a fine bluff, and had tea at a nice little café on the “Gap” the narrow rocky neck which joins the Head to the mainland. On Saturday morning we took the launch across the harbour to the famous zoo, which is a lovely place. We looked first at the birds and then strolled across to the koala bear park, where the absurd little creatures were sleeping or just sitting looking about them in the trees, and so by way of the aquarium, back to the jetty. The zoo is a rocky hill promontory, and it has been possible to utilize the natural rocks for many of the animals parks and dens. The gardens are lovely. The roses are in full bloom, and the English summer flowers are all out, as well as lots of Australian things. Mrs Tonge called for us after lunch, accompanied by her eldest son, now in the Tank Corps, and her youngest, who has just qualified as a doctor and had been in the Army for three days. The Tank Corps son is really a Queensland farmer, and has been at the job since he was sixteen. He is now thirty. We were interested when he talked about life on the farm and sheep stations. He says on the place he is in they “shear twenty thousand sheep”. He drove us all about the town, while Mrs Tonge pointed out different things to us, and gradually we drove out to Bondi Beach, where crowds of people were bathing and a few coming in on surf boards. It looks good fun, but the proportion of surf riders to the ordinary bathers is very small to judge by what we saw both during the short time we stopped to watch the bathing that afternoon, and what we saw the following morning when we took the launch across to Manly and watched the bathing there. Each pair of headlands along the coast bound a strip or half moon of silver sand, where the surf rolls in, and these beaches are so plentiful that even on a summer Sunday the crowds are not excessive at any one, and we were struck by the fact that they are clean and well kept, and one sees no refuse or paper lying about anywhere. I have told you how the Tonges took us out again in the afternoon. It was showery, but the views were lovely in spite of that, as we drove over the hills to the north of the town, and looked back over the harbour, or out to sea. It was awfully good of Mrs Tonge and her sons to give up so much time to us, especially when Tom, the elder one, had not been home for so long. It was pouring with rain when we left the married daughter’s house in the evening; and I think it went on raining well into the night, but it was hot in spite of that. We were so glad when we found the morning fine for our days’ drive. These tours are arranged in big seven-seater cars. We were called for first, and then picked up two nice girls who live in Melbourn, and a stout little R.C. priest, an Irishman with a rich brogue. It was pleasant being only five in the car. The first twenty miles of the drive are not specially attractive, for the road is through town all the way, past a lot of factories and engineering works. The next ten or fifteen miles are over slightly undulating country, in which, so the driver told us, a great many Greeks, Italians and Czecks have settled and engaged in market-gardening. The country has been improved by the recent rain, but is still dry and shows the marks of the long drought. There has been no rain to speak of for two years, and a shortage on average for five years before that. The effect of the drought shows even more when we got into the mountains, for they are largely covered with “bush” - - in other words the forest of gum trees, and fires have raged through them. It seems that the gum is almost impossible to kill. Its bark protects it, and later peels off. Generally the tree sprouts anew all up its branches, but even if so badly burnt that the main tree dies, still fresh growth springs up from the roots. The road more or less follows the track discovered and surveyed by three men, Blaxland, Lawson and Wentworth, searching for a way over the mountain barrier to hoped for rich lands beyond. Several attempts were made to follow up water courses, but each time the explorers were stopped by a barrier of high sheer cliffs, for these mountains are an ancient tableland out of which the rivers have carved great valleys, giving sort of Grand Canyon effects. At last the explorers hit on the plan of making straight up through the bush for the summit, and so they at last succeeded. The original road was made in about a year by convicts, and there still exist the old inns, two or three churches and an old court house built by them. Its the old bush-ranger country, and the famous Jenolan Caves were discovered by a man who was tracking down an escaped convict and cattle thief. We went up the valley where he is reputed to have lain in hiding for so long, this morning, and it satisfies all the requirements of the adventure books. The entrance is through a cave, the first arch being only of moderate size, so that it might easily have been screened by trees and bushes. It gives entry to a huge cavern the exit from which is an enormous arch, leading up a narrow rocky valley, down which flows a stream in normal times, but at the moment it is dry. Soon the valley opens out into pasture land and open woodland, and about three miles up is a grassy flat which is reputed to be the place where the outlaw, McKeown lived till he was caught. Its a fine drive over the table-land, through the forests. The car turned off the main road here and there, to take us to special look out places on the edge of cliffs, commanding grand views across valleys, and giving us the chance to spit down a thousand feet of sheer cliff if so disposed. We lunched at the mountain holiday resort of Katoomba, a biggish town with several large hotels, which is roughly half way to Jenolan. We dropped off the outer range across a wide valley, where there are sheep and cattle lands and fruit farms, and climbed on to the main dividing range that runs right up through Victoria, N.S.W. and Queensland. We stopped for tea at a farm and “guest house” where they gave us admirable scones and cream, and reached the Jenolan House about 6 o’clock. We had dinner at 6.30, and started the inspection of one of the caves at 7.30. No description I have ever heard or read had ever given me the slightest idea of the size and quality of these caves. There are thirteen of them, nine of which are open to the public and lit by electricity, and the time taken to see each averaged two hours. I had never been in even a small limestone cave decorated with stalactites and stalagmites, so when I found myself in a veritable fairyland of these amazing things of every size from 30 feet or more to little elfin things of an inch or two, and in every shade from glistening white, through pale shell pink to deep oranges, warm browns and indian reds, in grottos and halls, sometimes so low that one must stoop to pass and sometimes with a domed roof 175 feet above ones head, you may guess that I felt impressed. Besides the staligtites and staligmites there are lovely things know as “shawls”, where drips have run down a sloping roof, instead of dropping from a flat one, and in thousands of years they have formed thin wavy sheets sometimes striped with delicate colour, or richly dark, like an indian blanket. These wonders in calcium have made themselves into the oddest forms, and one can pick out faces and figures and animals galore. Its lucky the Almighty has no time sense by human standards, or He would have got tired of this fantastic job eons ago, for the fastest rate at which they have been able to trace the growth of a stalactite is one inch in a hundred and the average is much slower. We were amazed at the cave we saw on Monday night, but the great Orient cave we went over yesterday morning was even more marvellous. It is just impossible to describe these places, which do deserve the title “enchanted halls”. We were fascinated by a miniature peep show. Looking through a hole about a foot wide or less, we saw an apparently frozen lake, with chandaliers of clear glass hanging above it and what might almost be tiny figures in clear glass skating on it. A few steps further on we came to a stalagmite known as “The Commonwealth Pillar” standing thirty five feet high, while above it hangs what might be an old regimental colour. We felt that we could not take in more than two caves and spent Tuesday afternoon and this morning walking. The men who put the lighting into the caves made a splendid job of it. In places the Guides turn on one light at a time, to show up special beauties, and then a blaze altogether to show the Alladdin’s Cave effect. It must have taken some nerve to explore these caves in the beginning. The Hotel is a big place catering for 250 guests, and well run. We enjoyed our two days there, and left at 1.30 to-day, getting back here at 6 p.m. On the return journey we came straight through at a good pace, whereas on the outward journey there had been several diversions, and stops to see things of interest. Its a first class road the whole way. It was delightful to be in really cool air again, and sets me longing more than ever for the mountains of New Zealand. The gum forests are dull compared with English woods, for there is little variation in colour, but when walking there are interesting flowers and birds. The blue and red lories (as the parrots seem to be called) are common both near buildings and in the forest, and so are the magpies, and though we did not see a laughing jackass to recognize him, we heard them laughing. There are lots of wallabies all about the rocks near the caves and the hotel, quite tame, and not at all bothered by the presence of people. There are many opossums too, but as they come out at night they are difficult to see.
Our stay in Sydney is almost over, and we hope to be in New Zealand before the week is up, and we are longing to get letters. We dont intend to stay long in Wellington, but get away to the mountains in the South Island as soon as we can.
We were terribly grieved to read of the heavy air raid on London on Sunday. It keeps on pulling me up when I am sight seeing and enjoying things and suddenly think what life must be like in England. Its exciting news from England to-day, about Egypt. I hope we do as well as the Greeks have.
Its getting late and I must stop this. We have much to do to-morrow, so I want to fold these away ready to post, and I’ve no time to write any personal letters.
Love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Romey
Dec 15, 1940 On board ship between Sydney and Wellington
My darling Romey,
In Sydney they told me that as I was just embarking for New Zealand, my letter to you would go just as quickly if I take it with me and post it in Wellington---Therefore I am so doing. The family letter was written against time, sitting at a rickety table in the hotel bedroom after dinner and a long days sight-seeing and motor drive, so I fear it scarcely does justice to our impressions of Sydney and our brief glimpse of Australian mountain scenery.
An old friend, Mrs. Tonge, whom we got to know in the days at Ste Maxime, was very good to us and we met her son Tom, who went out to a sheep and cattle station as a boy of 16. He is now a man of 30. You would have been interested in his talk about horses and how they catch them and break them and use them on the station for the work of rounding up the sheep and cattle. It seems odd to think in terms of thousand acre fields and it must be some job to catch horses in an area of that size. I’d like to go and stay on one of the big “stations” for a week or two to see what the life is like. John Tonge, youngest son and recently qualified doctor, was interested to hear of your experiences about the standards of work in Canadian Schools and Colleges, compared with English ones. He was at public School in England and had the same experience as you did when he came back to Australia and went to an Australian university. Some of the Australian expressions compare very creditably with American talk. A common one is “ it’s a cow of a ---” whatever it may be, instead of “horrid”. “It’s a cow of a day” -- and even “a cow of a horse”.
I had meant to write this letter this morning, but first of all I got into conversation with an interesting woman entomologist and then a woman who is partly Maori and very attractive to look at, started singing Maori songs for us. They are most attractive and understandable to us in a way the highly standardized Indian music is not.
Sydney was hot -- not the same heat as the tropics, but like a very hot English summer. I often thought of you, wondering how cold you were at that same moment. I can scarcely believe that we shall get letters from home and from you tomorrow. It is so long since we had news. I am awfully anxious to hear your impressions of life in a Canadian University-- and of Canada as the winter cold settles down on her.
Please give my love to Susie and Helen, as well as to John, with lots to yourself,
Mother
(Added later around edge of letter): Dec 17th Such a lovely lot of letters from you and from England waiting for us here--as well as your Christmas parcel--for which, dearest--many thanks from us both. You have chosen things that will be really useful and even at my advanced age, I feel quite a thrill to know that they are made by Red Indians. I won’t try to write more this week. Dad is writing on the back of this page.
Love to all and thanks, Mother
Letter to Romey from HPV (on back of letter from LJT)
Dec 15, 1940
My dear Rosemary,
All this journey seems more and more unreal. The sheer improbability of my visiting Java is surpassed only by that of my coming down to Australia and on to New Zealand. This life of rushing round ( for I cannot settle down to anything on shipboard and in hotels there is nowhere to sit quietly) makes it difficult to believe that there is a war raging , or that we might at any time bump into a mine or a raider.
Our week in the heat of Surabaya left us rather limp, even though we started full of energy after our stay in the hills. The trip down to Sydney was for me not a success, as I ran slight fever after the first two days. Sydney was hot but pleasant and our trip to the Blue Mountains a complete success even though I left my pajamas behind me in the hotel their. This voyage to New Zealand has been blessed with perfect weather and although the ship is old (scrapped by brought out again owing to the war) and although she is fairly crowded, we have been very comfortable. Your mother has only one other lady in her 4-berth cabin and I two other men in mine, and although the ship is not air conditioned, she is surprisingly well ventilated. Tomorrow, all being well, we should get letters from you and the others. I look forward to them.
Much love,
Dad
From LJT to Romey
Dec 19, 1940
Hotel Windsor, Wellington, New Zealand
My darling Romey,
When I went to post your letter on Tuesday, the man said that Friday would be plenty of time to post of for the next Air Mail, and since there was “weight” room (to coin a new expression) for another sheet, I brought the envelope back, and am adding this. You may therefore ignore the Postscript written in ink along the side of my last letter. I can scarcely describe to you what a pleasure it was to get a great collection of letters when we got here, though it is sad to read of all they have had to put up with in England, and of Auntie Arla having one side of her flat destroyed. How cheerful and plucky they all are, and how calmly they seem to take everything. Your letters of 27/10 and 3/11, 7/11 and 17/11-- as well as the parcel of presents, the film and the paper about the typewriter, were all waiting for us, and we are so glad to get your news, and to know that you are well, and ( as far as we can judge!) - happy.
The photos show a new, and very much more mature, “you” than the Rosemary I remember. I like your permed hair, and altogether I think you look a very nice daughter. Will you thank Cousin Susie, or Helen or whoever took the photos, and tell them how pleased we are to have them? Dad and I are both interested in the paper about the typewriter It sound as if it would be a dear little machine, and I should think it was wise to get a new one. I don’t think people often sell typewriters till they are beginning to get things wrong with them. You have by this time got plenty of advice about carbons. I expect, but incase you have not, I offer the following suggestions. For making several copies, buy the thinnest carbons. Don’t try to be economical, but discard them directly they get worn. I buy “Kolok” largely because they give a “carbon holder” with the sheets. It is merely a sheet of thick red paper, the size of the writing paper and carbons, only with a turn-down flap at the top about 2 inches wide. It’s much easier to arrange the paper and carbons in this, and put them into the machine, and it would be quite easy to make one of fairly stout brown paper, if you are not supplied with one.
Your presents are very well chosen for Dad is getting a bit tired of his ties, and the one you have sent will go well with his brown tweed coat and blue shirts. The colorings in my scarf go with practically all my wooly clothes. Thank you ever so much for them. We have just posted the book about Winnipeg to you, so I hope it will reach you safely. The man in the post office says the sea mail takes about three weeks, so, if they can give me a fair idea of the times when the mails will leave, I may take to sending your letters by it, for it would not be so very slow, and five shillings does seem a lot for one letter. If, on the other hand, they can give no sort of idea when the mails are going, I shall stick to air and hang the expense!
I am keenly interested to hear about what you are doing at College. It is wise to join in the social doings, I am sure. It is a good thing, and makes life far more interesting if you make plenty of “contacts”. I rather feared you might find yourself a little isolated by taking the combined First and Second Year Courses, and I hope it is not being too difficult. In all probability you will fit into your niche and make plenty of friends during the next few months. It somehow seems so odd to hear of swimming as a way of getting exercise in a country as cold as Winnipeg in Winter.
There is neither time nor space to comment on all your letters in detail, but we are interested in all the news, and greatly like the account of Polo watching your bathing, and appreciate the illustration. She is an amusing looking pup according to the photos, though her colouring is such good camouflage against the background, that it is hard to trace her exact outline.
Arriving at Wellington, as we have, such a short while before Christmas, we are not spending as long here as we intended, but are off to Christchurch, the capital of the South Island, tomorrow, and intend to stay there till the Christmas rush is over, and do some mountain excursions from there, and then move on to Mount Cook when the Christmas rush has finished. The New Zealand mountaineering club have been awfully nice. A charming letter was waiting from a member of the party who was to have come to India this year and he came round to see us directly we got here, bring the local Secretary of the Club. They have arranged an evening for us tonight, at which they are showing slides. The Christchurch people rang up yesterday to know whether we had arrived and say they are looking forward to looking after us when we get there.
Thanks again for the accounts which I have been to study yet. As soon as you are able to do so, I’d much like to have a general estimate to your expenses ie board and lodging to Cousin Susie, College Fees and so on, as I fear we may not be sending enough money. I expect we could get permission to send more. Let us know.
Best love darling,
Mother
Family letter from LJT
(hand written note by LJT at top: ‘Copy. Please forward this to Richard – if Air Mail original was not received.’)
The Lodge,
Christchurch
South Island New Zealand
Dec 23rd 1940.
My Dears.
At last we have reached the country chosen for our leave. The two months and a bit we spent on the journey and the stay in Java were by the way. The Tasman Sea, in spite of an evil reputation, treated us well, and the short voyage of three and a half days was pleasant and comfortable, contrary to our expectations. In my four-berth cabin there was only one pleasant old lady. Herbert was not so lucky for there were two men in his cabin. However they were kindly and obliging, so things were not too bad. They managed to keep the ship wonderfully well aired in spite of the fact that she is an old boat and has not got the forced air ventilation system. People on board were pleasant and friendly, and the days passed pleasantly. Wellington has a harbour that is the equal to that at Sydney. Its different, for it is a huge basin, with a narrow entrance, and its edges are shallow bays (I mean shallow in the sense of coast formation, not depth of water ) and not a series of long winding inlets. The hills go up from the water on all sides, steeper and higher than Sydney, I think and not all built over. Its a charming looking place, but gave us a taste of its great drawback, i.e. strong winds, on the day of our arrival. At the Bank, to which we hurried as soon as we had dumped our boxes at the Hotel, we found a splendid budget of letters waiting for us, both from England, Canada and India, as well as one from a member of the New Zealand climbing club (Correct title “Canterbury Mountaineering Club) saying would I ring him up as soon as I arrived, as he and the small group of members in Wellington wanted to arrange an evening for us, and also he wanted to come round to see us and find out if there was anything he could do to help. It was awfully nice getting such a friendly letter the moment we arrived in a strange country. I had had a lot of correspondance with members of the Club who had planned to come to India to attempt to climb Kangchenjunga, but were prevented by the War. This young man, Mr Brooks, was to have been one of the party. He came round to tea with us, bringing the Secretary of the local branch of the Club, and we had a great mountain talk and accepted an invitation to go to see a show of slides and meet other members of the Club after dinner on the Thursday. Dinner is early in N.Z. In the hotels it is from 6.15 to 7.30. In private houses it seems the custom to have it at 6.15 or 6.30. We had so many letters waiting for us that it took us a whole hour to read them. We were terribly distressed to hear of the partial destruction of Alice’s flat, and of the complete destruction of Jim Pearce’s Works. The Air Raid news is the first thing I search for in the paper, but in a way it tells one so little. What splendid news it has been from Greece and from Egypt, these last few weeks! After lunch Herbert had a short sleep while I unpacked what I thought we should need for the few days in Wellington, and then we went to the Tourist Bureau to get information and make plans. Christmas being so near we decided to leave Wellington on Friday the 20th and come to Christchurch, probably staying till the Christmas rush was over. One of the jobs we had to do in Wellington was to get in touch with the Government Dept. through whom Herbert has to draw his leave pay, so we set out to cope with that after breakfast the next morning, and found the man we wanted in the huge new offices of the “Social Security” Building. Social Security is a subject much talked of in N.Z. Roughly speaking the idea seems to be that for every poind earned, one shilling is taken by Government, supposedly to go towards providing funds from which everyone is entitled to draw an old age pension after the age of sixty. Herbert’s business concluded, with the extremely friendly and obliging official, we went on to call on the Aunt of our N.Z. friend who lives in Chinsurah. She lives in one of the Hill-top suburbs, which we reached by taxi, delighted by the flower gardens both public and private which we saw on the way up. I forgot to mention that the wind had gone and that it was a perfect summer day. Flowers seem to grow marvellously in Wellington and their quality and colour seems to be of specially high grade. All our English roses, carnations, sweet-peas and so on, were in full bloom. A small variety of mesembrianthemum, forming cushions entirely covered with flowers of every shade of pink and mauve, grading from almost white to deep crimson and purple were prominent in many gardens, making patches of a brilliance only rivalled by stained glass. Mrs Grainger has a charming little house with a magnificent view of the harbour. She was such a nice friendly woman, and cordially invited us to stay with her. We said that we were moving off almost at once, and had to do a big repacking, as we intended to leave our trunks in Wellington. She suggested that we should go to her on our return, and added she would like it to be a real visit, not just a question of a day or two. Laughingly she added as we were saying goodbye “You notice I did not invite you to stay till I had seen you!” We had certainly never expected she would do such a thing, even after she had seen us. We could not accept her invitation to stay to lunch, for we had booked seats for a motor trip leaving at 2 o’clock. These trips are done by road coaches, and the one we chose takes three hours and shows you the town and a part of the harbour coast as well as the coast outside the Heads. The harbour and the hills were looking splendid. The water was brilliant blue, turning here and there to green, and the light and shadow on the hills gave them extra beauty. They give the appearance of being covered with grass as one sees them in the distance, and so they are to some extend, but there is a lot of fern, bracken, gorse (one of the pests introduced by the English) and yellow lupin, which is much used to fix loose sand. Here and there there are pine woods, and the more distant hills across the harbour are covered with real “bush”, that convenient word covereing almost as many meanings as our word “jungle”. A few of the suburbs are built on hills, but for the most part the tops have been left open, and the town and its suburbs are built in the valleys. Of late years many of the hills have been tunnelled to let the roads and tramways through – In some of the little sea-side resorts facing the ocean, the gardens caught our attention again. Rambler roses and pink ivy-leafed geranium had escaped from them and gone wandering up the steep cliffs or hill-sided behind, making sheets of pink and crimson. The coast is a series of bays between rocky headlands and the sand is a curious grey colour. The morning of our last day in Sydney I devoted firmly to packing, while Herbert went to the bank and did various jobs. We visited the Botanical gardens in the afternoon, taking a “cable car” which is hauled to the top of a hill, down one flank of which the gardens and park spread. By taking the car up, we avoided the labour of the up-hill pull. The gardens, though pretty, were disappointing from the botanical point of view, for things were either not labelled at all, or so badly that they gave little information of value. The evening was taken up with the mountaineer’s party and it was pleasant and interesting. I suppose there were about twenty people there, mostly young men and a few girls. They apologised for not being able to put up a better show, but they were all extra busy because of Christmas coming on. They showed a lot of slides, the effect of which was somewhat spoiled because the lantern was of poor quality, and the screen not satisfactory, but we enjoyed it all the same, found the pictures interesting, and liked all the talk. We finished up with tea and sandwiches and cake. New Zealander seem to drink tea seven times a day. The first cup comes in the early morning, then there is breakfast, mid-morning, lunch, tea, dinner and supper. Mr. Brooks told me that the C.M. Club had rung up from Christchurch to find out when I would be there, for they were anxious to arrange a little show for me before many of them went away for their Christmas-Summer holidays. It is a surprise to me to be treated as quite such an honored guest. As our boat did not leave till 2:45, we had time to go to the Museum for a short time on Friday morning, and concentrated on the Maori things. Their huge war canoes, their houses and weapons are fine work. The journey from Wellington to Picton, crossing Cook Strait and going up Queen Charlotte Sound (famous for memories of Capt Cook ) takes three hours. It was very windy crossing the strait, and we were driven from the seat where we had settled by spray. Once we got into the sound it was lovely. Steep rocky hills covered with grass and bracken, come to the waters’ edge, and the deep water channel winds amongst them, seeming only a few hundred yards wide. Queen Charlotte is only one of hundreds of such sounds on the North of the South Island, and they are a happy holiday ground for people with motor boats. Many of these narrow deep sounds are of great length. It took us an hour or more from the mouth of the Sound to Picton, and Queen Charlotte is by no means the longest. Picton is a small holiday town, with a couple of hotels and lots of small houses, tucked in between the hills at the head of the Sound. The landscape is not unlike the Scotch Lowlands. The train which manages to take an hour over the short journey from Picton to Blenheim, also managed to spend three quarters of an hour pottering in Picton, for no good reason that we could see. At last we arrived at Blenheim, a good hour and a half late, but the hotel having been warned of our arrival, had kept dinner for us till the almost unheard-of hour of 8:45. Travelling with us were a nice couple from Singapore, who had been on the Boisevein with us from Sourabaya to Sydney, and turned up on the boat from Sydney to Wellington. By this time we felt old friends, and we were glad to find that they were doing the journey to Christchurch with us too. We left by motor coach the next morning for Christchurch, a drive of 207 miles. After a few miles through flat arable lands varied by a few orchards, we began to climb a considerable range of hills, big lumpy grass covered fellows, with outcrops of rock, and here and there pockets of bush remaining. There were plenty of fine sheep grazing on them. Winding through the hills, over a pass and down again, we emerged on the edge of the sea, with hills still on our right and a rocky shore on our left. The country was lovely. Houses were few and far between, and small and ugly when we did see them. Most of them conformed to one simple pattern: a square wooden box with a corrugated iron roof and an iron roofed verandah supported on iron uprights in front. Even in the matter of the colour of the paint, they show a distressing lack of initiative, sticking to a pale chrome for the walls and red for the iron roof. About an hour before lunch we came on to a flat plain, with plenty of good crops and fields full of splendid looking cows. We should have seen snow covered mountains a little way inland, but soft rain was falling, and they were blotted out. We lunched at the town of Kaikoura, and not long after leaving the town again we once more climbed into hills, and drove through them for a long while, till we dropped eventually on to the famous Canterbury Plains, and arrived at Christchurch three quarters of an hour late, i.e. 5.45. By the time we had got a taxi and transported ourselves to the hotel, it was getting near the N.Z. dinner-hour. A note was waiting for me from another member of the proposed Kangchenjunga Expedition, asking whether, if we were not too tired, we would go to a show of lantern slides that night, and to meet members of Canterbury Mountaineering club. I rang up the number given and said I would love to go, but that Herbert was too tired. Mr. Baker said he would call for me at 7.15. A very mice young man turned up, with a delightful mother, and they said they would be delighted if Mr Kent would go along too. It was a delightful party. It took place in the house of one of the founder members of the Club, (whose headquarters is here). There were gathered to-gether a few elderly men, and a lot of youngsters, quite a few of whom were in uniform. They were all so very friendly. They gave a splendid show of slides, incomparably better than those we saw in Wellington, - - but then this is the Headquarters of the Club, and the President, Mr Kennedy (in whose house we were) is a retired school-master, mad about photography and an expert at making slides, of which he has a collection of some thousands. He also had the leisure to sort and arrange a series giving an excellent review of the various ranges of the South Island, which Mr Baker commented on excellently. Afterwards they asked if I could say a few words about the Himalayas and the Himalayan Club, so I talked for ten or fifteen minutes, and then we had the inevitable and very good tea and sandwiches and cakes and lots and lots of talk.
25-12 The Bakers, mother and son, drove us home, and asked whether Herbert and I would like to go a drive and a lunch picnic with them the following day, which was a Sunday. It was heavenly weather, and we had a glorious day. They called for us at 10.30, bringing another young man, who had not been able to attend the previous nights show. We drove for a couple of hours, getting into the mountains, and leaving the main road for a track up to a pass. We stopped a mile or so short of the top at a place where the car could turn and had our picnic, talking hard, mostly about mountains. It seems that the lads here have read everything that has been written about the Himalayas of late years, and being with them was like being amongst old friends. Mrs Baker’s late husband was in the Navy, and was badly knocked up by the battle of Jutland. He retired and they tried living at one or two places in England where he seemed to get no better, so they came out to New Zealand at the suggestion of relatives in the hope that the climate here would be good for him, but he had to take to his bed almost directly they arrived, and never got up again. She and the boy stayed on here. After lunch we walked on up to the pass, from which we got a splendid view, and the lads were able to point out lots of the mountains about which we had been talking. We lounged on a bank of thick grass for a long while, until Herbert and I got a little nervous about getting back in time for our evening meal. However Mrs Barker insisted that we should go back and have pot luck supper with them. They have a nice little house, and I throughly enjoyed helping to wash up the picnic things, and get the supper ready, and clear up after it, while Herbert talked to the two boys. Nevil Baker is an intelligent young man, on the staff of one of the newspapers here. The other lad is working for the N.Z. Broadcasting Co, at their station up at Nelson in the north of the Island, and was only home for a short holiday. Before we parted, the Bakers had arranged to come and take us for another drive on Christmas morning (To-day) and Mr Baker promised to ring up a man in the Survey Map Office and tell him to help us to chose maps, and also to arrange with another member of the Club who is on the staff of the museum here and is primarily an ethnologist to show us the Maori section of the museum. We had an interesting time in the Survey Office on Monday afternoon, and a fascinating visit to the museum yesterday. It was a lucky day to have arranged it, for the weather had turned chilly and wet, after a hot day on Monday. Mr Duff made the Maori things extremely fascinating. He also showed us the work they are doing with bones of the moa, many of which have recently been found in some peat bogs. We liked him so much, and found so much in common that after taking up two hours of his time (We had at intervals said that we must not delay him longer,) but he insisted that he was not in any hurry) we asked him to come out to tea with us, and sat a long while talking over it. I hope we shall see him again. We have been lucky to have all these introductions. It has made us feel so little like strangers.
One reason for choosing this hotel was that it is only a few yards from the Botanical Gardens, which are quite outstandingly good. We have visited them three times already, and we think the trees are the best collection we have seen anywhere. All the old friends from England which were brought by the Canterbury Pilgrims, flourish here even better than in their own homeland. They have trees from Canada and America as well as their own things, and gums and auricarias from Australia. I’ve scarcely begun looking at the rock garden. The roses are superb, and never have I seen or dreamed of seeing lilium regalie in such masses! The little river Avon curves through the town, its banks everywhere are beautifully kept green grass planted with silver barked birches and weeping willows. It curls right round three sides of the gardens, separating them from a big park. We walked right round the park, after mooning through the gardens this afternoon. The weather was ideal, and we could not well have spent a pleasanter Christmas afternoon, given the fact that we could not be with all of you. Christmas dinner, was in the middle of the day, and we have had a very early supper to-night, i.e. timed for 5.30, but actually at 5.45, so as to let the maids off duty. We had a lovely drive with the Bakers this morning, getting out a number of times to look at specially good views. Between this town and the mountain ranges which make the backbone of the island, lie the flat Canterbury Plains, but here, close at hand, is a group of high hills, of volcanic origin, which were once an island. They almost enclose the long narrow Lyttleton harbour, where early explorers and early settlers landed. There is now a road running more or less along the summits of the hills, crossing the track by which the settlers climbed from the harbour over the hills to the plains, where they did eventually carve their homes out of the bush and the swamps. From the hill tops, we got good views of the harbour which was a strange cloudy turquoise blue something like the high glacier lakes in Tibet. The jetties and ships looked just like the toys Herbert made for Richard years ago. Christchurch lay on the plain below on the other side; a city, small compared with many modern towns, set out with neat rows of streets crossing one another at right angles, and in the centre, the cathedral square, -- the cathedral, just a large church in modern gothic, and not very good at that. It is claimed that Christchurch is like an English town, but I can’t see it. The houses are mostly of wood, with tin roofs, painted here in various shades of red and green, and though they are bright and neat, they have little beauty, and don’t look a bit like anything I have seen in England. There is a sort of countrified air about the people here, very different from Sydney, and distinctly different from Wellington. Christchurch is, I suppose, a bit off the map, in that it does not lie on any of the world’s through routes. If people want to come here, they have to make a special effort, so to speak. On the drive down here we were pleased at the way our bus stopped every now and again, while the driver hopped down, got a parcel from the back of the vehicle and put it into a box mounted on legs by the road-side. It was nice to see such trust in the honesty of the country-side. The farms and sheep stations were, for the most part widely scattered, and the passing of these daily motor coaches must have made a big difference for them.
We have crystalized our plans for a while ahead. We are going to stay quietly here till Jan 6th, when the biggest rush of holiday makers will be over. Then we go over to a hotel close to the foot of a great glacier on the West coast. It is run by two brothers who were Guides in their earlier days. They seem to be great characters, and much beloved. All our mountain friends advise us to go there, and the Kents are going to do the same. We shall probably stay there for some weeks. Herbert has decided to ask for more leave (He has plenty due to him on half pay) as he realizes that such strength as he has picked up, is only skin deep, so to speak, and that any extra fatigue bowls him over at once. A short stay here, and then back into the fight on India’s hot weather, would be of little use, so he will say he wants to stay away till the middle of August. I dont think the request is at likely to be refused, for the present Chief Secretary understands in what poor health Herbert has been the last few years, and he is the man whose word will really count. I am vastly relieved that Herbert will not be hurrying back into the heat, for I am positive that he would soon have collapsed again.
After moving so much, it is nice to feel we are settled here for a while, and that our next move will be one after which we can settle down for quite a while. The Franz Joseph Glacier is, from all accounts and from its pictures a glorious place. The glacier falls so steeply from the big snow mountains that it flows down through the great forests of the West Coast, which, though not really sub-tropical, have many features in common with the jungles of much hotter climates. They abound in tree fern, ferns and creepers of all sorts. We gather that there are walks of all descriptions, from climbs up the glacier to the snow mountains, to rambles through the forest.
26. 12. 40 This letter is getting done in snippets. I found myself getting sleepy last night, and this morning we decided to take the tram part way up the hills that surround Lyttleton Harbour, and walk on them, getting back for lunch. It was such a perfect day, and so lovely up on the hill tops, that we, and the Kents, who had gone with us, hated the thought of hurrying home for lunch. There is a little tea place where a road crosses the hills, and we asked whether we could get lunch there. The friendly propriatress said they do not do lunches, but she could give us sandwiches, scones, cake and tea. We said we would come back in about an hour and feed there, and then climbed a neighbouring hill top, from which we had a splendid view over the Canterbury Plains to the big mountains on the one hand, and down to the calm blue water of the harbour and the hills on the far side on the other. After lunch we climbed up a smaller hill, and reclined happily on the grass, but thinking much of all our friends and relations at home, and wishing we could transport them, for a time anyway, to such peaceful surroundings and perfect summer weather. It is odd to get in the way of thinking that we are twelve whole hours ahead of England in time, and that when we drank the health of “Absent Friends” at Christmas lunch, you were, most of you we hope, sleeping in reasonable safety, though nights are anything but safe in England now.
27.12.40. A visitor arrived to see us last evening, a Mr Buchanan, an elderly man, who is one of the originators of the Canterbury Mountaineering Club. I met him at the Club party on the night we arrived. He had called yesterday morning to ask us to go for a drive. He is a very charming and interesting person, and we enjoyed talking to him. He has an iron foundry, and gets or was getting some of his pig-iron from the Iron Works near Asansol and from Tata’s great works near Harry’s Tin-plate works at Golmuri.
We are thankful to see in the paper this morning that Hitler restrained his fury and did not try any blitzkriegs on Christmas Eve or Christmas day. Its another perfect day to-day, and we feel almost sorry not to make a day of it on the Hills again to-day, but this letter has been so long a-writing that I felt I did really want to finish it and post it. Also I found yesterday that I had walked the soles of my heavy shoes very thin, and furthermore on the grass hills, the leather soles become like glass, so I am having them rapidly resoled and nailed, and the cobbler (one of those nice shops where the men are sitting in front of a bench on stools, working in front of ones eyes) has promised to have them done by first thing to-morrow morning.
We were a bit late sending off our greeting telegram, and I fear it wont have reached home on Christmas day, but I hope it turned up not too late, and gave you some indication of where we are, and let you know that letters have been received and are greatly welcome. A big lot followed us here from Auckland, two weeks letters from Grace, Richard and Annette. The pleasure of getting them and hearing from you all, getting some notion of how the war is hitting you, and how cheerfully you put up with everything, is tremendous, however much it is mixed with regrets for the dangers and hardships which we cannot share.
Herbert seemed in excellent form after the long day out yesterday, and I hope that when we are able to lead that sort of life every day, as we shall when we are at the Glacier Hotel on the West Coast, I think he should make rapid progress. It does make such a difference being in a climate, which even if some of the days are hot, in the temperate climate sense, the air is cool and dry. Sydney while we were there, was too hot for real pleasure and profit. The difficulty about the N.Z. climate is the sudden changes. The inhabitants say that a morning may be hot, real mid-summer, and by evening a cold “southerly’ may spring up, and make one shiver inside a warm coat, so its wise always to have a coat or jersey of some sort with one. We had a taste of that just after we arrived here. The Sunday was lovely, the Monday was excessively hot and a bit stuffy, and Christmas Eve turned wet, and very cold. Christmas Day was perfect again.
It really is time to finish this. Its over-long already.
Our very best love, and good-wishes to you all,
LJT
From LJT to Annette
The Lodge. Christchurch.
New Zealand
Dec 29th 1940.
My darling Annette.
Its very difficult to find the words with which to express the feeling of delight at getting such a fine series of letters from you and Richard, Aunt and Romey, after being without news for so long. There is a great stirring of pity and anxiety, mixed with the delight, as we read of the dangers and discomforts, you have to put up with, and the hard work you are doing under difficult conditions. Out on the hill tops on these lovely days we have been enjoying, I have been wishing from the depths of my heart, that you could have been in my place. Its the sort of thing that I believe you love, apart from the fact that to all of you, now under the constant threat of raids, the peace and rest would be a boon beyond count. Walking home yesterday evening after a long tramp on the hills above Lyttleton Harbour, Mrs Kent said what a perfect day we had had, and added “The only flaw in everything, is that the people we love at home cannot share it, nor we help with what they have to (sorry for that mess). bear”. Your letters written during the month of Sept. and the first two weeks of October, give us a good impression of what conditions are like for people like yourself working away from London. We are both delighted at the tone of your letters. Dad was specially pleased at your remarks about being made so furious by the propaganda news films, and he entirely agrees with your sentiments He gets worried too, when people put forward theories about reforms of government methods after the war, not seeming to realize that they often advocate methods closely resembling the Nazi ideas. I was glad to hear from Aunt that my cable to you arrived at the right moment for your birthday. I so much wonder whether you were able to celebrate in any way. I hope you were. Thank you for letting us know about your allowance. Its good of you to say you do not need anything at the moment. I hope you did fill in the paper to that effect and send it to Grindlay’s, for otherwise they will have gone on paying your allowance as usual. I intend to put all we save in England into War Loan, so you will have the satisfaction of knowing that what you do not take, will go towards war purposes. Last night I came upstairs after our very early dinner, and spent no less that one and a half hours reading through all the letters that were waiting for us here, for the second time, and making a few notes of things I want to comment on in my answers. We do appreciate the fact that you write practically every week. I realize that it means a considerable effort when you have done a hard days’s or more still, a hard night’s work. Dad fully appreciates Mr Cooper’s pleasure in getting away from the telephone by working in the cellar and finding it the next best thing to Paradise. It is fun to hear that you were inspired by the book “Design” (which I have with me here but have not yet read) to re-arrange your room. Living so much in hotels and boarding houses, travelling on ships so often and fitting into other peoples’ houses, has given me a lot of practice in the sort of re-arranging you describe, and I have developed quite an eye for it, so that within a few minutes of going into a room, I get a notion of what to do with it. As far as I can see, Dad has none of this capacity at all. Perhaps he has never developed it because he has always had me there to do it for him. I am glad to hear that a Club has been formed in your office for organizing some sort of entertainments to while away the long winter evenings. I had wondered so often lately whether you would find it full and lonely during the winter. Its a blessing that you seem to have got a decent landlady. It makes such an enormous difference when one is in rooms. Under present conditions in England its a boon that she behaves with good sense about raids, too. Its interesting to hear that you dislike the sound of the syrens worse than that of the bursting bombs. Thank God you have, as I believe, good steady nerves, and plenty of self-control and common sense. Thinking of all you are doing makes us feel all the worse about holiday making out here. In spite of that, since nothing I could say would influence Dad towards trying to find some war-work here instead of returning to India, he has consented to ask for an extension of leave till mid-August. The progress he made while we were in the Hills in Java, was quickly dispelled by the six very hot days in Sourabaya, while we were waiting for a ship. Then, and on the voyage to Sydney, he got a return of running slight temperatures, followed by periods of being sub-normal and this combined with the realization that any day of extra fatigue, tired him out at once, brought home to him that two months in this good climate (which is about all we should have if we had to back by mid-April) was not going to be enough to set him up to face working right through the Hot weather and the Rains. I am thankful he will not be hurrying back – He seems a different person after a week in a place with a good climate and restful atmosphere. We shall get this in even greater perfection when we move over to the Franz Joseph Glacier a week to-morrow – There’s lots more to write abut but it must wait till next week.
Best love
Mother