The Townend Family Letters

1941 August

From LJT to Annette No 28

“Montpelier” Brisbane
August 1st 1941

My darling Annette

Last busy weeks in places are bad for letter-writing – so I dont suppose this will be much in the way of an epistle – Dad and I thought we should like to bring you and Romey each some little momento from Australia, but we did not feel that in War time we ought to spend very much money, so we have got you each a small black opal – (size in margin) and we will have them set for you in India – Since I have no intention of trusting them to the post, in these days, there is plenty of time for you to let us know how you would like them set. My idea was either a little finger ring or on a small plain gold safety pin – Will you let me know?

I am posting off to you a “Readers Digest” – the only one we have received since January – and a few Tourist leaflets about this part of Australia – The scenery all about here is so different from ones usual ideas of what Australia is like – Its tantalizing not to have more time for reading here, for Teresa has some interesting books on her shelves, especially a collection of books on China – The fact that we have now quite a number of friends in Brisbane, makes it easier to get away from poor old Cousin T. a bit, but she does’nt really like our going out. In the old days, I suppose, she would have hired a Companion and domineered over her to the last fraction of an inch. Australia does not grow meek characters easily – The men and women who have made the country have needed to be tough and independent, and the comparatively easy life in the modern cities has not done much at present to soften down those characteristics.

There’s a good deal of interest and excitement in this country about a visit, in the form of a lecture – tour by Dr. Koo – the Chinese Christian teacher – We listened to an address over the wireless, a couple of days ago on the subject of China and the War – and we found it dull and laboured. It was a brief – very brief resume of the history of China, since the new democracy pushed the Emperor and the old Dowager Empress out of power – but you or I could have compiled it from newspaper files or a handbook on modern Chinese history – and it was delivered without the slightest expression – I was laughing inwardly when the Archbishop’s wife yesterday said what a splendid talk it had been, and Teresa who had slept soundly through most of it, agreed heartidly! I have an idea that Australia is just beginning to approach the stage that America has been going through for some years past – that is a great desire for “culture” – and a willingness to listen to almost anyone who will give them lectures – (provided they do not make any criticisms of Australia) – Its undoubtedly a good thing, for this country needs a great deal more culture and to form the habit of reading – reading almost any thing, but good books for choice.

I am still hoping that one more mail will reach me here before we leave –

By the way – in case letters take very long – I had better send you good wishes well in advance for your birthday – I have asked Aunt to send you the usual little cheque and I hope the jumper and cardigan I posted will reach you safely – Best love, my dear. From Mother

Family letter from HPV

Brisbane, Queensland
Saturday, August 2nd

My dear Annette (handwritten salutation)

It is quite a time since I typed a circular letter to the family. The news has already been sent out that I have been devoting much time to the task of making a map and guide to the walks on Mt Tamborine; and though I do not say that this has really been the cause of my delinquencies it had something to do with it. A major cause was disgust with my inability to type without a mistake every other second. A third was that there was a run on the typewriter. A few days ago it seemed probable that for the moment I had struck a vein of skill in the typing line: and simultaneously I reverted to the pleasurable pastime of inventing typing exercises. There has, however, been a setback of the usual type. A long day’s outing in a motor (Mr Watson* took us to see his pig-farm, when he went down to inspect it on Friday -- that was only yesterday, though it seems a week ago) left me dead-beat and of course restored the depression that I had thought to have been rid of. The “day” was only a morning. All went well till we were on the way back and it struck someone that we ought to see a certain view. This led to a diversion in order to see it: and of a sudden I felt punctured. A poor reward after filling myself with pounds worth of mixed vitamins! It is to be said that the sojourn at Mt. Tamborine had the result of leaving me full of energy and moral uplift. Probably this was the usual thing experienced after coming down from a mountain visit and bore no relation to the matter of my general health; but the setback is disappointing. A great tonic and source of delight was the reading of the book on Humus, “Agricultural Testament” by Sir Albert Howard, who wrote the work from which I took all those beautiful thoughts about humus-making when I was on leave last time. This is a fascinating book. So much so that I sallied out and tried to buy a copy. But they had none in stock. As regards the actual craft of making the stuff it really says nothing new, though it remarks that the vegetable ingredients should be about 30 to 1 of animal instead of 12 to 1 as I have been telling people, but it is full of agreeable tit-bits about this and that. Whether anyone but Howard and his devotees is anything but an ass, why Adco is poor stuff by comparison with humus, why trees dislike water-logging, how diseases of plants and the animals fed on them disappear before the use of humus or of muck that enables it to form . . . . and many other fascinating subjects. When I get back to India I must see to putting copies of this into all the district office libraries and I shall harangue the Chief Secretary about getting the doctrine that is preached in the book hammered into the young officers . . . especially the Bengalis. It will be interesting too to see what use has been made of my Bengali pamphlet on the making of humus: I suspect none. Howard has used a lot of the results gained by Watson* from whom I obtained the first culture for my humus pits; and he has either been mislead by Watson or has suppressed the truth, for he quotes as a success an experiment at a municipal sewage ground that came to an untimely end as soon as I left the secretariat and was unable to procure more money grants from Finance for it. If I have the energy I shall put pressure on a landlord or two to try the stuff on a paddy field: not that I think it likely to be of much practical use (for the problem of finding enough green stuff to compost for large fields would be insuperable) but for the intellectual pleasure of seeing what the yield would be. Which reminds me that one of the solaces of my return to work, and I cannot conceive myself doing anything of the sort again, is the prospect of adding another year’s figures to my statistics of rice cultivation. Provided that the old gentleman whose records I have been using has not been stimulated by my interest in his results to fudge them happily. It might be a good thing to try to get him some form of decoration. Many have had them who have done less. The labour of keeping detailed records year after year (with no one reading them till I arose a mother in Israel) must have been devastating. The horrid thought has just seized me that I have packed my eraser and that there is therefore no way of cleaning all this up as I should do in spite of the injunctions of the book. This is no longer Saturday. Teresa came in at the top of this page and said “Oh, you are busy: I shall not interrupt”. only to sit down and talk hard about her money difficulties. Her method of dealing with a financial crisis due to dividends not being paid in England by many companies is to lament it long and loud and then to go out and buy a whole lot of useless things expensively. I renounced the letter until after dinner, forgetting that we were engaged to go out to the Watsons’ for the evening. It is to be said that in order to be sure of avoiding even a glance at the matter that I was turning out I sat in the dark: to my growing annoyance. Some of the mistakes might otherwise have been avoided. We do not leave till Thursday but we have to send off the stuff that is to travel by sea no later than tomorrow. It is to be dispatched via Sydney and the boats for Sydney go at comparatively rare intervals from here. Unless we are prepared to pay over three shillings a pound for excess, we can send by plane no more than 44 pounds: and it is quite an affair trying to pack this amount and no more when we have no scales. Visits to a neighboring chemist who has a weighing machine are the solution . It is a nuisance that I feel the cold so much: I scarcely dare to send off my thick pyjamas and thick underclothes on the chance that without them I might escape a chill, and I cannot face the prospect of either jettisoning them or paying by the pound for their transport. It remains only to send them by post to myself in Calcutta; and this also is annoying because unless the rules are relaxed I shall have to pay customs duty on them. The occasion is notable because when the time came to pack them I summoned up energy to throw away a fine collection of used razor blades. It inspires an all-alphabet exercise: thus.

“To save weight their father jettisoned his prized collection of used razor blades when he was packing for the voyage by Quantas Airways to Calcutta and thereupon became excessively moody and dejected.” Not that this would take high marks as an exercise: for it is well known that it is not good style to rely on an -ing for the g and it is cheating to add a subsidiary clause when the original sentence is found to lack an M and an X.

Teresa insists that I should type her a copy of the A for ‘osses alphabet which the Watson boys were reciting off a gramophone record at Tamborine. I shall make spares for the family, because unless he has heard it already (and it is quite likely that he has seeing what his taste in wireless is) my brother Parp will be much amused. I was myself. The Watsons were, are, a most charming family, and we are quite grieved to be leaving them with no great chance of seeing them again, unless the boys come to England to study medicine or agriculture after the war. He is the recognized leader of the Australian pig-industry; and is the personification of common-sense, and of calm. When he took us over his pig-farm, one of two and the smaller one, I admired all that I saw but thanked Heaven that my fate has led me to deal with Bengalis rather than with pigs. They looked like so many neutrals in their fattening pens, all serene that they were as safe as could be against sudden death or trouble so long as they filled their bellies and kept their eyes shut. The reflection filled me with gloom. I did not jump at Mr. Watson’s hint that he could take me to see a slaughter house of which Brisbane is proud. It would have turned me. He did however take me to see the head of the forest Dept of Queensland who took a copy of my Tamborine Guide, partly to see what I had said about his National Parks up there and partly with the idea of getting the Tourist Bureau to publish the Guide. The head had known a lot of Indian Forest Dept. men whom we have met, among them Mr. Shebbeare, whom we have known for ages, and he was interesting about them.

This afternoon we were taken by a Girl Guide officer to see Koala bears. Two were being nursed by a boy and of these one had a youngster clinging to her. They were in a small private zoo, a picnic centre some miles out. Dull beasts. Sleepers and some snorers. It is only because they looked stuffed and helpless that they became popular. There were also brightly colored parrots.

Here is the Aussie alphabet list:
A for ‘osses
B for mutton
C for yourself
Df or dumb (Dformity)
Eve for Adam
F forvescent
Gfo’ Police
H for himself
Ifor Novello
Jfor Oranges
K francis
L for leather
M fo’sis
N fro dig
Ofer the garden wall
P for a penny
Q for billiards
R fo’ mo
S for you
T for two
U fa films
Vfo’ la France!
W for a penny (said by the Watson boys to be a reference to the Australian National Game of Twolep.
X for breakfast
Yfor husband
Z for breezes
(handwritten annotation) Send this onto Dickon if you think that it will amuse him. I am short of a copy owing to misfortune with the carbons.
Packing finished and all luggage dispatched, except that which will go in the plane with us. The sensation of the impending end of an epoch, and magically I feel as if the war was ending too. A great pleasure having letters from Annette and Aunt this evening. Bless them.

A pity that I didn’t know that Joan would not be writing her circular letter this time: I might have given our news instead of meandering. However the news was no more interesting. A book called “Soil and sense” by Michael Graham struck me as good. It does not come up to the other (for thought it praises humus it gives no detail about it) but it has some fascinating stuff about grass lands: of no practical application in Bengal of course.

The luggage weighing was achieved with converse with the chemist feminine. She told tales of cures effected by calcium – low blood pressure cures: I ended purchasing anything except the glucose that I wanted from the start. I shall devour the tin before the plane goes even if it means making myself sick with the stuff daily.

I don’t like the paper bag idea on planes.

A letter from you has just arrived. Congratulations on the promotion.

Much love
Dad

*Different people, of course.

From LJT to Annette

“Montpelier”
Wickham Terrace, B17
Brisbane
Aug 4th 1941

My darling Annette

There was a mistake about the last food parcels that were sent – I ordered cheese only – 5 lbs in each – by letter from Tamborine, and the firm Allen and Stark, despatched parcels containing 2 lbs each, informing me at the same time that only 2 lbs of any one sort of commodity could be sent in one parcel. I have just sent off another mixed parcel to you, actually it is addressed to Richard c/o of you – as there seems to be some rule about not sending food parcels to the same person too frequently – However the contents of the parcel are for your use, as Dicky no doubt gets all the food he wants – I hope what I have sent will reach you and prove useful – Cheese – Plain Chocolate Honey and Beef cubes –

We have been busy with our luggage. Our stuff to go by sea has to go to-day in order to get a boat at Sydney – so we had to pack the suitcases for Air travel as well and take them down to the chemist a door or two away to weigh them, and make sure they were not too heavy.

I shall be glad to get away now. It was a pity that our last week in Australia had to be spent with poor old Cousin T – for she irritates me beyond (no – almost beyond all endurance – She is so like Auntie May – Its such a pity that she has to use all accounts of places she has seen and things she has done to magnify her own importance – It results in giving one a feeling of repulsion, instead of arousing keen interest. Mr and Mrs Watson – the people we met at Tamborine have been so good to us

Best love from Mother

Did I ask you to send your finger size, if you would like the opal set as a ring? Any jeweller will have a card with standard sizes and you could send the number.

From LJT to Annette

“Montpelier”
Wickham Terrace, B17
Brisbane

Aug 5th 1941.

Darling Annette

Your letter of May 21st, enclosed in aunts of June 4th arrived last evening, just after I had dropped Aunt’s letter into the hotel letter box – from which, though, I was able to retrieve it. Its good to have had news of you all, before we leave, and to know that the next batch of letters and photos of the wedding are being sent to India, so that I shant be feeling we may have missed letters here – Congratulations on being a Junior Assistant! I’m awfully glad the promotion went through – and I’m also very glad to hear that Anne Toulmin is now at Bletchley. I’m sure it will be a pleasure to you both to be to-gether. Do give her my greetings.

Its good to hear that you seem to have a reasonable amount of social doings so that life is not just one grind of work and sleep – I should think on the whole that sleeping in the day and having the evenings free for “doings” now that it is light so late, must be preferable to having your waking hours in the early morning only I am sorry to hear that Gwen has at last left Highways. it must mean a great deal of hard work for Aunt – I do wish I were there to help.

We have been in the Bank for ages this morning. Officials of all sorts in Australia are very informal and friendly and everyone seemed to have time to chat and ask how we liked Australia etc etc Jokes were cracked about the different currencies we wanted – just a little pocket money for drinks, taxis or such at the different places where we stay – “What about taking a few thousand yen in case the Japs have turned up in some place where you land?” – It will be rather a thrill flying over all these places which are so much in the news. One the whole the world situation seems to make one feel rather more cheerful. If war comes with the Japs, it will be interesting to see how their fighting qualities stand up to British Australian and American troops. From all accounts the Jap armies have not done too brilliantly in China –

Best love –
Mother

Family letter from HPV

Calcutta. Again!
August 14th 1941.

My Dear Annette (handwritten salutation)

We arrived safe and not altogether sound on the river near the Bally bridge the day before yesterday. Six days en route. The first three for me were purgatory. I lost my breakfast on the first day some hours out of Brisbane. And with less violence I lost my lunch. On the second day all was lost from the beginning: but it was so bumpy over the Arnhem Land peninsula (350 miles with no human habitation, says your mother, but it made no difference to me since I felt incapable of looking out anyhow) that all in the plane lamented and most fell. Even on the third day when we passed over the Dutch islands and all said that the passage was really smooth I was a victim and so mightily that I could eat nothing: this represented a depth of woe to which I have never fallen on a ship, where as you know it is my rule to eat heartily even if nothing stays by me. The goal of that day’s journey was Sourabaya, where we spent those six stiflingly hot days in November last: and the next morning gloom at the thought of another day’s suffering was so intense that I sank to swallowing the dope presented by the steward. It worked. I escaped sickness that day (Singapore) and the next (Rangoon) thanks to the same precaution; and even on the last day, though there were moments of uncertainty, I held fast. At Rangoon and on the first evening after our arrival here, the room waved round me, like the turtle soup of the Bab Ballad; I was perhaps bad tempered yesterday morning but sleep all the afternoon and most of the night did the trick and today I am sufficiently serene to face the world without open shame. I have no clothes to speak of. The boxes sent off from Sydney have not arrived yet; we left them with the agents at the beginning of June; and the clothes on which I relied are in them. If one can call it reliance mentally to write them off altogether, as I believe I had done. Verdict on the air trip: there was no alternative but it was mostly horrid. Much less interesting to be in a big sea-plane than in a small Moth; one sees so much less and is so much more remote. The islands were beautiful, in spite of the fact that I saw them through glazed eyes; and the different types of cultivation were remarkably interesting to contrast. Funny that rice-fields in Java, Straits Settlements and Burma should all be so different from each other and from those in Bengal. For that matter the fields in the Sunderbunds over which we flew towards Calcutta differed radically from those of Western Bengal. I did not know as we looked down on the Sunderbunds that within a few days I should be in charge of the Division in which they are situated; but so it is. Harry revealed to me almost as soon as I arrived that I had been gazetted to the Presidency Division. That means living in Calcutta. No doubt this is in itself a good thing; your mother is pleased, partly for general reasons and partly because it will mean her being able to do some real war-work instead of footling about as she did in Chinsurah, trying to get some response from Purdah women. I am sorry. It means harder work learning up the names, capacity, history and conduct of several hundred new officers, and studying the problems of areas of which I know practically nothing; and it means leaving the areas of my schemes which are a comfort to me even though now there is no hope of anything being done about them. Also there is less scope for making my beloved humus in a town garden than in that huge compound at Chinsura. However the chief grief is the leaving the area covered by my schemes and by my statistics of rainfall and paddy outturn. Shall I now ever write a Manual on the working of my Development Act? Time for dinner, or rather to show myself before dinner. I have not said that we are staying with Harry and Winsome. On the whole although this looks so ragged I am typing with more decision and skill than before. I am going faster.

August 15th
On the evening after our arrival Mrs Haldar came in to discuss plans about our furniture which they are using at Chinsurah; it seemed to me that he real meaning of her assurances that of course they could spare it was a hope that we would not take it, or not take it just now. Dash and Gurner came in to dinner and Idris Matthews who had dropped in to see us was asked by Winsome to stay on also.

Apparently not much has happened since we left but I suspect that as time passes we shall find that they have forgotten many items which are worth mentioning. By not taking over charge on the day after we arrived I have sacrificed six or seven pounds and have astonished Dash who is of opinion that I might have rested just as easily after taking over charge as before; but my conscience stood in the way.

Our arrival coincided with a rush on the petrol pumps, in anticipation of rationing which begins today. This has meant that we have not been able to get any petrol beyond the small amount brought by our driver from Chinsurah (every pump visited by us was announced by the man in charge to be dry -- either because it was or because the stocks were reserved for regular customers) and, in addition, we have not been able to get coupons because the documents relating to the car have to be produced first and all these are packed away somewhere in our boxes. Complaints are loud that the rationing has been mismanaged. There is supposed to be a reduction of 25 percent but averages have a way of working out wrongly and most people who use their cars for work are saying that the cut works out more like 60. How much more convenient to me it would have been if I had been left at Chinsurah, where my office was within a couple of hundred yards from the house and no motor was needed except for visits to Calcutta and for tours. I wonder if in this job I am provided with a portable typewriter as I was in the last. I believe that I have reached the stage when with assiduity and practice I can manage quite well. Harry contests the idea that my alphabetical sentences are of much use. Me, I regret rather that for some weeks I have neglected altogether the agreeable pursuit of typing them backwards as well as forwards. This reminds me that I have bought a book on spelling. To settle the arguments which arise when your mother asks me how to spell anything. It suggests as means of learning to spell the device of spelling words backwards as well as forwards . . . . a thing that seems to me no less than absurd. I shall probably adopt the idea. One of my first acts here was to go to Newmans, the booksellers, and order the Humus book. It is costly. I found there that my rupee notes were Burmese and not really current in India; the currency restrictions work out expensively, for we had to cash a cheque for five pounds in Rangoon and it works out that for an expenditure of about six rupees there we lose nearly two in exchange. At Singapore and at Rangoon they took all our foreign currency away from us when we landed; at the former place we were all right, having some Straits dollars, but at Rangoon we had to change a traveller’s cheque with the loss aforesaid, while the passengers who held dollars (American or Straits) or letters of credit were left penniless. Letters of credit are no use on an air trip because the plane never arrives anywhere while the banks are open.

At that moment I heard genial voices outside the house and looked out to see Harry and Winsome playing with the new bicycle purchased as a device for evading the difficulties caused by the petrol shortage. I was in pyjamas. Talk about this and that, especially abuse of the practice of writing so much on a page, and some advice about more paragraphs. Very wise. I was deceived however; for although Harry was arrayed only in shirt and shorts he had no intention of changing before breakfast. It was a rush to get ready in time, and it has been a rush since. I have just had Stevens who has been working as Presidency Commissioner lately on the phone and learnt from him that he has four appeals fixed for this afternoon. And to allow him to decide these I shall not take over till tomorrow.

Everyone exclaims that I look very well. The fact is that I am a rich red. My temper is not of the best now that I am back in this damp heat; but otherwise there seems to be nothing wrong. The effects of the air-sickness have worn off. I go to the dentist this morning, chiefly as a precaution. Speaking of temper, when I referred to the time when I had given up being irritable, Joan remarked that it must have been while she was away. A chilling response, because the occasion was while we were at Mandeville Gardens; I gave up smoking and being irritable on the same day and have not smoked since.

No more for this week. It would have been better if I had made some notes of our recent doings before I started on this but I am relying on the circular family letter giving all the real news.

Much love
Dad

Family letter  from LJT No 28 (I’m not positive about this.  I did not bring a copy of last week’s letter)

7 Alipore Road

Calcutta,

August 15th 1941

My Dears,

The holiday is over, and we are back in a sort of life that is so familiar.  Already the trip by air seems like a dream, - - a bad one in places and the months in New Zealand and Australia become remote, as the daily doings here close in on us.  We were greeted by the news that we are not to go back to Chinsurah, but Herbert is to be Commissioner of the presidency Division, a group of districts in Southern and Central Bengal, with headquarters in Calcutta.  Herbert is sorry.  He does not want to leave the part of the world where experiments are being made with irrigation.  He thinks that it will be tiring to have to learn about a new Division.  I sympathize with him on these points, but in other ways I think Calcutta will be better for him.  The few people we found congenial in Chinsurah have gone, and it was pretty dull even when they were there.  Severe petrol rationing has just come into force in India, and we should not have been able to come into Calcutta every week or so to shop and see our friends, nor would they have been able to come and visit us, as they used to do.  Here we are near everybody and shall be able to use trams and bicycles when we have not enough petrol.  I am sure it is good for Herbert to see people other than his official subordinates, and we are only five minutes walk from the Saturday Club when living at 8 Theatre Road, the Commissioner’s House, so that it well be easy to get along there for a bathe when we feel inclined.  A good deal of the touring in this Division is done by launch, so it well be easier than having to do it all by car.  The chief reason I am glad is that it well enable me to take on a definite job at the Red cross, and do some war work of a more satisfactory nature than was possible at Chinsurah.  I hope therefore that on the whole the change is one for the good of both of us.

No 8 Theatre Rd is one of Calcutta’s old and very large houses.  There are lots of spare rooms, so we have asked Idris Matthews if he would like to come and live with us, instead of at the Club, as he is doing at present, and he seems genuinely delighted at the idea.  For the next week I shall be busy getting the house straight, and then I shall start at the Red Cross.

Perhaps you have realized that I have jumped the attempt to give you any impression of the journey by air, but I must do it now or I never shall.  The poor Herbert, as those of you to whom he has written will know, was very, very air-sick for the first three days, far worse than he ever has been at sea.  I, on the other hand, survived far better than I do at sea.  I felt a little uncomfortable the first afternoon, and was sick the second afternoon, when the air was very bumpy before we reached Darwin.  After that either I got used to the motion, or the anti-airsickness tablets administered by the steward were efficacious, for I felt no more discomfort.  The flying boats are wonderfully roomy.  Normally they carry 17 passengers, pilot, assistant pilot, wireless officer, purser and steward.  The drawback after being used to a small plane like the Hornet, from which one can see in every direction, except immediately behind one, is the rather limited vision, through comparatively small windows.  Another drawback is that there is too much noise to carry on long conversations without getting tired.  Having to show passports and pass through customs each evening and morning is bothersome too, and on the whole we both think that we prefer sea travel.  All the same, I am glad to have done this journey by air and I did find it very interesting.

We rose into the air off the Brisbane River exactly at twelve o’clock on Thursday the 7th August.  The whirring start of the engines, the rush along the surface of the water, and the big waves surging past the windows at the take off, are exciting, and I like the tilt of the plane circling to get her course.  There is something rather fascinating about seeing towns, roads, docks and the horizon apparently going mad and tipping up on end.  Our first day took us over country and along a coast much like the country we had passed through for several hundred miles south of Brisbane.  There were dairy farms, banana plantations, sugar cane fields, and forest, sometimes dense, and sometimes the open gum tree forest, with grass showing between the trees.  There were mountains, flat-topped like Tamborine, and others finishing in the orthodox peaks.  The sea was blue with borders of white sand and white breakers.  Misty islands lay out to sea.  We dropped down on to the many-armed harbour at Gladstone, and were taken for a little cruise in a launch, while the plane refuelled.  Wooded hills came down to the waters edge, and we did not see very much of the town.  Once we were up in the air again, lunch was served to us on the little folding tables, which are in front of each seat.  Soup, was followed by a choice of cold meats and different salads.  Then a sweet, cheese, biscuits and coffee.  It must have been as we were eating lunch that we passed once more back into the tropics.  The town of Rockhampton is just inside the tropics, and is a great port for the export of wool and meat.  It lies on a plain, surrounded by a circle of hills, and is known as the city of the three “S es” Sin, Sweat and Sand.  Cutting across a peninsular, we lost sight of the sea for awhile, and looked down on fine forest covered mountains.  From here on to Townsville the country seemed all forest, sometimes quite dense, sometimes open, and the booklet we were given told us that it is all grazing country.  Houses were few and far between, and neither cattle nor sheep were visible from the height at which we were flying.  There’s a fine stretch of coast, bays and headlands and a number of towns.  The river deltas, with muddy channels and mangrove swamp, were queer and unattractive looking.  The harbour at Townsville was different from what I expected.  Out from a flat coast, protected by several hilly islands, breakwaters have been run out to enclose a big rectangle of sea, in front of a muddy river estuary.  When we landed just after five o’clock, the sea was ruffled by a good breeze, and looked dark indigo.  Even from the launch we could see the thing that we shall probably remember, when we have forgotten everything else about Townsville.  A rock cliff about a hundred feet high and perhaps three hundred feet long, was one great blaze of magnificent bourgainvillias.  Scarlet, pink and purple, they climbed up it from below, and cascaded down it from the top.  I dont think I have ever seen such a riot of colour.  As soon as we had had a cup of tea in the hotel, we walked along to look at it at close quarters, and marvelled at it all the more.  Professor Goddard and his wife, whom we liked so much at Brisbane, and who gave a little cocktail party as a farewell to us the night before we left, had telegraphed to friends of theirs in Townsville, to look us up.  Over the phone they greeted us, and suggested coming to see us after dinner, at 7.30 (We were still in the land of early evening meals).  They came with a car, and suggested taking us for a run up to the top of the rocky thousand foot high hill which stands right in the middle of the town.  It was a wonderful night of full moon and cool breezes.  The tide was full and the river brimming.  The lights of the town twinkled below us on every side.  It was a charming outing, and made all the nicer by the fact that our young host and hostess were both so nice.  They were ex-pupils of Professor Goddard’s and like him, keenly interested in everything.  On the way home we dropped into their house for evening tea, and did not get back to the hotel till 11.30, later than we had intended to be, for we had to rise at 5.30, and leave the hotel at 6.15, after early morning tea and toast.  Breakfast was served on the plane.  If you look at a map you will see that Townsville is up on the top of the bend of Australia, just at the foot of the big peninsular that sticks up to the East of the gulf of Carpentaria.  It was across the base of this peninsular to Karumba on the Gulf, that our first few hours flying took us.  West of Townsville we passed over a fine confusion of mountains, averaging about 3,000 ft in height, and displaying little but forest.  Once or twice I caught a glimpse of a track but in those first 80 miles I saw only about three houses in clearings in the forest.  As the country flattened out, and was veined by rivers and showed lagoons and water holes, it was interesting to see the cattle tracks converging towards the water.  From the air the country appeared to be dry brownish land dotted with trees.  I spotted one or two big Station Houses, but even from a plane which eats up distance, they seemed so far apart.  Back of Karumba was desolate looking swamp, bare and salty looking in places, and covered with mangroves in others.  We came down on the Norman River, and were whisked ashore in a launch, and given ten minutes for a stroll.  Karumba is little but the Flying Boat Base, and a meat works.  Life must be strange there.  Our next stretch was across the Gulf of Carpentaria, and the air was rough, and made the plane move most uncomfortably, so that I refused lunch.  We came down just before lunch at Groots Eylandt, an Island near the West Coast of the Gulf.  There is nothing here but the Flying Boat Base.  We were taken for a short cruise, across a wide dark blue Bay ruffled by a stiff breeze.  The last lap of that day’s journey was terrible for Herbert, and unpleasant for me, for it was very rough and we were both very sick!  I dont think we missed much by not being able to look out much, for Arnhem Land, the peninsular which sticks up on West of the Gulf of Carpentaria, is a strange desolate country, a plateau clothed with sparse forest.  Uninhabited for 350 miles, so the booklet tells us.  It is only when one gets to within abut 100 miles of Darwin and the land flattens out into a plain, that it becomes good grazing country.  Darwin was different from my expectations.  I had pictured it a town of untidy wooden shacks, set in a desert land.  It is not desert at all.  Green forests come down to the edge of the water, and low hills break up the landscape.  Possibly the town was as I had pictured till recent years, when it became an important Air Base, and Naval and Military station.  Under the auspices of the Airways, a good modern hotel has been built, which, under present war-time conditions, is being strained to the utmost to cope with the trade brought by the fighting services.  There are decent roads, plenty of flowering trees, and gay gardens.  In mid-winter, that is early August, the climate in the late afternoon was delightful, and with the bed out on what Americans would call a sleeping-porch, I not only covered myself with a sheet, but during the night, had to pull up a heavy linen bed-spread as well.  In summer it must be hellishly hot there.

We saw our last of Australia a few minutes after taking the air on Saturday morning, and had a long stretch over the sea, before sighting the island of Timor.  The atmosphere had changed.  The crystal clear air of Australia, which seems to retain something of its sparkling quality even in the hot places, had given place to the heavy moisture laden atmosphere with which we are so familiar in Bengal.  Visibility was not so good.  Distant landscapes were shadowy and there was no clear line of horizon.  Sea and sky melted into one another.

Over the Western point of Timor it was bumpy.  We looked down on jolly brownish hills, with clustered villages and lots of little paths wandering between them.  The Flying Boat base, is some way from the town of Koepang, and we did not see much but typical native huts, so pretty in their earth walls and thatched roofs, after the tin roofed shacks of Australia.  A wide harbour fringed with coconut palms was our landing place, and a short turn in a launch made a nice little break.  From here on to Sourabaya (The Airways map uses the English form of spelling) we passed over or near island after island.  Cutting across the end of Soembawa, we landed at Bima.  There were wooded mountains, and ridges, and excellent looking cultivation in the valleys.  It looked homely and snug after the emptiness of Australia, but I’d hate to live always in that damp heat, however lush the land.  We were allowed a walk on a long pier at Bima, and looked through an iron gate at the end into a quiet street, where small open carriages with striped awnings, and pulled each by a pair of minute ponies, were plying for hire, and slim neat Malays, in their flowered skirts and short jackets squatted in groups or walked about with baskets on their heads.  In the afternoon we skirted Bali.  The pilot did not fly over it, because whenever we flew over land, we were badly bumped.  Sourabaya looked so familiar, and the formalities concerning our arrival were excellently arranged.  We had given over any money other than Dutch into the keeping of the Purser during the day, and were excused customs.  We sat in a pleasant sort of waiting room looking over the harbour, drinking excellent cold orange drinks supplied by the Airways, and merely had to go into one office and declare that we were not carrying any foreign money, and then we were put into taxis and driven to the all too familiar Hotel Oranje, where we spent six steamy days in November waiting for our boat.  The climate in August is much better, in fact it was not unpleasant.  Some of our fellow passengers hired cars and went for a long drive, but we preferred to have a leisurely tea, and go for a stroll.

Rather than keep this letter waiting for days to finish the account of our trip, I am going to send it off, and continue the serial next week.  There are several busy days ahead of me.  To-morrow I have to unpack household goods.  In the enormous house which will be ours for the next period of our lives, there is a complete set of furniture belonging to the man who was acting as Commissioner recently, and who asks if he may leave it with us for six weeks or so, till he finishes a temporary appointment in Jalpaiguri.  This suits us well, for it means we can move in at once, and get our furniture from Chinsurah at our leisure.  Mogul went up to Chinsurah to-day to bring down all our boxes of household stuff on a lorry.  On Sunday I hope the first consignment of our own stuff will arrive, and on Monday we intend to move in.  Bhim Das, our bearer fell sick in the train on his way to Calcutta, and is being looked after by a relation.  I fear he has dysentery, but maybe its only a bad attack of diarrhoea.  Its awkward being without him when there is so much to do.  Its lovely to have Harry and Winsome here and to be able to stay with them, while we settle in.

Best love,

LJT

Family letter from HPV

Calcutta
August 15th 1941

My dear Annette

Perhaps you will have realized that I am not typing on my own machine. A week ago Coralie produced her old machine just overhauled by the Remington and after seeing that the cost of new rollers was not excessive I decided to go a bust and have mine done.

Her machine was of the same type as that on which I had started at Chinsura to tuype out the collection of Hindustani words for the house-hold which I made years ago. So I seized the chance of going on with the task and to my astonishment finished it off yesterday; it was just in time, for the typewriter went off to Chinsura this afternoon, reclaimed by its real owner Bobbie Taylor.

Many dragon flies hover round the house; why I do not know. This reminded Coralie of their custom at Sardah where the police-training school is; they have a passion for settling on the points of bayonets when men are drilling. To every bayonet its dragon-fly; pretty to see.

The real news of this week is that Mrs Fox whom we met at Mt. Tamborine has written a letter which gives an account of her last visit to the place. She says that my Guide to Tamborine mountain, so far from having been cast aside lives on the counter of the hotel office and is in great demand by the persons staying there. This has pleased me more than you might think. Joan says that it is ridiculous for a total stranger to the place to teach the inhabitants what there is to see in it; but I think that it is usual for guidebooks to be written by strangers.

She thought that this tale, true as it is, was funny. When Indian ministers first came into the secretariat they were provided with spittoons, finely made of brass; and then lest there might be suggestions of racial contempt every European Honourable Member was provided with one too.

The horrible tom-cat prowls round and round; Mogul gave an imitation of him creeping “chupi, chupi, chupi.” The ordinary word is “chup” as you may know; and the diminutive is quaintly comic.

Joan wanted to discourse on the subject of mock turtle soup and to do so with the greater clearness wished to know what the Hindustani for turtle was. So she asked Mogul, explaining that it was a beast like the tortoise which he has seen in the Zoo. But she said it had not feet but flippers. He understood at once, he said, and he started telling the cook all about it; it was an animal such as they had seen at Hagenbeck’s circus which did juggling tricks with its nose. The cook was completely baffled by the problem of procuring a seal in Calcutta and Joan by the impossibility of ridding Mogul’s mind of the fixed idea: so the turtle soup was renounced for the time being.

Me, I resumed the enquiry as to the Hindustani for turtle soup because it occurred to me that the word which I had put down in my list might after all mean tortoise. I did not get much change out of Mogul, who merely said in a grand way that some people ate one and some another. The thing that differentiates them appears to be ability to pull the head into the shell; but Mogul drifted off into a disquisition about an animal that turned out to be a crab and I gave up.

Know that I have the use of the typewriter only because Joan has gone out to the movies. It turns out that I did well to buy one of my own; not that I shall ever get my money’s worth out of it, but that she likes having undisturbed use of her own.

Much love
Dad

From LJT to Annette No 28 (?)

7 Alipore Rd, Calcutta.
August 16th 1941.

My darling Annette,

Dont anticipate a proper letter, for this is only a message of affection. the family’s ears should have been burning these last few days for with H.D. and Winsome we have been talking so much about you all. Report says there has been no mail from England for three weeks or more, so we are hopeful of something soon. Thank goodness for almost daily remarks in the paper, “Enemy activity was slight over Britain last night” Though I suppose we must look upon it only as a lull, it must be a great boon to have a long period of fairly decent nights.

Dad has bought me a present, Its a book: “Teach Yourself to spell” by K.D.Baron. I have scarcely had time to look at it yet, but I am going to make an effort as soon as we are settled in our new home. Its absurd that I should have let such a weakness conquer me all these years.

The Air-sickness has made Dad feel dim, and the damp hot green-house atmosphere has done nothing to help him pull up, so he is starting work without feeling much of the benefit of his holiday. Its bad luck. Thank goodness I did not persuade him to travel by air, just for fun. If I had I should feel remorseful to a most uncomfortable degree. As it was, we had no choice.

Best love, dear daughter,
From
Mother

From LJT to Romey

7 Alipore Rd, Calcutta
August 16, 1941

My darling Romey,

Since we arrived here, we have been talking such a lot about you and John and Cousin Susie and Helen, with H.D. and Winsome. After months amongst strangers, however charming, it is nice to be with people who know one’s home folk and can share one’s family interests. You may guess that some very complimentary things have been said about Susie and Helen, and perhaps one or two about Romey too!
Now, as I’ve not much time for a personal letter this week, I will get straight on to business. Waiting for me here, was the Annual statement from the Eastern Trust Co. It shows that on Dec 15th last, there was a balance of $334.68 standing to our credit. This is after your quarterly allowance had been paid. I want Cousin Susie and you to bear in mind that that money is available for anything you might need it for. Whether there will be a fresh balance at the end of this year, I do not yet know. The actual saving in 1940 was about $100, the rest being the accumulation from previous year or years.
Dad has bought me a present. It is a book, “Teach Yourself to Spell” by K.D. Baron. Since arriving, I have been so busy, I have scarcely had time to look at it, but I do intend to study it presently, and see if with a little industry and will power, I can overcome my dreadful fault of bad spelling.
Wasn’t it bad luck that Dad was so dreadfully air-sick? It has quite knocked him up. Thank goodness we came by air of necessity, for if we had chosen it on my suggestion, just for fun, I should have felt great remorse. Coming suddenly from the clear bracing air of Australia into the steamy hothouse atmosphere of the late rains in Bengal, is trying in itself, but we will soon get accustomed to it once more.
The fact of having to take over a new Division is bothering Dad. He hates changes, you know. He likes a routine, and to have all his things just exactly so. It won’t be long now before he has all his belongings about him. He will have a lovely big dressing-room-study in our new home. There are so many rooms, we can spread as much as we like.
The others have gone to Tolly, but I stayed home to finish the letters, and I have one more to do to Dicky before they return.

Love to Susie and Helen as well as to your dear self,
From, Mother

From LJT to Annette

8 Theatre Rd, Calcutta
Aug 21st 1941

My darling Annette

Letters came so unexpectedly in the midst of the turmoil of unpacking and getting this huge house put to rights, that they brought a particular pleasure and I joyfully stopped all my activities and went and sat under a fan, creating a little oasis of quiet round me, while I drank in all the news from hom – The first two wedding photos with Aunt’s letter of June 20th and your of June 12th were those that came. Its most interesting to see the photos – Dad has not got used to small hats, rather perched on the head, and for some reason thinks you look Austrian. Is there just a slightly Tyrolese look to your hat? Also he says – “Is she wearing ear-rings?” – I have not got a magnifying glass with me at the moment and cant see, but I pointed out that, though he could extract a promise from me before we were married, that I would not wear ear-rings, no such bargain could be extracted from you before you entered the world as our daughter. From the small picture I have the impression that you look well and cheerful and alto-gether a very satisfactory person!

We have not seen English papers for so long, that I had not heard of the Anglo-Polish Ballet – now – with Russia and Poland friends once more, I suppose Russian and Polish Ballets will be able to hob-nob and exchange ideas. I listened in to Moscow for a short time last night. There was rather a jolly marching song – one deep voiced man, solo, with no instrumental accompaniment, but a chorus background of many voices in unison – Then there was a talk of Soviet Air Power, but as it was the simplest account of how everything the Germans have done, had been done first by the Russians, I felt I knew it before and switched over to some music from Saigong. An odd feature of this war is the way one can sit in some peaceful spot and listen to people playing and singing in towns where the war tension is close and intense. One small pleasure in being back again, is to have control of my own wireless. My anxiety is that Dad seems very exhausted already. Of course its a big thing taking over a new Division and its specially hard in this case, for there have been several Commissioners “acting” for short periods. The Governor has chosen to go on tour through a couple of Dad’s districts next week and that is making a mass of extra work of a futile kind. However our friends, the Kents in Singapore said that they felt rotten for a week or ten days after flying back from Australia. They think the change from the cold dry bracing air to hot-house atmosphere is too sudden. Certainly I have been feeling more tired these last few evenings than I ever remember doing. The worst of my job of house arranging is over now and though there is a lot still to do, it can be done at leisure.

What is it in the nature of Civil Services which produces stories of idiocy in all countries? I’ve not been in any country yet where I did not hear them. Is it something innate in the very nature of a Civil Service? The fact is a powerful argument against socialism. I dont see how Government control can be as efficient as private enterprise. The facts were glaringly apparant in New Zealand.

Coming back to the country I have been hit in the face and appaled at the dreadful atmosphere of intrigue. What ever the faults of the old Civil Service administration, it was above and quite untouched by party politics and by riligious differences. Sine Home Rule came in, democratic elections (by people who do not understand them in the least) and rule by Indian Ministers, the “Party” and the “Communal” spirit pervades everything – It is like a cancerous growth eating into and destroying the whole fabric of the Government of this country. I have been shocked to find that it even pervades some the old Indian I.C.S. officers. This I learnt from the wife of one of them – a woman I have always likes and admired. She finds her husband’s conduct so abominable in the way that he is selling his official integrity for favour with the Ministers, that she is thinking of applying for a legal separation – There are other more ordinary grounds for this – but she would have endured them. She thinks his present conduct amounts to treachery to his country. It will be interesting to see what happens! Best love Mother

Did I remember to send birthday greetings last week? Here they are now – Very many happy returns - I hope Aunt remembered to send you the usual cheque on our behalf and that you will be able to get some new records or something for your pleasure. A&H Stores are sending a parcel of butter and bacon which I hope will reach you safely.

Family Letter from LJT No 30  Part II

8 Theatre Rd.  Calcutta.

August 21st 1941.

My Dears,

This letter goes straight on from last week’s, which, by the way was wrongly numbered.  It should have been no 29.

Last week I finished in the hotel at Sourabaya, but I forgot to tell you that between Koepang on the island of Timor, and Bima on the island of Soembawa, we flew right over the little island of Komodo, where the famous “dragons” come from.  What a strange improbable thing that these huge lizards should be found on that tiny island only

On Sunday morning, when we left Sourabaya, Herbert consented to take the anti-sickness drug, which I had found so effective the previous day, and he did get through the long voyage to Singapore without being sick, and was able to eat his meals, though he did not feel very grand.  It was a pity he could not look out much, for it was a fascinating day’s flying.  To begin with we flew almost the whole length of Java, partly over the land, and partly just off the coast.  The flat plain for some distance from Sourabaya, looked rather like a tartan in shades of green and brown, in such neat rectangle are the fields arranged.  Double lines showing roads, paths and canals, encourage the tartan idea.  The houses are grouped in villages, “Kampongs” and are also neatly laid out in lines.  The intensive cultivation, the numbers of roads and villages, the homely friendly look of the whole place is a most interesting contrast to the emptiness of Australia, the northern part, that is.  Australia’s soil is mostly good, it seems, but soil is not much good without water, so the idea of getting the great tracts of North Australia to carry a big population, seems fantastic, till science invents some way of providing water where there is none.  Java is practically never short of water, and her backbone of mountains provides a constant reservoir of water for her wonderful irrigation.  As we approached the skirts of the mountains, the pattern of the country changed.  The fields and canals followed the contours of the land, and instead of tartan, the earth beneath us looked like green and brown shot and watered silk.  We were to the north of the volcano, Arjuna, on the southern flanks of which we had stayed in the village of Batoe, but our old friend was hidden by the morning mists, as were the other great volcanos we had hoped to see as we flew past them.  We saw nothing of Batavia, for, as at Sourabaya, the port is some miles from the town proper.  Out to sea from Batavia we passed the “Thousand Islands“.  They are a mass of tiny patches of earth supporting palms and trees, each ringed by a narrow line of white sand (coral?) and surf, and most of them with a pale blue lagoon similarly ringed, on one side.  The whole arrangement edged with a band of brilliant jade green, fading into deep blue as the water deepened.  We thought they must be atolls.  A stretch over the sea was followed by a long bit over the forest swamps of Northern Sumatra, where the thick mangroves go down to the water’s edge in many places.  Sea again and a corner of the island of Banka, and more sea till we reached the Lingga archipelago, and knew we must soon reach the Equator.  On the excellent map supplied to us by the company, we could see that the line cut across a hammer-head shaped island, and I had just said to Herbert that a few more moments should take us over into the Northern Hemisphere, when the steward came in and said “We shall cross the line in four minutes time”.  A few minutes later the steward came in again with an envelope for each of us.  They contained certificates that each of us had crossed the line at such and such a time in the Flying Boat “Camilla”, and were signed by the pilot.  At the top of each card was a picture of the Flying Boat, with a very rakish figure of Neptune sitting astride it, his crown well on one side, and trident in hand.  It was not long to Singapore and we were passing over pretty islands all the time.  They are of all sizes and shapes, most of them rising to little hills, and showing patches of rosy pink rock cliffs.  At Singapore we said goodbye to “Camilla” and her staff (or should it be “crew”?)  It seemed dreadful having to carry a fur coat ashore over my arm, and strange that only three days before I had been glad of it.  For the first time here we encountered the delays and bothers of customs and of pass-ports and a perfunctory medical examination, before we could get away to Singapore’s famous hotel, “Raffles”.  Here we were given a suite consisting of a huge bedroom, bathroom and sitting-room, and a message was waiting for us from our friends, the Kents, with whom we had travelled about so much in New Zealand, and with whom we were to have dinner.  We had arrived early, and had time for a rest, wash and change, before ringing them up at 4 o’clock.

Family letter from LJT No 30 (Last Week’s should have been 29)

8 Theatre Road

Calcutta

Aug 25 1941.

My Dears,

Days ago, I started to write the balance of the account of our Air Trip, and got one page done.  Since then I have never been able to sit down to my typewriter.  There has been so much to do, and so many people to see and to speak to on the phone, that my only free time has been after dinner, and to tell you the truth, each night I have been too tired to collect my scattered wits, and write.  Some sort of letter must go off to you all, so I have abandoned the Air trip for the moment and will try to finish it, and send it next week.  The complications of getting into this house have been greatly added to by the fact that I have only fetched a little of our furniture down from Chinsurah, as our predecessors wanted to leave most of theirs here till early October, and the Haldars were anxious to keep some of ours for the Governor’s visit to Chinsurah next month.  Had I realized what a lot of extra trouble it was going to be, I dont know that I would have consented.  The Bearer is still sick, and though I have got a good stop-gap, actually a far better servant than old Bhim Das, I have spent a great deal of time this week on unpacking and going over Herbert’s white uniform, which he has never worn.  Every detail had to be gone into with the bearer, and though it looks simple enough, the bother of making sure that buttons of the right size, little bits of gold braid of the correct pattern, etc etc are all correct, is really fantastic.  Why did people invent such things?

Herbert went off last night, in order to be at Krishnagar to greet the Governor this morning.  They stay there two days, Herbert living in the Circuit House with H.E. and going on to Berampore with them in the special train.  Two more days are spent at Berampore and they will be back here on Friday morning.  Alone in the house, I have more time to get on with things.

Did I tell you that we have both bought bicycles?  Mine was sent out to Alipore last Saturday, so that I could practise in the gardens there.  It is twenty years since I rode a bicycle, but it seemed quite natural.  I have been out for one shopping expedition on it, and we both went round to the Saturday Club successfully yesterday.  Everybody’s doing it!  The Indians are going to find the petrol rationing much more trying than the Europeans, for few of the ladies will ride bicycles, and they wont like walking.

Most of our boxes and what furniture I wanted immediately, came in from Chinsurah last Sunday, and we moved in here on Monday.  On the whole it has been horrid weather, very hot and damp, so that the perspiration simply streamed off one the moment one was not directly under a fan.  It made the unpacking business much more of a trial.  Thank goodness it is pretty well done now.  My pictures are not coming in till late, and I think I shall leave the books in their tin-lined cases till the rest of the furniture comes in in October, though its tantalizing to know the books are there and I cant see them!

Herbert had to attend a big dinner given by the Nawab of Dacca to the Governor last Thursday.  The Nawab did not know I was here, so I was not asked, but went off to dinner at the Saturday Club with Walter Jenkins and to see the film “Lady Hamilton”.  It was an unsatisfying film, but Vivian Leigh made an excellent Lady H.  We have had visits from many of our old friends.  Idris Matthews, Rex Fawcus, who is back in Calcutta, and several more.  We were taken out to tea at Tollygunge on Friday by people who had a little petrol in hand, and my dear Mrs Stanley invited us to drinks at the Saturday Club in the cocktail hour on Saturday, and regaled us with many amusing stories of things that had happened in our absence.  She can give things a turn that often make them screamingly funny, and I found myself laughing till the tears ran down my cheeks!

In a few days I am hoping to present myself at the Red Cross Depot and ask for a job, but I had to get the house straight first.

Our boxes sent off from Sydney early in June, have not yet arrived and we are short of clothes.  One has to change so often in this sticky weather.  I have had to get Herbert a few extra things, and a dhirzie is running up two or three cotton frocks for me.

Indian politics seem more futile than ever, and the atmosphere of intrigue that is always so thick in the East, seems appaling after being away from it for some time.  Jack may be as good as his master “down under” but he is frank about it, and does not intrigue behind your back.

Best love to you all

LJT

Air-Trip, cont’d

They came and fetched us in their car about 5 o’clock, and took us for a sight-seeing drive round the town, through the Botanical Gardens and out to a golf course for drinks.  Singapore has a certain general likeness to Calcutta in the general appearance of its main street and residential areas, but it is prettier, because part of it is hilly, and because it looks out across the sea to pretty islands.  The golf course was a lovely spot.  The Club house stands on rising ground, and looks between the slopes of two hills to the artificial lake, which is Singapore’s water supply.  It was such fun talking to the Kents too.  We wanted to hear of their doings after they parted from us in New Zealand, and subsequently in Australia, and they wanted to hear about ours.  News about life in Singapore was interesting too.  Tremendous confidence in the ability to deal with any power who tried to play the fool seemed to be the key note of their impressions.  They drove us to their delightful house for dinner, and there we were joined by the man, John Crighton, who stayed at the Franz Joseph Glacier; climbed Mount Drummond with us, and afterwards climbed Mount Cook with Harry Ayres.  We were keen to hear about his climb, for we had not seen him since, and we wanted to contrast his impressions with those of the two Guides who took him up.  As we sat under the whirring punkahs in the sticky heat of Singapore, it was nice to let our minds go back into the clear crisp cold of the New Zealand Alps.

It was a hot and wearisome business the next morning waiting about for the various authorities to pass us out, and return any sums in foreign currency they had taken from us the previous night.  However at last we were whisked out to the waiting plane, which was apparently the twin of “Camilla”.  We had a new set of passengers with the exception of a family, father, mother and small four year old daughter, who had come from Sydney and were bound for Penang, and an elderly Englishman and his young wife, who had been wandering round the world in search of somewhere to settle, when the war broke out.  Having experimented with New Zealand, they had decided against it, and were bound for South Africa.  One of the new passengers was an Indian, a Mawari merchant.  He is one of that great race of traders, “The Jews of India”, who have such genius for making money, and so often remain extremely orthodox, even to the extent of not learning to speak English.  This man could not, and every now and again we had to translate for him, when the purser wanted him to fill in papers with his address and one thing and another.  He shut his eyes tight and held on to the arms of his chair, as we were taking off.  He had never been in the air before, and afterwards said he had felt very frightened, but soon when he found that it was just like sitting in a drawing-room, he lost his fear.  Our new pilot, a most adequate looking big red-haired man, took off with rather more dash, than the previous man had done, and landed with much more delicacy.  The steward was an ex-soldier, to judge from his medal ribbons, and his general type, and though he did his job pretty well, he was not in the same class as the Australian for general attentiveness, or for neatness in serving meals, which just goes to prove that the superficial manners dont necessarily go with adequacy of service.

It was fun looking down and spotting the places we had visited the previous evening.  The plane climbed pretty rapidly, and the needle of the altimeter ticked up and up till we were over 11,000 ft, sweeping past big white clouds, and peeping down between them at forest-covered mountains.  I thought about our old friend Shebbeare, who is the game warden of Malaya, and who has from time to time invited us to go and stay with him somewhere in those mountains.  At times I thought I could distinguish a difference in the appearance of the forest, indicating that I was looking at rubber plantations.  As the hills shrank in size, we looked down on lots of tin workings, where on sheets of muddy-looking water, dredges looked like tiny toys.  Amongst the workings there were often pools of water of a brilliant green.  I must ask the geological people about them.  Nearing Penang, we saw more cocoanut trees than I have ever seen in my life before.  They were not growing casually here and there, as they do in Bengal, but were neatly planted in rows, fields upon fields of them.  They were a strange sight from the air. I was so interested to see the island of Penang, for Herbert went there with the coal committee years ago, and has always spoken of it as the only place where he has found the glamour of the East.  Its palm-fringed shores, red roofed houses, - often with the delightful Chinese tilt to the ends of the gables, - and groups of mountains, not far from the shore, look very charming.  The small girl was thrilled to be getting home.  She had been marvellously good the whole way.  We went ashore for a stroll on the pier, and a servant was waiting for us with iced lemon squashes.  It was while he was perched on a railing drinking his squash, that the pilot broke the news to us that we were not going to stay the night at Bangkok, but push on to Rangoon.  I was keenly disappointed.  He asked why I fancied staying at Bangkok, for in his opinion the city was little better than a sewer.  I said I wanted to see some of the temples, especially the temple which holds the green jade Budha.  He more or less mocked, saying that we should find a more comfortable hotel in Rangoon, but my sorrow was not cooled.  I would put up with sewers and an indifferent hotel, for the sake of seeing something of Bangkok.  It not take us long to fly across the isthmus of Kar, on to coast of the Gulf of Siam.  Here for some while, flying high and well out to sea, there was not much to look at, but I was very interested when we came over the rice lands at the head of the Gulf, and saw Bangkok houses.  We landed some way above the town itself, and saw little but some jolly boats so full of people and vegetables that it was a marvel they did not spill over into the muddy water.  There were a number of small temples of the Pagoda pattern.  Ashore we were given tea, and got off again without much delay, for we had still a long way to go.  Again over rice fields, which gradually rose to wild jungle and mountain country, with rivers flowing in deep gorges.  It was fun trying to guess when we had passed the water-shed and the rivers flowed west.  I think we must have crossed more or less directly East and west, and came to rice lands near the Burma coast, till we reached the sea, and followed up a coast line, much prettier than I had expected, with bays and inlets and little islands, and ranges of hills inland.  As we neared Rangoon, the weather grew bad, and we ran into heavy rain.  It did not make the air rough, but obscured the view.  The last hour seemed long, and we were glad when at last we began to drop down over the huge muddy expanse of the Irrawady.  The great river seemed to be full to repletion of yellowish-brown muddy water, swirling sullenly along under drenching rain and a low grey monsoon sky.  The light was already fading and we could not see much of the city as we alighted.  Next there was some fun about having to go off two by two in a small open motor boat under the shelter of a big coloured golf umbrella to the airways steamer, which was luckily only five minutes trip away.  Everyone was full of apologies.  The proper launch had broken down.  By the time we had all been brought over to the steamer ( A sort of River-Houseboat ) and had gone through various forms about customs and money, the launch had been resusitated and took us ashore in the gathering darkness and pouring rain, rather tired after twelve hours of flying.  We did not get to the hotel till close on eight o’clock, and Herbert was much too tired for me to attempt to get in touch with some friends, to whom we had not written, because we thought we should only be landing for a few minutes at an indefinite time to take in fuel.  Our pilot told us that we could have a lie-in the next morning, and need not leave the hotel till 9 o’clock, as we had such a short distance to go.  The elderly man with the young wife, and an American who was on his way to join a business firm in Calcutta and I, detirmined to drive out in the early morning to see something of the town, and the Schee Dagon Pagoda.  We had a nice little Burmese driver, but when we got to the Pagoda we found that not only did we have to take off our shoes, as we expected to have to do, but stockings and socks as well.  It was a damp morning.  Muddy roads, and misty air, had made the marble steps leading up to the Pagoda look revolting, so with one accord, we refused to go.  This removing of socks and stockings has been made a sort of political issue.  I felt so disgusted at the name of the Budha being taken in vain, so to speak.  The whole atmosphere of the entrance to the Pagoda was so unpleasant and so different from the simple straightforward feeling of the Tibetan Monasteries.  We got back into our taxi and drove round the park and hill on which the great gilded Pagoda stands, stopping to look at the four entrances which are at the four points of the compass.  These entrances with their finicky layers of elaborately decorated roofs, were extremely shabby and tawdry, and even the Golden Pagoda looks much more impressive seen from the distance, as we saw it later in the morning from the air.

Rangoon is rather a pretty place, with wide tree fringed roads, a big lake, and parks and gardens.  We had intended to go into some of the markets, but the rain started again fiercely, so we drove back to the hotel and to breakfast.  Herbert had stayed in bed, and he needed the rest, for he had been very tired the previous night.  We had time to ring up our friends after breakfast.  It was amusing to hear the surprise in Irene Hutchins voice, when I told her who I was.  Rangoon seemed in a way quite near home, but we had a lot of low coast to fly along before we crossed the Bay of Bengal and came to our adopted land.  The sky was full of monsoon clouds, big fat white or pale grey creatures which rushed towards us a solid entities, only to dissolve in what looked like clouds of steam as we hit them.  Sometimes the impact made an appreciable bump, but a different sort of bump from the way the hot air tossed us about near Darwin.  Truly the great delta of the Ganges is a strange land.  I had often flown over bits of it, and once I flew right across when Idris Matthews and I flew to Chittagong, but that was in the cold weather, when the land that is land was visible as such.  In August so much of the land was flooded between the infinite number of rivers,  both huge and small, that one wondered how anything with so much water in it could keep any sort of shape.  There came a time when I fancied I could pick up landmarks, and spotted a certain railway I knew from the air.  Soon we were flying past DumDum Areodrome and in a few moments we were curving over Bally Bridge, with our old home at Cossipore close at hand, and Calcutta in its smoke haze, just to the South.  Our familiar old Hooghly was just as muddy as the Irrawady, but the sun had come out, which made it look less dismal, but greatly increased the heat.  The formalities on the House-Boat affair seemed to take ages.  We had arrived so much earlier than we expected that our car was not there.  It was 3 p.m instead of 4.30.  However while the customs and what-nots were doing their stuff, the car drove up.  I had meantime phoned to greet Winsome and tell her we would soon be along.

It was very strange to be back, especially as I had more than half believed we should not return to India.

The rest you know. In my first letter after arrival, I told of our greetings in Alipore and the goodness of Harry and Winsome.

Love to all

LJT

From LJT to Annette No 30 (last should have been 29)

8 Theatre Rd
Calcutta
Aug.26th 1941

My darling Annette

This weeks letter to you which has gone in Aunt’s Air Mail envelope, has no copy – I wrote it by hand in the early morning, while Dad was still sleeping and I could not use what Mogul calls my “type-machine” –

In case it has been lost – it carried best wishes for many happy returns of your birthday – The hope that Aunt would remember to send you a little cheque on our behalf – and the news that the A&H Stores have despatched a parcel to you – 2 lbs butter – 1 lb bacon and ¼ lb cheese – I hope it reaches you safely.

Thanks for your letter of June 12th posted with Aunt’s of June 20th and received almost a week ago –

The wedding photos are great fun

Best love
Mother

Family letter from HPV
(pencil note from LJT at top of letter – I’m trying to clean up all possible jobs before starting office work, so forgive me for sending no personal letter this week. Best love Mother)

8 Theatre Road,
Calcutta.
August 31st q 1941.

My Dears,

Sunday, but I am sitting in my office room because the upper part of the house is full of noise and smell (mustard oil) of working parties (I am to explain. Workmen, doing odd jobs. Not ladies sewing shirts etc) The table here is too high. No higher than I have been accustomed to on my travels, but since we came here I have been using one more of a proper height for typing and I notice the difference now. You would see me if you were here clad in new raiment, to entice the eye and gladden the heart of the onlooker: to wit, white shorts of a snappy cut such as the younger and smarter have worn for years but not I. Joan hoping to get me to wear cooler things indoors bought them. Also sandals; new also. Cool to the feet, and not quite but almost as worn by brother Hal.

Brother Hal took me to task for writing about typing: it is a dull subject, so he says. However it interests me and I do not see that it is any duller than any other subject open to me as a material for family letters. He lent me his book on the art, not the same as the one that he gave me; not so good either maybe. It has no agreeable alphabetical sentences. But it has some illuminating remarks on the necessity for beating evenly not only the keys, as all such books have, but also the space-bar. This caused me to realise that I had not paid attention to the need for having no alteration of rhythm when a space comes; and so while we were at Hal’s place I practised this thing. With some results. But an obstacle to advance is this; there is only the one typewriter. My non-return to Chinsurah has robbed me of the use of the official portable that is there: there is none such in this office, and probably no reason why there should be either here or in the Chinsurah office: and I have not succeeded in an attempt half-hearted as it was to convert to my own use a small machine lying unused in the L.S.G. Department. Perversely the only occasions when I have an urge to practise are when Joan is using this typewriter or about to do so. Also I have been out on tour; Sunday evening to Friday morning. When I resumed my attentions to the machine yesterday I felt that I was doing better than before; but it was a fantasy due to fatigue probably, for on examination of the product I found mistakes many and annoying.

Talking of mistakes, I have notice that both my dear daughters, namely the lady Annette and the lady Rosemary, have the vulgar trick (the latter more than somewhat) of writing “to you and I” “for you and I” “of you and I” and so on. Doubtless you all have murmured “between you and I” which is the variant of this trick most often condemned; but I have not seen this in their letters. I adjure them to avoid such things. As for me, if I write phrases of a non-English twist, it is because for years I have been reading stuff written by Indians, till now I have lost all idea whether any particular phrase is English or not. I have been re-reading some of my speeches about irrigation schemes and have observed that the phrasing might well have been better: and this same remark might be made about my Forest Report which also but for no reason I picked up the other day. My errors are no excuse for you younglings to fall into worse. I mention them only because I am in non-essentials honest.

Did I say that Hal insisted on the evil of long paragraphs? He expounded the doctrine that trying as everyone of us does to get as much as possible onto the pa, with a view to air-mails, we produce a result most difficult to read and probably not read. Right enough, perhaps. But if the recipients do not want to read so much they are under no compulsion to try; and no harm is done anyhow. None the less I am in some degree taking his advice. Knowing that my letters are token letters, containing no news and intended only to convey a general impression that I have some affection for the family members. A Bengali phrase, much in vogue. Which reminds me that I have altered the alphabetical sentence about the restive ox, omit all reference to Jim and using ‘muzzle’ instead of ‘puzzling’ so as to get a Z. To my sorrow Hal will not enter into the joy of the game of making up such sentences.

The tour was not really my tour but the Governor’s. I tagged after him. Two districts visited. Actually I went to the first the day before the Governor was due to arrive, so as to see that the arrangements were all right. It poured with rain that night and the next day. Contrary to my habits I arose at half past six almost every day of the tour, having in vain tried to have my morning tea at a quarter to. I was fed by Government House, because there was every certainty of trouble if I tried to have cook etc. at the same circuit house as H.E. was to use. They did me well. As soon as H. E. arrived I became his guest. All went with a swing. Too much swing in one of the districts where the District Magistrate, a Bengali, was at all times and seasons blotto. An absolutely brilliant man and in spite of being lit up more than the fleet even capable of making a first class extempore speech, as indeed he did. But there were awkward asides once or twice while others were speaking; and he had to be carried home after dining with His Excellency, as I was told afterwards. H.E. was keen on agricultural farms and we had some agreeable discourse about the beauties of manure and the admirable results that would attend the devotion to cow-dung which might be expected of Hindu cultivators if they lived up to their professions. High-souled responses on the same lines from all the gentlemen present when they were there at all: but it was quite obvious that they are certainly not devoted to cow-dung in any form suitable for agriculture and had not the least intention of urging people to increase their prosperity by increasing their crops instead of seeking Government grants for every conceivable thing. H.E.’s general attitude towards the requests for benefits was much what I have been urging on the Government for years past, as intended by my Development Act. But with the war on there is no hope of money being available for doing anything and there is no great object in urging people to adopt the frame of mind proper at more auspicious times.

It was stinking hot in spite of the rain out in the districts but hotter still here when I returned. Masses of work accumulated. I was moreover tired. In consequence I woke up in the middle of the night and stayed awake for ages, --- Friday night. And last night I could not get off to sleep till well past one. None the less, I woke at 6.30 this morning.

We meant to ride out on bicycles (does the abbreviation ‘bike’ still exist?) to see H.D. and Winsome this morning. But this was defeated by the former’s arrival with the two dogs in the car. Then there was cheerful talk and exchange of compliments and thoughts, till Winsome came in. She had been to church. Soon after the visit ended. And H.D. borrowed the Humus book.

Did Joan tell the family about Mrs Haldar’s gossip? I chance it. Her tale was that when news came of my approaching return the stenographer at Chinsurah went around like one stunned, overcome by undeserved misfortune, and at last asked for leave on the ground that his relapse into ill-health made work impossible: she mentioned to him when he came to tell of his misfortunes (observe the difference between a Bengali regime and ours) that I should be posted in Calcutta, and within a few minutes the stenographer was back at work, having quite recovered from the attack of ill-health. He lives in fear of me, says Mrs Haldar. Such is the ingratitude of man. I was kind to him, having made no attempt to get him sacked in spite of his being useless and not to me a sympathetic character.

(handwritten at end of letter)
I have been feeling like Naaman with his two changes of raiment, one on and the other in River Jordan. It never occurred to me before that the prophet rejected the offer of them because a leper’s cast offs are hardly savoury: but now I can see the whole scene clearly, as if before my eyes.

You, in the wedding group, look Tyrolean. And, ?lumae?, are you wearing earrings?!!? Oh shame! popinjay.

However still much love
Dad

Rosemary, you have done superbly getting so many letters to Australia. Look you! What folly to play so much tennis! What idiocy to continue set after set when tired! And how good to be nice to the raw beginner! If she had been Richard (or I) she’d have brought a book into the court with her --- a book on Tennis for the Beginner. (Billiards is the only game you can play straight out of a book).

Stamps cannot be sent in letters these days. Censors confiscate them.

Much love,
Dad

Family Letter  from LJT  No 31

8 Theatre Rd.

Calcutta

August 31st 1941

My Dears,

A number of interesting developments have taken place since I finished my last letter.  To me the most important in the prospect of a real job in the Department of Supply.  It would amount to being Idris Matthews private secretary, working in conjunction with a superior grade of Babu stenographer, who has the technical skill of the short-hand and typing, but who cannot grasp the constant mass of small jobs that someone is required to do.  The Department of Supply is divided into three branches, each under a Director.  Idris is in charge of the Dept of recruiting, and the men whom I knew as the Superintendents of The Rifle Factory and the Ordanance Factory at Ishapore, are respectively in charge of the Dept dealing with Expansion and the one dealing with the actual Supply of the guns and the shells.  The fact that I know all of them, as well as Col. Butler, the Director General, and the present Superintendents of all the Ordanance Factories, and lived for more than two years in such close touch with the work of the Factories, gives me a certain initial suitability for the job.  There will be a lot of card indexing to do, or to teach the Babu to do, and for this I have had years of practice in the Himalayan Club.  The probability is that the stream of people whom Idris has to interview, will now come first to me, and I shall have to see that they fill in a form giving the information the Dept wants, before they go in to be interviewed.  At present Idris has to do all that himself, and of course its gross waste of time of a man with his highly trained abilities.  He makes notes as he sees the men, and these should be transferred to cards for indexing, along with the information written on the form.  There are heaps of other things Idris mentioned, which there is no point boreing you withbut it all seems to me stuff I should be able to deal with.  I feel already happy at the prospect of buckling down to a definite full time job, and I shall be more content working in a department with such a very direct bearing on the War, than I should in the somewhat amatureish atmosphere of the Red Cross.  Idris and Mr Dunderdale, one of the other Directors, dropped in to see me on Monday evening, and asked if I knew anyone who would be likely to volunteer for this job.  I turned the matter over in my mind during the night and rang Idris up in the morning to ask if I would do.  The crafty fellow had wanted me to volunteer all the time!  He came to dinner with me that evening, and went into the detail of the working of the Department at length, so that I might grasp fully what is needed.  I told him I would take it on, provided Herbert had no objection.  Herbert, meantime was out on tour with the Governor.  When he got my letter telling that I proposed to take on this work, and told the Governor, H.E. said that he had hoped I would undertake to organize all the V.A.Ds in the Province.  I dont want to do this for a number of reasons.  First, I have had nothing to do with organizing the training and know nothing about it.  I do not want to be put into a job over the heads of the people who have done all the spade work simply because Herbert happens to be Commissioner of the Presidency Division.  Also I have a shrewd notion that it will be an eye-wash sort of job.  Since Herbert had no personal objection to the other job, I am going to start on it on Tuesday, and be tied to it, before any official request comes for me to take on the other thing.

The tour with the Governor went off well enough Herbert says, and they seem to have had some agreable times paddling about in the rain and mud looking at Agricultural farms, and preaching the beauties of humus.

Herbert got back in time for rather a late breakfast on Friday morning, a bit tired after a night in the train, and several days of tagging round with H.E.  One of the things we shall have to make up our minds to when I am a working woman is that I shall not be able to go on tour.  Even this is turning out well, for yesterday I was asked whether we would be willing to have two school-boys to live with us during the cold weather, so they can continue to attend the new school which has been started in Calcutta for the sons and daughters of people who have brought their children out here because of the war emergency.  These two lads are the sons of an I.C.S. man a little senior to Herbert, who was a private secretary till about the time we left India for our holiday, but has since been sent up one of the Hill Stations in charge of a place where the men who have passed into I.C.S. are doing their years’ work on Indian Law and Languages, which they formally used to do at Oxford.  The boys are at present staying with someone in Darjeeling, and attending the summer session of the school up there.  They will come to us in the beginning of November.  I think they are fifteen and thirteen.  Miss Pearce, better known as “Lovey” taught them for a while, and Mogul knew them well as little chaps, for he was with the Finnells all the time Herbert was home after the shooting outrage.  It will be funny having school boys of that age to look after again.  Its a bit of a responsibility, but I am glad I have the chance of passing on to some one else, a little of the kindness and help we have had for so many years at “Highways” and are now also getting in Winnipeg.  I think I mentioned that Idris Matthews is going to live with us.  He comes into residence to-morrow, so I rang him up to know if he would have any objection to the arrangement.  On the contrary, he seems to like the idea.  This house is so big that besides liberal accomodation for ourselves, that is a large bedroom , a good sized dressing-room study for Herbert, and a rather charming long narrow room which I have taken for my writing room, there are still a suite of bedroom, bathroom and sitting-room for Idris on the 1st floor.  I shall give the rooms corresponding to his on the Ground floor to the boys, and that still leaves us one very large spare room on the ground floor.

While Herbert was away from Sunday to Friday, I was far from lonely.  Someone or other dropped in almost every evening before dinner, and Idris dined here one night, and Walter Jenkins on another.  Idris came to talk shop, but Walter as a preliminary to going to a Chamber Music Concert.  There have been a series of these concerts every fortnight during the Rainy Season for some years now, and they have a faithful band of attendants.  I met such a lot of old friends there.  Last evening I was out again.  There is rather a quaint but interesting little man called Arculus, who belongs to the Dunlop Rubber Co, and used to come quite a lot to our house in Chinsurah.  He is going off to the Army and had a little farewell party last night, to which he kindly invited us.  Herbert would not go, but I enjoyed it.  The other guests were pleasant people.  We dined at Firpo’s Restaurant and went to see a strange film, “Citizen Kane”.  Have you all seen it?  It is one of those rather confused things that begin at the end, and go back (It will be almost original to start at the beginning soon) and is said to be based on the life of Hirst, of Hirst Press.  After the cinema, which did not finish till about a quarter after midnight, we went back to Firpo’s for a drink and had a dance or two.  It seemed quite dissipated to me, after the early hours we kept when we were “down under”.

This morning, Sunday, we had planned to ride on our bicycles to Alipore to visit Harry and Winsome, but scarcely had the order been given to bring them round, than Harry turned up, accompanied by the two dachshunds.  Winsome had come to Church at the Cathedral, which is only a few minutes walk away from us, and Harry had come to spend the time with us till the service was finished.  It was nice to see the dear people again.  Poor Harry has been laid up with a slight attack of ‘Flu, but has recovered.  Charlotte and Nurse went off to Darjeeling on Thursday.  Harry brought us the good news that the ship bringing our longed-for boxes from Sydney, is in the river, if not already in the docks.  These are the trunks that we sent off from Sydney at the end of May, not the suitcases we had with us up to the departure from Brisbane.

Did we by the way, ever tell you about the arrival of Archie, the brown dachshund in Harry’s house?  He came on the very day we arrived back.  Harry had advertised for a male dachshund pup.  They got a request from the owner of Archie to take him, though he is a couple of years old, as a gift, as she was going back to England.  He turns out to be Max’s half-brother.  Odd, is’nt it?  He’s a charming little dog, and on the whole he and Max get on well to-gether and play a lot.

On the whole the weather has been horrid, though heavy rain on one or two days has made temporary patches of comparative coolth.

I have been trying to get the curtains for the various rooms done, and everything I can attended to, before I start office work.  I have just taken back the Himalayan Club work too, but there is not a great deal doing now-a-days.

The sad news of the death of the Maharaja of Burdwan reached us over the air the evening before last.  We had not realized he was ill.  He was only 60, though he looked more.  His passing marks something of the end of an epoch.  He was a link between the old Indian world and the modern one.  He was a sound sort of person and not easily swayed by politics..

A whole batch of letters from Romey came yesterday, three weeks supply in one posting.  It was nice to have news after a longish gap.

Best love to you all

LJT