1941 December
Family Letter from LJT No 45
8 Theatre Rd.
Calcutta.
Dec 7th 1941.
My Dears,
At last I have answered telephone calls, the servants queries about various things, and cleared the mass of notes of one sort and another, that had to be dealt with, off my writing table. Now I can settle down quietly (I hope!) to write to you.
The old year seems to be rushing along to its close so fast that I dont know how to keep up with it. I had bought a whole lot of postcards to send to friends in New Zealand and Australia for Christmas, and they are still ranged in one of the pigeon-holes of my table. We got a letter from Barney this week, bringing us Christmas greetings, for which many thanks. The only other recent letter from home has been one from the Bank.
I cant even express to myself the curious state of mind one is in living in this country that seems so remote from the great battles that are raging in Libya and Russia, and yet is so vitally connected with them. Perhaps a few of us have gathered for an evening chat. Someone looks at a watch, and moves to the wireless to turn on the News. The atmosphere changes and the expression on our faces changes. We are under the surface of things now instead of rippling along on top. The flare up of fighting in Libya has coincided with Calcutta’s War Weapon’s Week, and it has seemed fitting that it should be so. The sight of the guns and the tanks and the shells; of the ships at the Jetties, and the planes giving demonstrations overhead, has perhaps helped to make the people of this country realize a little that War is going on, and something of what it is. Two days of the week were declared public half holidays, in order to give the people the chance to see some of the demonstrations, and the great stretch of the Maidan was like an ant heap! I sent all the servants to see the exhibition of weapons, and told them to go out on Friday to watch the demonstrations of bombing from the air. Its hard to get at quite what impression they have received. Mogul was master of ceremonies, but I have been too busy to discuss the matter with him in any detail.
Office work goes on, and I’m always busy. We get enraged at the way important things are held up by the purest red tape, used exaggeratedly by certain of the Indian officials to inflate their own importance. After Idris got back from Delhi, and there was a mass of work demanding his attention, his time and that of the Deputy Director of Munitions Production (the link above him with the Director of the whole department of Munitions Production) was almost entirely taken up with the completely negative work of putting up an elaborate case of why two men, one an engineer of special qualifications, and one a chemist of very special experience in explosives, should be appointed to certain key jobs, and not Indians. It had been stated that after exhaustive search, no Indians were to be found with the necessary qualifications, and yet these creatures demanded that full details should be given of how many men’s qualifications had been considered, what sources we had tapped in order to find men, and so on and so on. It just makes me see red! I feel like sending a petition for an interview with the Viceroy, and putting the whole thing before him!
Herbert got back from his tour on Tuesday, looking better than he did when he went away. Its nice to have him back. He had planned to go off again for a week on Saturday 13th, and we had asked to be excused from accepting an invitation to dinner at Government House on Monday 15th, when the next day an invitation arrived to dine with the Viceroy on Tuesday the 16th. That we cannot refuse, so he must change his plans, and we shall have to explain the situation to Government House. It will be sad for Hebert if he had to go out on two evenings in succession.
Last Sunday evening I went to an excellent film with Charles Holmes. He had a nice little party, and after the cinema we went to supper at the Bengal Club. June (whatever her name is – I have clean forgotten) had just arrived from Kashmir. She was looking, I thought, rather thin and tired. Suffering from too much gay life perhaps!
Our amusements have been much as usual. Friends in to drinks, or similar visits to ourselves, and tea and a walk at Tolly yesterday. We went to see Harry and Winsome one night, and heard the story of how Archie the dachsi chased a mongoose into a drain under the road, and there got stuck, so that the road had to be dug up to cut him out. Max, meantime stood by and howled! And all the children from the school opposite came out to see the fun! We are having dinner with H.D. and Winsome on Christmas night. Best love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Annette No 45
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
Dec 7th 1941.
My darling Annette,
Its seems such a long time since I sat down to begin writing letters this morning, that I felt I must get up and take a little walk round before I started writing this one, I look a turn about the verandah, and through the big drawing room, and thought what a pity it seems that we have so much space and use it so little. Most of the time that I am at home, I spend either sleeping, eating or writing. In spite of the fact that our furniture is all oddments, I think the drawing-room looks nice, and more habitable than it has under many other regiemes I have known here. Three book cases are a help in making it look like a human habitation, and we have put two of the tiger skins on the walls of the inner half of the room in which we never sit. I dont like tiger skins or other trophies in drawing rooms as a rule, but I think these are a success in their present place for they help to make the so-large room look furnished.
Its odd that about three mails have come in with no letters from you or Richard or Aunt. I dont suspect that you have not written, but think its just chance what letters get on to what ship, but I do miss them! A letter from Barney makes us know that all is well with the household. Poor darling! He seems to be allowing himself to get a little overwraught with all his many different ploys! I dont altogether wonder, for he must have a good deal on his hands, and its balancing the claims of several different things that is tiring. I find that, with household, office work, Himalayan Club, and Social demands.
I am glad to say I have managed to squeeze in a little time for reading in the evenings lately, and have just finished my re-reading of “African Farm”. Its astonishing that Olive Schreiner at some period before 1881, and from the background of a life up to that time, spent entirely on remote farms on the Veldt, could have thought the thoughts she did about the emancipation of women, and could have expressed them so strikingly. Its strange that after the power and close observation of the early part of the book, she should have found no way to wind up her tale but to have her strong-minded heroine die of some indefinite incurable malady, after producing an illegitimate baby, which lived a few hours. Now that I am useing my mind steadily all day, I understand what a refreshment it is to read a novel, or something that does not require any mental effort to grasp it, when one comes home in the evening.
June Holmes turned up in time for her father’s party on Sunday evening. She is looking rather thin, and a bit strained. She gives the impression that she is trying to live at too higher tempo. She is intensely interested in herself, a thing which may be said in some degree of all of us, no doubt, but she gives the impression of not being interested in much else, and expecting other people to be the same. One thing in her favour is that she does not make up much. I expected to see her much more “got-up”. I wonder what she intends to do in the future. The film we saw was queer and interesting. “Here come Mr Jordon”. Have you seen it? Dad and I are going to see Walt Disney’s “Reluctant Dragon” at 6 o’clock this evening. I am full of curiosity about it.
We are holding our final Himalayan Club Committee Meeting of the year on Wednesday evening, and I have had quite a lot of stuff to get ready for it. I do so wish I could get someone to help me with that work but there seems to be no-one with the qualifications and the time to do it. I’d like the help myself now, and I would like to know that someone else was learning the ropes against the time when I leave India for good,
Best love, my dear
From
Mother
From LJT to Romey
Dec 7, 1941
My Darling Romey,
I’m waiting eagerly for the parcel of photos from Canada which I think might arrive soon now. I am so excited to see them. The picture of Annie might come before long too. The cold in Canada often sends my mind running on to the cold in Russia. I find it hard to imagine! I think the lowest temperatures I have experienced are those of the nights and early dawns in the height of the Himalayas when it has been 15 or 16 degrees Fahrenheit, equal, I suppose, to about 22 “below” with you. That was cold even inside tents and sleeping bags and with heaps of woolen clothes on. It must be cruel when there is no shelter, and absolute hell for wounded who cannot move. It scarcely bears thinking of, except that it may be a factor in helping to defeat the Germans.
We had the new American Consul here for drinks on Friday evening, and we talked quite a lot about the American and Canadian Fraternities and Sororities. I had several “new” people in to drinks on Friday evening, besides Mr. Merrill (the American). There was a new High Court Judge and his wife, transferred from Madras, and great friends of the Gourlays, and the new Manager of the Hong Kong Shanghai Bank, recently come from the Straits. His wife is a cousin of girls (at least they were girls!) who were at St Monica’s with me. Katherine Ord Mackenzie was the first head of the school, you may remember. Mrs. Muriel (the Bank man’s wife) knows a whole lot of the original St Monica’s girls, for a number of them came from Edinburgh. I am quite sorry I have so little time to see more of people like this, but it is not easy to accomplish these days. Do you even hear from any of your old St Monica’s friends?
Now that my furniture problems are settled, the house is pretty well in order, and clothes all attended to. I am managing a few odd minutes here and there for reading, and find it such a treat. I have just re-read, after a long interval, Olive Schreiner’s famous book “African Farm”. It was written before 1881,and Olive Schreiner was a young woman, who had been born and lived all her life up till that time on remote farms on the South African Veldt, and yet her insight and the modern trend of her thought is amazing. I enjoyed the book far more now than I did the first time I read it. I think I have often been inclined to rush through books to quickly, and so not get the full flavour and value out of them. Reading aloud is a great cure for that!
The film we saw that night was “Here Comes Mr. Jordan”, which I thought most interesting and amusing. What fun to have struck something quite new in the way of ideas for a film! Dad and I are going to see Walt Disney’s “Reluctant Dragon” at 6 o’clock this evening. I am full of curiosity to see what it will be like.
Yesterday at Tollygunge we saw the Gurner family. Linette and Auriol both look cheerful and flourishing and not at all oppressed by the fact that they are in the middle of the School Certificate Exam. They each have a huge black dog, Labrador Retrievers, and they arrive at Tolly being towed by the dogs. It is really most amusing! Cyril Gurner has a “spotted dog” called Jezebel. She’s a pretty creature, but like all the Gurner dogs, somewhat disobedient! Funny what a lot of people don’t teach dogs to obey orders, and I don’t think it is difficult to do. We shall be thinking of you on Christmas Day, and we’ll drink your health at dinner with Harry and Winsome.
Best love and good wishes to you all,
Mother
Family letter from HPV
Calcutta.
December 7th 1941
My Dear Annette (handwritten name)
As so often happens after a big inspection, I am wallowing in the residues of it. The inspection notes have to be written, and this takes hours. My stenographer has not been in office since my return from Jessore, having instead sent me a letter to say that he has malaria: a thing impossible, for the chance of getting malaria in Calcutta is negligible and sufficient time did not elapse between his going to Jessore and his complaining of fever for malaria to develop. I suspect that it was sheer funk. Anyhow I am left with large wads of the stuff unwritten, and, worse, there are in the stenographer’s notebook the notes of two departments which took me over an hour to dictate. Will he be able to read these when he returns to the world of men?
War weapons week. The air has been full of the noise of planes and of gunfire. It has been a real holiday for our Bengalis, few of whom have any realisation that the war may yet touch them. My share in the activities has been nil, except to subscribe to war-loan, which I should have done anyhow. There have been large sums subscribed.
My notes and forms for checking the expenditure to be incurred if the Japs bomb these parts and people have to be fed and housed after bombing have at last been put through and will be printed up soon. Work that I need not have done, except that there was no sign that anyone would do it and I saw that no one would. It is really my only war-work up to date, for the organisation of war-committees hardly comes under this head. In Bengal.
It is my sadness to be in demand among the great these days. Having fixed up the next inspection to be done, eight days at Khulna, I then got an invitation to dinner at Government House for the middle of them. With tact I extricated myself from it (a thing not supposed to be proper) and then a day later there arrived an invitation, which is a command, to dine at the Viceroy’s. No slightest chance of being able to wriggle out of this, and so I must postpone the inspection; it is a nuisance to have to chuck a real piece of work for a bit of futile ceremony.
In the middle of a night I lay awake and decided that Joan was snoring: and at the end of a long time I woke her. And promptly went to sleep. Next day she told me that I had myself started snoring vigorously, and had kept her awake. This was a real setback, for no more shall I be able to intervene if she again indulges in a snoring fit. She thought it funny.
There was great excitement in the H.D. family the other day. Due to a mongoose. There was a chase and with screams of rapture Archie went after it through a hole in the garden wall and into a drain under the road. There were yells and more screams to be heard from the depths. Above in the light of day despondency and a gathering of all near and some far. There arrived the contents of the new school (for it was just at a time when they ceased work) and loafers and ladies who had been into the town to shop. H.D. became irate and shouted “Away with you all. I shall not have this!” Fine, as I think. The sweeper who looks after Archie came with both hands waving above his head, calling on his gods and throwing off his raiment before himself plunging headfirst into the drain. The road was torn up, illegally of course, so far that the wildly wagging tail of Archie, still intent on the mongoose who had been cornered by water, could be seized and in the tug of war that followed the sweeper won. Covered with black slime and looking like a common dog there emerged Archi, and as he was he was kissed and exclaimed over by his following. All this tale of drama I derived from Charlotte, who had not seen most of it: for being unable to endure the strain she had withdrawn to her bedroom. How earnest was her description! and how noticeable her dimples! She looks very pretty these days. So does Winsome.
Did I tell how as chairman of the joint war committee of the Red Cross and St John’s Ambulance I was attacked by the chairwoman of one of the women’s subcommittees because the organisation of the subcommittees was both illogical and inefficient? Incidentally she was quite right. The result of her agitation (not of her talk with me) was that the members of her committee, having had their attention drawn to her having been away on holiday in Cashmere for eight months, demanded her resignation, and not getting it, deposed her summarily. Hence a royal row.
(handwritten addition) I have reverted to the typing exercises: not systematically but with some results, as I believe. Tell us how tootling on the recorder, fencing, Highland dancing and Russian progress.
Much love
Dad
Family Letter from LJT No 46
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta
Dec 14th 1941.
My Dears,
Last week I was writing about how remote the War seemed, and at that very moment it had come half the world nearer. Singapore does not seem far away, and Burma just next door. Vague personal plans for A.R.P. have been put into some sort of shape. Two rooms in this house which should be fairly safe against blast, had already been selected as shelter rooms in case of raids, one for us, and one for the servants. I have been busy putting First Aid Equipment, and all the details which would seem to be necessary or helpful in case of having to spend long hours shut up in the rooms. How familiar all this must be to you, who have lived under war conditions for more than two years, and how strange it seems to us in action, although we are so used to it all in theory.
The news of the loss of our two great ships was a heavy grief. As when I heard of the fall of Belgium over the wireless, so when this news came, it seemed unbelievable. The accounts of the fighting in Malaya and the doings in Bangkok, bring such vivid pictures to my mind of the peaceful looking seas and lands we flew above such a short time ago. Malaya with its tangle of forest-covered mountains, and its narrow swampy coastal plains, and hundreds upon hundreds of miles of flat beaches, must be a terribly difficult country to deal with from a military pint of view. How to keep watch over its tremendous stretch of coast line, and how to move troops and equipment from one place to another, must be a baffling problem.
When I told Mogul that we were at war with the Japs and that we must make arrangements in case of Air Raids, he, who is never seen to say his prayers, put his hands together, cast his eyes up to Heaven, and said devoutly, “They will not come. Nothing can happen without the order of God”. I rejoined that in my opinion God likes us to make our own arrangements. I dont think Mogul’s remark was more than a pious gesture, for he has entered into plans for precautions with zest. He, and our new bearer, Ismail, both Muslims from Bihar, are men who may keep their heads in an emergency, I think. I have’nt much confidence in the local men, but one cant always tell.
The war news from the many fronts has so far over-shadowed all other interests that I find it hard to recollect what I have been doing, other than office work, and a Himalayan Club Committee meeting the preparations for which, and its resulting bits of work, have taken up a good deal of my spare time. The Himalayan Club Secretary from Darjeeling suddenly came down here for a day on Friday, summoned to give his opinion on certain aspects of the tea supply of the Empire to the tea firms in Calcutta. In common with other planters called for the same reason, he was greatly annoyed to find that actually he was wanted to listen to what the brokers had to say! He had breakfast and dinner with us, and part of the evening we devoted to discussing Himalayan Club affairs. It was a very useful meeting, for there were a lot of things to discuss, and it is so much easier done by talking than by letter.
Its been a perfectly lovely week for letters. On Monday two from Richard, written while on leave at Highways on 27/9. On Tuesday No 18 d. 21/9, from Grace, enclosing one from Annette. On Friday the following: Grace, No 17 d. 4/9: two from Anne (account of Scottish holiday): One from Richard from Castle Kennedy: one from Gavin and one from Peggy, all written in late August or early Sept. and all most acceptable and pleasure-giving. Happily Harry and Winsome on their way from a wedding, called in for late tea in the garden with us, so we were able to enjoy the letters to-gether. It seems that Grace’s No 16 probably written during the latter part of August, is missing. That may have had news of parcels of food sent from Brisbane before the clothes were sent off. I hope they arrived safely. I am very glad the clothes did, and are considered useful! I sent two lots of food parcels from Brisbane with chocolate, cheese and bovril cubes as far as I remember. On Friday I also got a letter from Helen Hamilton with news of her family (Jock in the Middle East, wounded last year, escaped from Crete, and with his regiment reconditioning somewhere was her last news. Peter at sea, and Audrey a W.R.E.N working at Grenock). From the Graingers, our friends at Wellington, I had the welcome news that their son Derek is a prisoner of War in Germany. It sounds an odd thing to say, but for ages after the evacuation of Crete they had no news of him at all and it began to seem that he must be dead.
I forgot to mention that on Wed night I went to an Indian wedding. The bride was the daughter of the man who was Collector of Hooghli for part of the time that we were in Chinsurah. I refused the invitation to the earlier ceremonies at the bridegroom’s house, and went to the bride’s house at 9 p.m. Sheila is a pretty and intelligent girl of seventeen. She was looking very charming, sitting in a big circle of Indian friends, but, poor child, she had had no sleep and no food since the previous day. We stood about and talked for a little, and then went upstairs to have some refreshments (There was an Indian room and an European room) When we came down again, our host said firmly to an English I.C.S. man and myself. “Will you go in and say good-bye to Sheila now?” so we were left in no doubt of what to do, though I was a little sorry not to be present at the actual ceremony. Later I heard that it did not take place till half an hour after midnight, so I was glad I did not ask to stay.
Yesterday Idris had asked me to help him entertain one of the Indian Joint Secretaries to the Govt of India, who is working down here in the Supply Dept, and through whom a lot of our stuff has to go up to the Central Secretariat. Mr. Kirpalani and his wife were to have come out to tea at the Flying Club, and had short flights in the Hornet. On Thursday news came that the Flying Club premises had been taken over by the R.A.F. and that local flying of Civilian planes was forbidden. Instead, the Kirpalanis came to tea in the garden here, and Idris took us all to see the film “Hold Back the Dawn”, which we thought very good. I must say, a decent film is a nice rest to the mind in these times of stress.
Hearing of the arrival of my letters from Australia in such large bunches makes me feel really sorry that I wrote so much, for the very idea of reading it must have been appaling!
Best love to all of you
LJT
(handwritten addition at end of copy sent to Romey)
My darling Romey,
You are going to get a short letter this week, as it is not the week we get letters from you, and we have had such a budget from England after a long gap, that I feel like writing rather extra long ones to Aunt and Richard and Annie. Isn’t it dreadful how personal one’s reactions to great events are? A very early thought that came rushing into my mind when I heard that the Japs had started a war, was that we should now take ages to get letters from you, and a wonder whether your photos would be safe. I have since realized that all parcels come via the Atlantic, so I hope the portraits will be alright. Events have poured so thick and fast upon us during the past week, that I feel almost stunned. One can’t take it all in. Thank God that Russia is doing so well, and that the Libyan Campaign seems to be going satisfactorily!
It is strange to think of all the places we thought so safe, coming into the danger zones. You are pretty well placed in Winnipeg, I should imagine, but the West Coast of Canada is definitely in the war, I suppose. Harry sent your letters last week via Auckland, and we much wonder whether they will ever arrive, so I am thinking of posting the copies of the last two weeks letters, and of today’s by sea, just in case. I am glad to think that even if our letters take an age to reach you, you will be getting some from England.
In my family letter I forgot to mention that Dad and I went to see Walt Disney’s “Reluctant Dragon” last Sunday evening, and enjoyed it. I liked it better than Dad did, that is the actual dragon part, for I don’t know the book and he does, and did not like the film being so different. Dad laughed at Guff giving a demonstration of the art of riding, till the tears came in his eyes.
It seems I got all wrong about degrees of cold, for of course the Fahrenheit and the Centigrade degrees are different, so I fancy the cold we experienced was very much less than I said to you in my last letter.
Best love my darling,
From, Mother
From LJT to Annette No 46
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
Dec 14th 1941.
My darling Annette,
Its been awfully good of you to spare time to write such a full account of your holiday in Scotland, and we did enjoy reading it. You and Richard seem to make very nice friends. The Legat’s sound a charming household. It is interesting meeting North Country business people, when one has lived all ones time in the south and not come across that type at all, is’nt it? I found just the same thing the first time I stayed in Manchester. The talk and interests of people were so very different from anything I had known. It must have been a joy to you to get right away from work and all thought of it for a while. I do wish there were some way of arranging for Aunt and Uncle each to get a real holiday. I think I can detect signs of nerve-strain in letters from them both, nothing very definite, but just a little something in the tone now and again. Of course I got out the map and followed your wanderings. You saw a bit of Scotland that I have never visited. I spent a night in Inverness on my honeymoon, and motored down to Perth and the West Highlands, and eventually back to Aberdeen by the coast road. When I stayed with Professor Crew in Edinburgh we motored up to Aberdeen via the Spital of Glenshee, and back by the main road the same night. He had to attend a conference, and I had to amuse myself from 3.30 till 6 p.m.. As it was a lovely day, I look a tram down to the sea and walked along the coast, watching the fishing boats coming in. I’ve got such a clear picture of it in my mind. You saw a good deal on your journey, and I should think you must have been a bit tired at the end of it.
I wonder whether the new type of work you mention in your letter of Sept 14th is permanent, and if you continue to be able to do it at what time you like. It will be much pleasanter for you if you dont have to do night shifts through the winter. How interesting it will be after the war, when we can all meet and compare notes of the things we have been doing. I had a letter from Gwen Petrie recently, fairly cheerful. Its rather remarkable the way she has been able to stick the motor driving work, at her age, and with her not very robust health. Do you manage to send any of my letters on to her these days? I was awfully glad to hear from Helen Hamilton about herself and the members of her family, I wonder whether Jock has been in the Libyan campaign.
Its interesting to know that you thought “Neutral Port” futile. It really made me angry! Apart from its larger aspects, the psychology of the characters was so badly drawn. They were made to shift their whole mental and spiritual make-up at a moments’ notice, just to suit the story. Odd that the makers of films dont notice that. Its so often done, but not quite as grossly as in “Neutral Port”. “Target for To-Night is coming here soon, and I’m looking forward to seeing it. I had read somewhere that it is very good.
Your mention of typing downstairs for the benefit of the children makes me think that your place of abode must be a much pleasanter place to live in since its master went away! How sad it is that some people spread an uncomfortable atmosphere around them. I suppose they get a fixed impression themselves that the world is an unfriendly place. We had an odd man in the office the other day. He was an Englishman of about forty, an engineer of sorts. After the usual preliminary polite remarks, I asked him to fill in one of our forms. He flew into a rage, said he had not come round asking for work. (We had made no suggestion that he had!) that he was tired of filling in forms. H’d filled one in at the Fort two years ago, and if we wanted a form why could we not get that. I rose, I hope with dignity, and said “Mr Hutchison, if you are not prepared to fill in a form, we can get no further, and its useless wasting more of your time (I really meant my own.) Meantime I looked out of the corner of my eye at Idris, to see if I was doing right. It seems I was, and the man left. A few days later the Hon Secretary of the National Service Advisory Committee, rang up to say that there was a man there * * * who had been to see us, and was it definite that we could not offer him a job. I explained, and Mrs Frances, (the Hon Sec) laughed and said “Yes! He certainly is a bit difficult. He’s been raging round the office here since 9 o’clock, asking why the - - - the people in authority dont come before 9.30, and he’s been as rude as he can be to everyone as they have arrived.” She added that she kept on trying to remember that this man had been badly shell-shocked in the last war. But what can one do with a man like that? I dont think it would be safe to put him into a job in charge of Indian labour.
Best love, my dear, from LJT
Family letter from HPV
Calcutta.
December 15th 1941
My dear Annette (name handwritten)
It has been an amazing change in sentiment about things that suddenly I feel Rosemary till now the nearest of the family for letter purposes to have become far removed. The odds seem to me much against the continuance of the Clipper mail getting through to Canada regularly. Lucky that we feel no whit of anxiety about her.
The week has done us proud in the matter of English letters. Annette (2), Grace, Richard, Gavin, Peggy. All in their several ways informative. News of Thud and Blunder, who ought to be bull-terriers, came from several; some writing before and some after arrival. One consolation when the misalliances are lamented is that there is always the excitement of guessing what is going to be the result and which the cause. As apparently is the case though not about dogs in all villages, according to various books on rural life that I have met recently.
Much work this week. To begin with, thinking that I should be away for the next ten days, I had crammed in appeals so as to finish with them before Christmas. On top of this were a lot of meetings. Besides there was ordinary work. Add a little extra on account of Japan’s entry into the war. And top off with a row about a war committee about which one of my committees had to adjudicate, and that entailed my digging into confused records as to the constitution and the powers of a whole string of committees none of which had any real organization. It has been a howling nuisance, the more so because the whole affair has been eagerly watched by those who take pleasure in rows and delight in seeing their friends make fools of themselves.
As I came out from the meeting which discussed this matter I heard a voice of an old man chuckling “It is the Sahib, it is Mr. Townend!” and turned to see Mr. Nicholson who sold me this typewriter. He takes a great interest in the transaction because he used to live near Harry who would visit his birds or maybe fish and say good things about them. He enquired about this machine and undertook to do any adjustments for nine pence: that is a joke, apparently. It worries me rather that it goes crooked as I write. I suppose that the only thing to do is to take out the carbons, adjust the paper and start again.
And now it looks as if I had got them twisted the other way. The reason why I uttered praise of Annette’s typing about which she asked in her last letter was that it is regular; more mistakes in hitting letters do not matter much as long as the best of the fingers on the keys is even. Such a thing is possible to one only who is at ease in her mind and of a pure heart; but it is perhaps going too far to insist on the purity if all the tales are true. Like that insistence on typing even by one who liked home comforts.
It was a matter of gratification that Nannette and Peggy both refer with appreciation to my efforts as an author. More labour went into the polishing of those sentences than Stevenson put into his best stuff. For instance the one about the sick Jew revolved itself in my head during the whole of a four mile walk along the beach at Southport: and that about the ducks among the packed worms was inspired by those loathsome crabs along the harbour there.
With what joy Peggy seems to join battle with her relations, acquiring allies and scheming reprisals! Let it not be said that there is any vindictiveness in this family, but it would be quite true to say it. Me, I am agin such things except when I am doing them myself.
Annette in this last letter answered the queries that I put to her in one of a few weeks ago, about fencing and Russian and such. It seems to me that her motive for learning Russian is among the most futile. There is no need to read the novels at all. Moreover see what they brought the Russians to. The Spanish investigations are far more reasonable. It was worth making an effort to find out the ages of babies in different editions of the book.
I have just had a report about the breakdown of an officer. It says that he brought it on himself because he beat his wife with a stick with knobs and broke her arm. Later it describes how he was forced to put on his trousers before he left the hospital where they had sent him, and how they then gave him a sedative. The thing was a tragedy but the account of it was to the hard-hearted extremely funny.
Still our Bengalis feel that here the war cannot come and that the preparations against air-attacks are a political stunt. It makes the work much harder for my officers who are trying to finish off the organization. Observe how I spell with a z all the words into which it can possibly be dragged. That is the result of the typing exercises.
(handwritten addition at end of letter) You are honoured with the red copy this week so that you may see how others also save waste. The typewriter like death is a divider of friends. It is also a filter which strains out all thoughts and allows words only to get on pages.
Much love
Dad
Airgraph from Romey to Richard (addressed to Sub Lieut (A) R.F. Townend R.N.V.R, R.A.F. Station Duxford Cambridge, England)
From Miss R.J. Townend. 197 Harvard Avenue. Winnipeg. Manitoba. Canada.
19/12.41
My Dear Richardo. It is quite a while since I favoured you with a personal letter, and so I am sending my Best Wishes for Christmas and the New Year by this new Airgraph service. I hope that the print is large enough for you to read the type. This seems a wonderful way of saving letter space and costs 10 ¢ as against 30 ¢ for air mail. It is quicker too since the censoring does not take os long. You will have to tell me how long it takes to reach you and whether it is worth while my writing to you like this more often. If you are at Highways give my love to all there but in case you are not I am sending a cable as well. The Airgraph is only for H.M.Forces which is a pity. I can keep in touch with Peg this way if you send Michaels address, but can hardly send Highways letters to Polly now. To tell the truth I originally wrote to you there the night before last and found that they may not deliver to a home address since it would be taking a chance on whether the addressee were really in the forces. They might but I wanted to be sure, so if this is a little late you will know why. However since I wrote I have received your letter of 18th Nov for which many thanks, so may be there was a providence keeping me from sending until your letter arrived. We are all flourishing; I stopped classes today and John came back from school for the hols. I had no exams only term tests; exams come next April. I hope you get leave for Xmas you probably deserve it. I know I shall appreciate 10 days or so free. U is all very well but does not leave room for much other than study. I have to catch up on all owed letters now. I do not know how those at home feel about the U.S. being in the war, but I feel (may be selfishly) very glad since as well as the U.S. themselves it has woken up the complacent Canadians who did not seem to realise there was a war on. Of course many did, but not the average man. You can only realise how nice this is when you have to stay among a population doing little, and at the same time knowing how much those at home are doing and how much those here could. Already within a week there is a great difference. My telegraphy has been going well but there are no classes over the holidays and to avoid getting behind I have bought a key as from Mother for my birthday. A pity you are not here to practise with me! You mention a present. I know not what you are able to send out and leave it to you darling. Your last year’s was nice enough for several. I hope you get my Totem alright. I sent it to Aunt. I did not know what to send. You were always a problem but more so now with Uniform. I thought that really characteristic Canadian gifts would be appreciated since maybe I shall not be here long and you may not get another chance, I hope you are not disappointed that it was not something useful. These Indian handicrafts are quite expensive or I would have sent something else too. Then there be portraits too. 10° below zero y-day and more cold to come. Quite Xmassy! Have been skating and must snowshoe soon. We all send lots of love & Happy Christmas & New Year. Send measurements! Your little sister Rosemary. Nov 16 Mail from India. All are well.
From LJT to Annette
8 Theatre Rd
Calcutta
Dec 20th 1941
My darling Annette
That brief week or two of the Calcutta year, when its pleasant to have a little fire, is hear and I am sitting beside it now. There is a very definite pleasure in it – and it delighted the Rankens who had dinner with us last night – They insisted on sitting on the little seats on either side of the grate, though they have no backs. We threw several cushions to Everett, which he piled up behind him – but Louise preferred to sit up-right, looking perfectly delightful in a high necked, long sleeved black velvet dress and tiny brightly coloured brocade shoes peeping out below the folds of the frock – She is a tiny little person and has the daintiest, prettiest little feet imaginable! She is very scornful of the American navy and arrangements generally – but Everett begs for patience and to reserve judgement till more is known of all the circumstances. Louise says that my working in an office has inspired her, and as Standard Oil (Everett’s company) have lost a great many of their white assistants, Louise is probably going to work in their office. She is an extremely clever woman and worked as a teacher before her first marriage, and as a secretary and later on the staff of the Reader’s Digest when she was a widow – so she knows how to tackle work. It will be very interesting to hear how she gets on. We enjoyed having them with us last night and I liked hearing Louise’s account of the places they have just visited in Rajputana. I’ve heard some good talk this week – I was quite lucky at the Viceroy’s dinner on Tuesday, and on Wed I had dinner in China town with Ramsey Chase (who my friend, Marion Atkins) and Tom Hewitson – There were two other sappers there, as well as Mrs Gurner and Francesca and talk flowed so well, that when we felt that we could not go on sitting any longer over our bowls of green tea, we went along to the United Service Club and sat talking there till midnight –
Dad and I have been at a Ginger Rogers film this evening – “Tom, Dick and Harry” – silly, but it made us laugh quite a bit – but it is not in the same street as “Hold Back the Dawn”, which we saw last week – Unfortunately the New Empire has taken into its head that it is not necessary to have the air-conditioning apparatus working on these cool days, with the result that the atmosphere is simply appaling – one begins to yawn and yawn and I’m still doing so now though its about an hour and a half since I came out of the theatre – I am thinking of writing to Directors about it! The next change of programme is “Target for To-night” which I must go to in spite of bad atmosphere –
Its brave of you to tackle the reading of “Clarissa” I’ve looked inside it once or twice, but never got the length of feeling I could read it – I went into the big bookshop, Thacker and Spinks, which is next door to our office, in my lunch hour, a day or two ago. My chief object was to buy a book to send for a Christmas present to Anina Brandt, who is in the Parole Settlement, at Katapahar The extraordinary thing was that every book I looked at, seemed to have some reason against giving it – An enormous number of them were about the war or matters connected with it, and others seemed to harp on the subject of freedom, or international relations or some subject that I felt she might say she could not bear to read about! Finally I got her “Power” by Russell and 4 Penguins – I hope she will find they help her to pass the long days! I have to confess that I only feel inclined for quite light stuff when I do have time to read –
What a nice household the Drakes seem to be. Mrs Drake, especially sounds as if she must be a great dear
Best love, dear daughter from Mother
Family letter from HPV
Calcutta,
December 21st 1941
My dear Annette (name handwritten)
There will be no excuse for bad typing today, if there is honesty in man, for I have had the rolling mechanism of this machine adjusted. Of late as must be admitted I have not done so much by way of practice as I always expect to do. However I have so far mastered the numerals that now I feel surprise (quite unjustifiable) when I hit the wrong keys. Strange how an interruption destroys the faculties! Mogul brought a glass of Horlick’s as is ordained by my ever-loving wife at 10 o’clock each morning, because I have nothing at breakfast to drink, and it led to my at once making 7 mistakes.
Much of my time this week has been given up to the arrangements about A.R.P. in the office. The building is built round a courtyard, mostly two storied but three in front and on top of the third, approached only by a wooden staircase, there is a mansard roof over a large attic twenty feet high. There are four different ‘offices’ occupying the building, luckily all subordinate to me more or less; and it occurred to me to see what arrangements they had been making. Not many and not wise.
Proudly they said that Government had supplied fire-fighting appliances which had been distributed among them. Sand-bags for smothering incendiary bombs, shields for the men trying to throw them on top of the bombs, sand-boxes in which the incendiaries might be removed and scoops plus shovels for getting them into the boxes, buckets and metal casks for water. All lamented that they had no stirrup-pumps, though they had no one who would be prepared to use one and there seems no particular reason for having them. But none had noticed that there was no sand in the bags or boxes, no water in the buckets or in the casks. None had been provided by the Government, they said; though there was sand lying in the quadrangle and there was water of course to be had from the taps. Probably the reason for their lack of interest was the attention given to blackouts which have given the impression that the Japanese will not come by day. I found the appliances had been arranged on a strictly departmental basis: for instance on one side of a door my office had a cask and nine buckets, two fire-extinguishers, two sand-bags, an axe, a scoop and a sandbox, while on the other side the Excise Department had the same minus the extinguishers and seven of the buckets. No one had thought of being able to open the door and they had left the other extremities of the building without any appliances at all.
The difficulty is that the only inflammable part of the building is really the top where there is only a slate roof on wooden beams: and no one is likely to stay up there because it is of course without shelter against anything falling and if the stairs do catch fire there is no way down except by scrambling along the edge of the roof behind a foot-high parapet with a drop of three stories into the street below. Not very pleasant at any time, as I found when I tried it myself the other morning; and at the end there is a twenty foot drop onto the roof of the building below.
The row about the Red Cross is at an end (or pause) but I am wondering how much hatred has been stirred up by my letter about it, although I made every effort toavoid all personalities and to touch only on legal points.
The week has been marked by my going to the movies. Tom Dick and Harry with Ginger Rogers in it: amusing in bits but not much as a whole. I have done a lot of filming lately, - the Reluctant Dragon, which amused although they had destroyed the really charming story about the Dragon in order to make it funny, and Hold Back the Dawn which had charm although there were certain disgusting elements in it such as the enormity that the hero was a Rumanian. And a Rumanian with a past and a dirty past even for a Rumanian.
Somehow I have ceased to read my French books. I ask myself if the reason is that there is so little probability of my using any French that I may retain or even acquire, when the chances of wandering in France are so small. Doubt whether the French will be cordial after the war and certainty that I shall be poor. However the certainty that I shall never use the materials derived from it has not prevented my reading a book on soil analysis.
It looks after all as if there was no honesty in man. Has the adjustment worked? I suspect that the pages have worked crooked. When one buys secondhand, there is always the feeling that the former owner had a good reason for selling and the crookedness may be it.
(handwritten addition at end of letter) Again I reserve for you the copy in red: which formerly went to Rosemary because it might be considered pretty. I am sorry that I didn’t buy a bottle of ink remover so that I might clean up a bit but I claim to have done good work with the india rubber. Of course some of my mistakes are masked by my writing a different word into which the wrong letter fits: which explains the stilted wording in places.
Much love
Dad
Family letter from LJT No 47
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
Dec 21st 1941.
My Dears,
Its been such cheering news from Russia and Africa this week, and such grim news from the war zone in the East. I have always wondered what would happen to Hong Kong if war with Japan should break out. It seems so far from any support. I woke thinking of the people who are holding out there, and they keep on coming into my mind. India is of course, full of rumours, since its a country where much news is always spread by word of mouth, and since so much of its population is ignorant and credulous. A lot of Indians, especially the Marwari merchants, have left Calcutta, and we think it is a good thing that as many useless people as possible should remove themselves from this congested town, which is now definitely in the danger zone for bombing attacks. There was a tale at the beginning of the war of how the Marwaris, taking all the cash and jewellery they could carry, set off for Kashmir, thinking that the Japs would join in the conflict at once. Half way across India they met swarms of other Marwaris from Kashmir flying Eastwards, for they thought the Russians would be sweeping down over the Himalayas. “What to do?” as the Babus are so fond of saying. I think in a little while they mostly went back to their homes. Now they are on the move again, at least those from this side of India. They are not a lovely race! It seems that their god is money and their creed is personal gain. An emergency of this sort shows up the weakness of the purdah system. I can only speak of this side of India but I think what I say is probably true of the rest of India, except that the women of the U.P. and Punjab probably have far more courage than those of Bengal and Madras. Women here are nothing but a heavy liability. They can play no part in the general scheme of civilian defence or preparedness. From all accounts there is a great deal of sitting and weeping at the thought of what might happen in the future, and the interesting thing is that their men dont seem to see anything shameful in it, but take it as a matter of course. I confess it disgusts me. Of course there are exceptions, especially amongst the educated women, but the fact that one has to remark on these, shows up the rest. No! I don’t think India will ever be worth very much till she sweeps away the purdah system.
Herbert has been busy seeing to the more practical organizing of the air raid precautions in his office. Certain orders had been carried out, but without any common sense behind them. There was a practice alarm one day this week. It began at 5 p.m. when I had just boarded a tram to come home, so I got held up for over half an hour. Herbert was in the house, and reports that the servants did what they had been instructed to do pretty well, except that they did not bring in their blankets. (They knew it was a practice, and said “Why bother?”). Out of them all, only one did not appear in the shelter room, and that was the cook’s mate (apprentice). It seems he had a certain feeling that it was not correct for him to come into the house.
We have had a few social doings this week, but they seem so pale beside the war news. On Tuesday we dined with the Viceroy. It was a big dinner, but simply done as far as food and drink were concerned. It was the first dinner of the visit, and the heads of all the different sorts of business and official groups were there. Most of them people we know, and it was a pleasant opportunity of seeing them, for we have so little time for going out now, that we dont see a great many people. Herbert was taken up to talk to the Vicereign, and I had a session with our Prime Minister, Fazul Haq, who had on a fairly clean coat, but had not shaved for a day or two, I think. He talked for five minutes or so, and then heaving a deep sigh, he pulled out his watch, and settled down to a few minutes sleep. This was no special insult to me, but merely his usual habit. He must be pretty tired just now, for his old Ministry resigned a short time ago, and he has just got into power again on a different ticket, and at the expense of breaking with the Muslim League. I dont suppose he has had over-much sleep for some time. Our Bengal politics have many comic aspects. There is so much transparent manoeuvering, and such complete lack of principle, that its sometimes hard to believe that the whole affair is truly concerned with ruling a great and populous country.
By way of contrast to eating off silver plate at the Viceroy’s table, I had dinner in Chinatown with the two Sappers I have mentioned in recent letters, Ramsey Chase and Tom Hewitson. Mrs Gurner and her daughter Francesca were there, and two other girls, and two more Sappers, recent out from home. It was such a nice little party, and the atmosphere of the Nanking Restaurant is pleasantly informal, and good for talk. Its a rambling sort of place, with several different rooms, one of which we just comfortably filled. The talk was so interesting that when we had lingered as long as seemed decent over our bowls of green tea, I suggested moving to the United Service Club, where we sat talking till mid-night. We are taking these same four Sappers out to tea at Tollygunge to-day, assisted by Rex Fawcus and his car, for we cant get them all into ours.
I have had very little time to attend to my own affairs this week, for people came in to see us on Monday and Wednesday between tea and dinner, and we went out to Harry and Winsome on Thursday, and the Rankins came in to a quiet dinner on Friday. They have been in Delhi on business and then for a short holiday in Rajputana, and it was interesting to hear their impressions. It was also interesting to hear their impressions of America and the war. It is perhaps wiser not to repeat some rather free criticism. We have just started having a little fire in the evening, and like most America and the war. Its perhaps wiser not to report some rather free criticism. We have just started having a little fire in the evening, and like most Americans, who theoretically despise our antiquated methods, Louise and Everett loved it. Looking back I really have been out a lot in the past week, for Walter Jenkins dined here, and took me to the Symphony Concert last Sunday, and Herbert and I went to see Ginger Rogers in “Tom, Dick or Harry” at 6 o’clock yesterday. A silly film, but it made us laugh quite a lot.
Herbert seems pretty well, so long as he is careful not to get too tired. It seems to make a big difference to him if he can come home to lunch and lie down for a short time afterwards.
I am trying hard to find out whether the people to whom presents of clothes, either new or second hand, are sent, have to give up dress coupons before they get the things. Amongst the general public there are nothing but contradictory rumours. Tomorrow I am thinking of writing to the Post-master General, the Controller of Customs, and the Editor of the Statesman, for I dont want to send clothes, which I thought possible useful, are not what are urgently needed, and so use up the precious coupons.
Best love to you all
LJT
My Darling Romey, (on bottom of family letter)
I’ve been trying to picture what it is like in Winnipeg today and what you are doing. Skating perhaps, in your many pullovers and windproof hood. I wonder what you have got for yourself for a Christmas present from us. I’ve had so little time to think of Christmas or make any preparations, and I’m so glad that Harry and Winsome asked us there, so I have not to make arrangements about a Christmas dinner. I have asked some people to lunch, but warned them that it will be quite a simple meal. Our office is not taking any holidays except perhaps Christmas day itself.
The day before yesterday I sent off a Christmas present to Lovey, telling her that we’d love to have her to stay here any time, provided she does not mind looking after herself all day. Yesterday evening in the foyer of the cinema suddenly there was a little voice and a grip on my hand and there was Lovey! I am sorry her parcel had gone. She is coming in to lunch today, and perhaps she will be able to come here for a few days when her present visit is finished. I have just been looking at all the photos you have sent, because I know she will want to see them.
We are full of questioning about our letters to and from Canada, and whether they will be able to get by Clipper via Auckland. The news from the East ( Do you call Japan etc “The Far East” in Winnipeg? It seems so definitely your West.) makes one anxious, in spite of the fact that one knows the Japs will be defeated in the end. It seems they are capable of doing the devil of a lot of damage first.
Louise Rankin says that she is going to follow my example, and see if she cannot help in her husband’s office, since they are working very shorthanded. Everett is in Standard Vac. Oil. She is an intelligent woman and was trained to work. She was a teacher to begin with and then when her first husband died after a short married life, she took up secretarial work, and eventually was on the staff of the Readers’ Digest, so she knows what a day’s work in office is, and is accustomed to keeping papers in order, and writing business letters.
Best love,
Mother
Family Letter from LJT No 48
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
Dec 26th 1941.
My Dears,
This letter is being written at less than the usual week’s interval, as I have not gone back to office on this Boxing Day afternoon. Idris and I did a good morning’s work to-day and he has gone back again, to try to clear off a big heap of files that have piled up on him.
Needless to say you were all much in our thoughts yesterday. We spent our Christmas Day quietly, and with our minds constantly turning to the brave garrison in Hong Kong. In the past few months I have so often wondered what would happen to Hong Kong if it did come to war with Japan. We have Gordon Lloyd staying here for three days leave, but on two hours notice of being prepared to go anywhere. He is the lad with whose parents we shared a house at the time of Annette’s birth. He has made a lot of friends in Calcutta, for he came with a sheaf of introductions, so he is able to amuse himself to a large extent for this brief holiday. He took the opportunity yesterday morning, of sorting and repacking his clothes as he may be going over-seas almost immediately. I am so glad to be able to have him here.
Harry, Winsome, Charlotte and Nurse visited us after church, and one or two other old friends dropped in to see us, including Percy Brown. We had a small lunch party of the four Sappers, who are newly from England, and the Rankens. It is pleasant in the garden these days, so we had drinks under the trees, and lunch out of doors too. Our military guests had nothing special to do in the afternoon, so they stayed on for tea, and seemed quite happy lounging in long chairs and talking. Herbert went off to rest, and Idris had to go out. After tea, I took some of the party along to the Saturday Club, chiefly to make a little variety and to sow them the Club, for there was nothing special going on here. We had our Christmas dinner with Harry and Winsome. Theirs was quite a small party, and we were home before midnight, so the day was not too tireing for Herbert. It was extremely interesting to me to have long leisurely talk with the men who have been working in the bombed areas in England, as our Sapper guests have been doing. Firsthand accounts of experiences always have a certain something about them, that the best of second-hand reports dont quite achieve. They are all married men too, and liked to talk of their wives and families. They had lots of questions to ask about India, so what might have been rather a long spell of time to fill with conversation, did not lag. Christmas in Calcutta without the best polo in the world to watch, seems strange! Its always such a part of Christmas Day.
Now that I work, I find it quite difficult to recollect what I have been doing during the past week. I suppose the work and the attention riveted on the war are both more vivid than little goings out to the cinema or visits to friends. I dont think we did much, except take some people out to tea at Tollygunge on Sunday. Herbert has spent a lot of his spare time inventing a competition game for Winsome’s party. The only pity was that the party was not big enough to do justice to it. The idea is to have a museum of objects mentioned in proverbs or wise sayings, such as the straws, which showed which way the wind blew, or the mud that somebody ate. Making up the plan and collecting the things with the aid of the servants, was more fun than the actual game. Mogul took the keenest interest and would I am sure have produced a sow’s ear for us, if we had asked for it.
27.12.41. My forty-ninth birthday, which seems peculiar to me. It will be odder still next year when I find that I am fifty! Phyllis Carey Morgan had a book professing to tell everything a woman over forty ought to know. Phyllis herself was then a little over fifty. She said she thought that the book would have been far truer if it had professed to deal with what a woman of fifty should know. I certainly have not noticed much difference in myself in the last few years. I do not think I am noticeably less active, nor do I get tired any more easily. Harry’s fiftieth birthday will coincide with the senior partner leaving for good, and Harry taking over the control of the firm. His birthday is the twenty-ninth you know.
“Lovey” (Miss Pearce) is coming to tea to-day and we are going to see “Major Barbara” and bringing her back to dinner here afterwards. She is staying with some friends quite close by, and its nice to see her again. Her little school in Darjeeling is doing well. It was great luck for her that she had started it just before the war.
Best love to you all, dear ones.
LJT
(Dec 26, to To Rosemary on back of family letter)
My darling Romey,
How clever you were with your parcels! Ours arrived here on Christmas Eve, and with great self-restraint, we did not open it till the next morning. You have chosen nice things for us! I love my little porcupine quill basket, and it fills a want. I need a small box to hold just the essentials of sewing materials, and this is perfect for the purpose. Mogul is greatly excited about it, and wants to know whether the Miss-Baba made it herself! The tie for Dad is most useful, for the one you sent him last year is one of the few that he owns which is still tidy, in spite of heavy wear. Thank you very much indeed, not only for the nice gifts, but for all the thought that went into the purchasing of them.
I wondered often during Christmas Day, what you were doing, but of course during most of our day you would have been sleeping. In the Saturday Club about 6:30 pm we reckoned that you would just about be getting up, and when we were drinking your health after dinner, perhaps you were out skating, or something of the sort.
We have been talking about you a lot lately, for of course, Lovey always likes to hear about you. I have given her your letter describing your holiday at the Lake of the Woods to read. She is thin, but looking well, and much more cheerful than she has been for years. I think she is far happier in the independent management of her little school, than when she was just somebody’s governess, and I don’t wonder! It is almost certainly harder work, but she is her own mistress, and she is managing to put away a little money for her old age.
There are such a lot of noises going on this morning. Several aeroplanes are flying very low, diving and turning, partly, I suppose for the sake of practice, and partly, I think to get the people accustomed to the noise of planes, so that they will not be so likely to panic if we do have a raid. The Sweepers have orders to sweep up all the leaves that fall on the roofs off the kitchen and servant’s godowns, once a week, and they chose Sunday because they like to make a good show of working when I am about. The big dry leaves off an Indian Almond and a peepel tree, being swept up by the twig brooms, make a loud rustling. The crows help too. There are an awful lot of them in this compound. They are handsome birds, really, as well as being courageous and smart, like the proverbial cockney street urchin, but one gets fed up with them because they do make so much noise, and because they are such thieves. A tree-pie, a pretty bird with a long tail, has just come to add to the chorus. He’s sitting on a sago palm quite close outside the window.
I have had some nice books for Christmas. Dad, at my own request, has given me “England’s Hour” by Vera Brittain. It’s odd that I should want one of her books, but it seemed to me to tell us just the everyday things that we, who are away from England, want to know about the life there in wartime. Walter Jenkins gave me “A Prophet at Home” by Douglas Reed, which I have been wanting to read, but have not previously got hold of, and Idris gave me a very beautiful book by Rawlinson, “A Short Cultural History of India”, very well illustrated. I am trying to squeeze in a little time for reading, even at the expense of leaving some of the letters and things that should be done, undone. I was beginning to feel a little driven, and hungry for some reading, so it seemed best to me to make some adjustment, so that life could go on as reasonable as possible. An occasional half hour with a good book is a wonderful rest.
You have not told me yet, by the way, whether you want your opal set on a bar or in a ring. Of course, there is no hurry, for it won’t be advisable to send it to you. I gave Charlotte hers, set as a little broach for Christmas.
This morning I have been looking over Dad’s morning coat suit, and all the etceteras that go with it, as well as my own clothes, for the Viceroy’s garden party tomorrow. I have to go for tea into Their Excellencies Shamiana ( A shamiana is a sort of tent without sides) so I can’t cut the garden party, and stay in office as I had thought of doing. We have to dine at Government House in the evening too, but it is only a small “dinner-jacket” party.
This paper will be finished in a moment, so I’ll finish before it slips out. Best love, dearest,
Mother
From LJT to Annette No 49.
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
Dec 28th 1941.
My darling Annette,
Your letter has been left to the last this morning, and so I feel stale. From paragraphs in the paper, I fear our telegram of Christmas Greetings will be late reaching you, but, you dont need a telegram to tell you that we were thinking of your, and hoping you would have a good Christmas dinner!
I have been lucky in having some nice presents of books. Dad gave me Vera Brittain’s “England’s Hour”, at my own request. I am amused at myself for asking for one of Vera’s books, for as you probably know, I have not much opinion of the lady. Still, it seemed to me that this book might tell one just the sort of things that we, who are out of England, want to know about your lives during the early days of the war. Walter Jenkins gave me Douglas Reid’s “Prophet at Home”, which I have been wanting to read for some time past, and Idris gave me a lovely book. “A Short Cultural History of India” by Rawlinson, very well illustrated. I am trying to make a little time for reading, even if a few of my duties or letters that ought to be written have to go by the board. I found I was getting hungry for books, and I also find that half an hour with a good book, is an excellent rest-
There have been a great many noises going on this morning. There is a habit now of areoplanes flying very low over the town. It may be partly to accustom the people to the noise of them, so that they will not be so scared if we do get any raids here. Usually planes are not allowed to fly below a thousand feet over Calcutta, and since war broke out it has been a closed area, and we have scarcely ever heard a plane. The crows are always with us and always noisy, from dawn till dark. Its a pity they are such rascals, for they are handsome and most courageous, also intelligent, but there are too many of them. In the next garden an engaging bull terrier pup has been tied up on one side of the lawn, and its mother at the other, and pup is protesting vigourously! I think I shall go and protest too, soon, if it does not stop, for the wailing ending in a series of sharp little barks, distracts the mind.
Dad’s clothes and my clothes for the Viceroy’s garden party to-morrow have demanded my attention this morning. Mine were soon delt with, but Dad’s grey morning coat and all that goes with it had to be looked over in detail, for he has not worn it since before we went away to New Zealand, and this new bearer seemed uncertain of what shirt, collar and so on were correct. Parties seem a bit unsuitable in these days of stress, but I suppose its useful for the Viceroy and his staff, to meet the ordinary folk now and again.
On the question of whether to send some of my clothes home to you and Aunt I am still at sea. I rang up the Editor of the “Statesman” whom I know well, and asked him whether his paper knows anything about the regulations. He says he does not think that coupons have to be given up for second hand clothes, but he was’nt sure. He added that he thinks Government is against clothes being sent, because all possible space on ships is needed for more important things. I am still turning this over in my mind. From what you said earlier, you were pretty well off for clothes.
Later. Visitors came in, and its now after lunch and Dad wants to sleep in the room out of which this leads, so I think I had better stop.
Best love, my dear
From Mother
P.S. I forgot to tell you about Lovey, who was here yesterday. She is thin but looks very well, and is happier than I have ever known her. She is far more satisfied with running a school than she was by being a governess, and tells me she is managing to put away a little money against her old age. We talked of you, and I gave her your letter about your holiday in Scotland to read.
LJT
Family letter from HPV
Calcutta.
December 28th. 1941.
My dear Annette (name handwritten)
Mud is my middle name. Often before as it must be admitted I have not remembered your mother’s birthday on the morning (and this was all right because she has sometimes done the same with mine) but this was the first year when I had not thought of it beforehand. A proper scandal. She refused the idea of a Christmas present. I fell to asking her if there was anything she would like. It is a poor thing to have no imagination in such things.
The holidays are being observed by going to office each day. This is merely a token that we would do war work if there was any to do. There is none now in my office. I had a good deal to do in the planning stages but now that it is a question of getting the schemes for A.R.P. into execution I have nothing to do about them. After making many sketch-maps and prowling round the office a lot I finally shifted the fire-fighting things into what I hope will prove convenient places; there is a great deal of woodwork on the outside of the building on the south – window shades and staircases – and if an incendiary falls near these there will be tackling the fire. But maybe with our buildings cement-floored and steel-beamed a fire of this sort will not do any great harm. Strange how much time such things take up.
Christmas we did observe as a real holiday. Mostly by sitting and talking. Dinner at brother Harry’s; for me a simple meal for I abstained from forbidden meats. I was given a present: a small toy that most ingeniously dropped a marble into a slot numbered variously. But I forgot to bring it away. The family circular letter has described the proverb game. It ought to have been good but was a flop in my opinion. Sad that such beautiful thoughts come to so little. I enclose the guide in case it interests. But why should it?
Luck has been against me this morning; there have been visitors. One a District Magistrate who had announced that he would like to discuss a subject and actually discussed half a dozen and the other an old man whom I had known and liked 18 years ago at Barisal. It was nice of the latter to come in for he wanted nothing at all except to say good luck and such. But between them they destroyed my morning and this letter has suffered.
The week has been made uneasy by searches for my pistol licences. An inspector of Police came in to check up on the existence of the weapons for I had renewed the licences without producing them: I said that the licences would be produced in a moment and then could not find them. This morning I made a systematic search and found them in the place where they ought to be. Which made me think how like I must be to my dear brother Parp who also has the habit of assuming the last place to put a thing in is the proper place for it.
Tomorrow is to be a laborious day: there will be the Viceroy’s garden party and my top-hat will be in evidence and afterwards in the evening there will be a dinner at the Governor’s. I should cheerfully abstain from such festivities.
Rosemary’s present arrived appositely on Christmas Eve. The first event of Christmas Day was the opening of the parcel.
There has just been a great hat hunt. For the garden party. Ismail called upon to produce the grey topper said that it was quite all right and brought the grey Homburg. Rebuked he tried the fancy dress tophat, Cone shaped. then he brought but did not actually produce the double terai. It would have created a sensationif I had gone in any of these.
If I hit hard enough to make the ribbon work at all I cannot keep the beat on the keys even; if I keep it even the result is illegible. I shall go and lie down; for my courage has left me suddenly. It is a pity that ever I took up this idea of learning touch-typing for I have had little peace of mind since.
Lunch has intervened since the last paragraph. Lunch and a sleep. It is annoying that so often these days I suddenly go phut and have to lie down. I told the Government that I had not the strength to do any sort of A.R.P. work in addition to my ordinary job; all officers have to do something of the sort and everyone in my office has put down his name for the work of feeding the homeless in case of bombing, the least likely job of the whole lot to require anything of them. My stock with Bengalis has gone up because I have for months not to say years been telling them that they must be prepared for war with Japan; they think now that I had some sort of second sight for the idea of taking precautions on the off-chance seems to them inconceivable.
(hand written at end of letter) You see inspiration is utterly lacking. There were some notes that I made for the letter but they have disappeared. I am sorry to palm off such jejeune(?) stuff on you all.
Much love
Dad
PROVERBS AND PITHY SAYSINGS.
1. The pocket he put his pride in. (Coat with number on pocket)
2. The rug you can be as snug as a but in. (A rug)
3. A basket you must not put all your eggs in. (A basket)
4. The goose that laid the golden eggs. (A big toy goose)
5. The door one kept the wolf from. (Front door, with number on it)
6. The drum he was as tight as. (A toy drum)
7. The lamb that lay down with the lion. (A toy lamb)
8. The smooth and the rough that it had to be taken with. (A piece of glass on a piece of sandpaper)
9. The post that he was as deaf as. (A tennis post with number on it)
10. The water that the fish was out of that someone was like. (an aquarium with no fish in it)
11. The broth that too many cooks spoilt. (Broth in bowl, greasy)
12. No bread that half a loaf would be better than. (Plate with knife and pat of butter)
13. Oil and water that would not mix. (Water in bowl with drops of water on it)
14. Hounds you could not hunt with with the hare. (Two china hounds)
15. The fine feathers that did not make fine birds. (Ostrich feathers peacock feathers etc)
16. A feather birds flocked together of. (A mina’s fether)
17. The fig I do not care for it. (A dried fig)
18. A dash someone cut. (A card with an ink dash across it slit with a knife-cut)
19. Moss the rolling stone does not gather. (Moss off a step)
20. Stones that people who live in glass houses should not throw. (Three stones)
21. A stone it was a throw of. (A smooth stone)
22. The pebble that was not the only one on the beach. (A small pebble)
23. The sticks someone was as cross as. (Two sticks laid crossways)
24. The chip he was of the old block. (A chip of wood)
25. The wood you could not see for the trees.
26. A thing that glitters but is not gold. (Some tinsel)
27. The mud he had to eat. (Mud on a plate with spoon)
28. The silver spoon that he was born with in his mouth. (Silver spoon)
29. The ointment the fly was in. (Pot of ointment, with label)
30. Pitch it was as dark as. (A small bit of pitch)
31. Hay you should make while the sun shines. (A bundle of hay)
32. The needle it was like looking in a haystack for. (A very small needle)
33. The needle whose eye it was as easy for the camel to go through. (A large needle with eye upmost)
34. The needle he was as sharp as. (A medium sized needle, thin)
35. A pin he did not give for you. (An old pin)
36. The new pin he was a neat as. (New pin)
37. Two pins for which I should do it. (Two old pins)
38. A pin you see and pick up, and all that day you have luch. (New pin on floor, with paper circle round it)
39. The point someone was willing to stretch. (The point of a pencil stuck through a card)
40. The two peas they were as like as. (Two green peas stuck on a card)
41. The five beans that how many made. (Five beans)
44. The silk purse not made out of a sow’s ear. (A silk purse)
45. A gnat that was strained at and the camel swallowed. (A mosquito)
46. The straw the drowning man clutched at. (A long straw)
47. Straws showing which way the wind blows. (Several straws all pointing the same way with N S W & E marked in ink)
48. Straw without which you cannot make bricks. (Chopped straw)
49. The last straw, that broke the camel’s back. (A straw. N.B. arrangement of these 4 exhibits)
50. A hair of the dog that bit you (crossed out)
51. A worm that turned (crossed out)
52. A nutshell to put the matter in. (An empty nutshell)
48. The water than which blood was thicker. (Water in bottle with label “distilled water”)
The hair was a failure; too hard and mistaken for the hair that could not be split
The worm should be omitted as it does not enjoy the show.
Oil and water were mistaken for oil on troubled waters.
The pocket was taken for “cut your coat according to your cloth”