1941 October
From LJT to Annette No 36
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
Oct 5th 1941
Darling Annette,
Aunt and Richard both gave a most favourable account of your look of health, in letters describing the fruit-picking week-end at Highways. How lucky we are, you and I and Romey and Aunt to have such good health - I must have been a bit liverish the other day, for I woke with a headache, which went on slightly till the evening, and it made such a difference to the zest of work in office. It must be frightful to have headaches nearly all the time as some people do.
Its a terrific temptation to Idris and myself to talk “shop” at home. Dad complains, and says he does’nt see why we should not be content to go on listening to his “shop” as he has trained me to do through long years. What with work and the necessity to think out all the arrangements of furniture in the house, attend to the details of repairs and of touching up and repolishing and planning work for the dhirzie who is coming to work for a week, I have had scarcely any time to think about you and the others, except in flashes. I thought of you all a lot when Charles Holmes was here last telling me about June. She seems without any sense of duty or of money. You probably know that she left husband and baby with Tippy in Egypt and came out here, where after staying a little time, with her father, she went off to various hill stations, staying with people till they got tired of her and then moving on somewhere else. She apparantly found a husband eighteen years older than herself a bore, and did not think she would go back to Egypt, but he has come on here, and they have gone for a trek in Kashmir, so presumably have made it up.
This all bears out the impression you had of her as a child. I am sorry for Doris and Charles, and I daresay a lot of her behaviour is due to natural temperament, but I should think it was greatly aggravated by the way they spoilt her.
I could write a little more, if I cut out having a small rest before going out to DumDum with Idris, but I should like a short siesta, for I feel sleepy, and I think a little self indulgence on Sunday is good.
Best love, dear daughter.
Mother
P.S. G.B.Gourlay writes that he thinks the parcels of sweets and tea went off in his name instead of mine. I hope they arrive safely.
Family letter from LJT No 36
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta
Oct. 5th 1941.
My Dears,
Everything has conspired against my writing this week. On Friday and Saturday lorries of furniture came in from Chinsurah, and my evenings have been taken up with checking and arranging, and so was my Saturday afternoon. Herbert went off to Darjeeling last night to attend the Commissioner’s Conference, and though I did not do much about his packing, there were small things to attend to. Unexpectedly we had to put up a young I.C.S. man, on his way to join his first district. He arrived on Thursday morning and left on Friday night. Mrs. Haldar came on Friday evening too, to make some final settlements about furniture, and last evening we had a visit from Charles Holmes, whom I had not seen since I came back, for he has been ill, not seriously, but slight fever, and generally out of sorts, so that he has not felt like coming out when his office work is done. I am fond of Charles and always enjoy a chat with him.
It seemed funny for Herbert to be going off to Darjeeling without me. He has the gloomiest forebodings about the Conference. The Ministers have been behaving so abominably, and the Governor is so weak, that Herbert fears for his own ability to control his rage! Some years ago we heard at first hand a good tale of one of the Burmese Ministers. He had got himself into a very awkward position about some case. His Secretary put the file up to him, with notes something of this sort –
1. If such and such action is taken it will involve Government in heavy expenditure, which the merits of the case do not justify.
2. If such and such action is taken it will involve breaking government’s pledged word (i.e. A public promise given by the Minister in question)
3. (Some other alternative, which I cannot remember, but equally sterile)
The Minister took his pen and wrote his remarks; “My God! What a mess”. That is what most of us feel about politics in Bengal at the moment. If the Englishman coming out to the Services are most of them like the specimen who stayed with us the other day, the mess will get worse and worse. This youth said he had been in the Army for a while. I should think they gave a whoop of delight at the prospect of getting rid of him on some other service. Idris said of him “Do you suppose no-one has ever kicked him in the pants?” Then meditatively he added, “But perhaps he has not consorted with the sort of people who would want to do so” That just about sums him up.
We have had a busy week in office, while other people have most of them been holiday making because of the Puja holidays. Herbert’s office has been shut, but he has been working at home at all sorts of things. One of the problems to which I can find no answer, is what sort of relaxation to find for him in the evenings and on holidays. He has given up tennis, golf and riding long ago. He does’nt like races. Walking in Calcutta is not pleasant, though we have been for short walks a couple of times this week. In Chinsurah he used to garden almost every evening, but he does not like the garden here, though it is quite a big one. It is a bit public, and also pruning shrubs and trees in this town is a dirty job, for they are covered with soot. The fact that he has been getting this slight temperature every evening has made it seem unwise to bathe, and my style has been cramped by the fact that I cant get a bathing cap to go on my head. There is news of our suit cases coming from Australia, and in those I have a cap which is just big enough. In the cold weather there will be plenty of people in the Saturday Club, which is only a short walk from us, and he will fall in with friends when he goes along to change his books. Just now the club is very empty, for so many people are away.
One event of some interest this week has been the inauguration of Bengal Time. We have always kept sun time, which is 24 minutes ahead of Indian Standard Time. We have now put our clocks on 36 minutes, making us one hour ahead of Standard. This is to enable as many people as possible to get home from their offices by daylight, but it has a great advantage in giving a little more time for being out of doors in the evening.
One evening this week I spent pleasantly with some people, (brother of my old friend Lady Fermor, and his wife) who are tremendously keen on Sikkim and spent six weeks wandering about in north Sikkim this spring. Before going to dinner with them, we went to see Harry and Winsome, and then Herbert went home, for he will not dine out.
Best love to you all.
LJT
From LJT to Romey
October 5th, 1941
Calcutta
My darling Romey,
The ribbon in this typewriter must be changed. It is so faint. This will seem silly to you, for I am doing a carbon copy to send. I think carbons on the back of each other are easier to read than the originals very often.
There have been quite a bunch of letters from home this week and more photos of Peg’s wedding. I’m so happy to be getting letters again. I was beginning to feel so lost without them.
The parcel for Cousin Susie and Helen went off a few days ago. I am hoping to write to Cousin Susie by this mail, but have so many things to cope with before tomorrow evening that I don’t know whether I shall find time. It seems rather dreadful to be rushed for time in writing to my family, but you know its because I am doing a job which I believe to be definitely useful, and that so much of my time outside office has to be given to my duties as a housewife. Those won’t be quite so arduous when once the furniture is properly arranged. Some of it has suffered rather while with the Haldars, and some of it would have needed repainting or polishing anyhow. It has suffered some damage coming in on lorries, for they are just hired lorries and not specially used to moving furniture, so things get knocked and rubbed. The mistri who used to work for me years ago in Ballygunge is proving most unsatisfactory, and is giving me a lot of trouble, so that much of my time has been wasted over him.
Charles Holmes was here yesterday evening, and he told me quite a lot about June. You know that at the age of nineteen she married a man eighteen years older than herself, and went out to Egypt. Recently she left her baby in Cairo with a nurse, and Tippy (Doris’ sister) and came out to India. It seems she is one of those people who is just crazy on going out, and must always have a crowd of adoring young men round her. Her husband didn’t want to go out every minute that he was not in office, so she got tired of being with him, and when she arrived here said she did not want to go back. She has been rushing about to all sorts of places, staying with people, till she quarrels with them and then moving on elsewhere. Now the husband has arrived, and it seems they have made it up, and are on a trek in Kashmir, but the baby is still in Cairo. Isn’t it odd and sad? She was always odd at school, wasn’t she? I remember Annette said she could not be friends with her because she was so unreliable. I am sorry for her parents, but to some extent they are paying for having spoilt her so badly all through her childhood and young days. Take note, my dear, and remember that if you marry a man years older than yourself, the chances are that he won’t want to be gadding round to dances and such all the time! I can scarcely picture you behaving like June is doing. Added to other troubles, it seems she has no sense of money, and just buys whatever she fancies and sends the bills to her father.
The time is creeping on all too fast, and I must get on with my letters to Aunt and to Richard and Annette. This afternoon I am going out to Dumdum with Idris to do a bit of flying. We shall leave here about 3:30 and stay out there for a grill dinner, because Idris says that driving home just after dusk in the Blackout, just when everyone else is coming, is horrid. It will give us the chance to go and visit two families out there whom we want to see.
Best love my darling,
Mother
Family letter from LJT No 37
8 Theatre Rd, Calcutta
Oct 11th 1941.
My dears,
After the long pause with no mail, it has been lovely to get so many letters, and our thanks go to you all for them. Harry came to take me to dinner at the Saturday Club on Monday last, and returning here after dinner, we enjoyed a lot of the letters to-gether. Winsome, you will remember has gone to Darjeeling for a short visit, and Herbert is up there for the Commissioners’ Conference.
It was just after Harry left on Monday night that I got the telegram with the sad news of Gerald’s death. How strange to come through all the dangers he has faced from time to time, only to be killed on an English road. There seems a sort of special sadness in the fact that there is no one left behind, near enough to him, to call for a letter of sympathy.
Herbert writes from Darjeeling that he is behaving beautifully, and has not burst into any rages. In fact he says he has positively acted as a peacemaker. He adds that other members, when he claimed this, remarked that his peace-making was a bit like Hitler’s. He arrived in Darjeeling in the most perfect weather he has ever seen up there, and achieved the journey up the mountains without a qualm, a thing which has never happened before. Sunday, the day of his arrival, was a perfect day here too, though a little on the hot side. Idris and I went out to DumDum about 4 o’clock, and flew for one hour and ten minutes. It was nice to be up in the hornet again. Its incomparably more fun than travelling in a big flying boat. Idris said he was going to fly a triangular course, and that I must follow it on the map and report to him exactly where we had been. It was really a bit too easy for me, as I know the country round this city so well from the air. For the last twenty minutes or so coming home, Idris gave me the stick. Its nice to feel the control of the machine in one’s hands, but I should hate to be responsible for landing! There was a beautiful sunset flaming along the Western sky before we landed, and as we sat on the verandah of the Club having a very late tea, about 6 o’clock, the full moon came up, looking enormous, and coloured like amber. It was very lovely above the palm trees. We had planned to drop in to see two different families who live at Dum Dum, but both households had gone away for holidays in the Hills, so we abandoned our plan of going back to the Club for a supper of eggs and bacon and tinned fruit which can always be obtained there, and came back into Calcutta, where we had a grill at Firpo’s and then went to see the first film in English produced in India. We feared it would be bad, but went out of curiosity. Oh! My dears! You can scarcely imagine how bad it was! If you had asked a few children about nine years old to produce a film or play, they might have brought you something like this, but their work would have had a certain ingenuous charm perhaps, which this entirely lacked. It starred Sadohna Bose, one of India’s famous dancer and film stars, who does dance beautifully and does not act too ba-dly, but she had no material to work on, and only sticks to act with. There were things incredible in it as false beards, so badly made that they looked like the sort made on a wire frame, and put on in half a second for comic charades. Poor India! She will have to learn a lot before she can produce films for the English speaking world.
Its been an interesting week in the office, and I have succeeded in fixing up with the Office Superintendent, a very capable gazetted Indian officer on high pay, that Miss Jacob, the lady Stenographer and myself, shall deal with all the straight forward correspondence and file all the papers of people who apply for interviews and come (or do not as the case may be) up to the time that they are actually appointed to a post. They then have to be transferred to another department. It took me a long time to work out a scheme of filing, less cumbersome than the Government one, but which, at the same time would satisfy the babus, and not clash with the accepted system. It seemed to me that one junior clerk spent almost his whole time “searching out” (his own expression!) papers for us. Now I have the files, loose leaf, and divided up into a number of catagories, at my elbow, and I hope to be able to produce any paper within a few seconds. First of all the head clerk said, “Madam, I fear Government will not supply such files”. “Then, Mr Chatterji” said I “I shall buy them myself” Chatterji almost fainted at this incredible idea. Later Amarnath Singh, the Office Superintendent, to whom I explained my plan before actually putting it to working order, immediately said that the department which deals with the storing of secret telegrams use just such files, and he has indented for them for me. I had all the papers of the past week brought to me, and had a happy time on Tuesday morning while Idris was away at the Tribunal, sorting them into their appropriate files. As a result of Miss Jacob and I dealing with this part of the work ourselves, we are getting letters and notices out to people on the day, or at latest, the day after we get their letters.
There have been interesting people in the office this week, too, including the man who is the accredited agent of the Czech Government in India, and who is looking after all the Czech refugees. As a matter of fact he was rather a nuisance and took up to much of Idris’ time.
12.10- 41. The Percy Browns, just back from Kashmir, arrived to call last evening. Its nice to see them again. As soon as they left I had to change, for I was going to have a grill at the Saturday Club with Walter Jenkins, and on to see “Meet Mr Doe”. Its a beautifully produced film, with subject matter, the possibilities of which are good, but actually it falls off into the most appaling sentimental slop. It is interesting though that so many of the big American films now, deal with the efforts of the single-minded fine young American to fight political bosses, and to clean up political life. The tendency is so marked, that it surely must have some background in the minds of the people.
The morning, which I had planned as lonely and quiet, and to be devoted to writing letters, turned out to be extremely busy. An elderly Anglo Indian, whom I came across at the office, is doing a lot of repairs, painting, polishing, and general furbishing up, to our furniture, and he came to get instructions about several things. Then the Public Works Dept Engineer turned up to see how petty repairs to the house were being done, and if I was satisfied (I was not, and never am with the P.W.D. which is a scandalous department) While looking round the house with him, I was called to the telephone. It was the Port Officer and Naval A.D.C. to the Viceroy, to ask if I could possibly give dinner to Mr Duff Cooper and Lady Diana today. They are arriving by plane from Delhi - - no Simla at 5.30, and he has to meet them, park them somewhere, give them dinner and see them off by the Darjeeling mail train at 9.30 p.m. He had rung up last Sunday, trying to get hold of Herbert, as he had had a wire from Simla telling him to meet the Duff Coopers off the plane from Singapore at 3.30, entertain them, and see them off by the Delhi mail. As he is living at the U.S. Club he did not quite know what to do with them, but said he might get further instructions from Simla. He did. Accommodation was arranged at the Great Easter Hotel, and a list of people was sent who were to be called to see Mr Duff Cooper. I was rather thankful they did not come here on the original day, which was last Wednesday, for my furniture mostly only came in on Monday, and it would have been awfully difficult to get the house reasonably tidy. I had to scuttle round this morning, for the house was full of mistris doing furniture, dhirzies fitting curtains, and P.W.D. workmen doing various jobs. Chaos has been reduced at least to apparent order. The cook was sent running off to the market to buy more food. I rang up Mrs Stanley, who is dining with me, to warn her and tell her to come early, and finally appealed to Percy Brown to send me flowers from the Victoria Memorial garden, so I think everything is in order for our distinguished guests. It will be interesting to meet them, or should be. I am sorry that Herbert is not back. He arrives to-morrow morning.
We had torrential rain during three days this week, and it has made the weather so cool that for the last two days we have scarcely used punkahs. I’m afraid we cannot hope that it is the Cold Weather yet. Its pretty sure to get hot again for a while.
Its about time I stopped, and I am not going to read this through so please forgive the errors, of which there are sure to be a lot.
Best love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Annette No 37
8 Theatre Rd
Calcutta
Oct 12th 1941
My darling Annette
Some spare moments, waiting for the Duff Coopers to arrive – I’ve not had a chance to write all day – That’s the worst of India – How ever many servants you have, if they have to tackle fresh arrangements, one has to see after it all onself – Mogul is awfully good – He has been working hard all day to-day to get curtains hung furniture back into place and the house generally, into some sort of decent condition. The huge drawing room looks nice now – My biggest flower jars full of apricot yellow or flesh pink cannas are a great asset – I miss the Chinsurah flowers – I always used to have such a lot in the house there – You say the wild roses have been so good this year – The time we were in Witham when you were a little baby, Auntie Do always used to say that your cheeks and the wild roses were just the same colour and much the same texture – and she liked to call them “little Annettes” – It was sad that, with her passion for babies and children she never had any of her own.
I meant to answer your letter in which you talk of not being able to get events in the War into focus till many months afterwards – The papers are infuriating, I agree – Dad is always cursing them, but over them, as over films and broadcasts, I am sure he fails to realize how much of the public has very poor intelligence. We are intrigued to see in to-days paper . . . .
13/10/41 And then the Duff Coopers arrived – and there’s been no time for letters in the 24 hours that have passed since then . . . . . To go on from where I stopped – We were intrigued to see the announcement of Sir John Anderson’s engagement in the paper – but I’ll have to tell of it and of the Duff Coopers next week.
Best love
Mother
From LJT to Romey
8 Theatre Rd, Calcutta
Oct 19th, 1941
My darling Romey,
This week is my selection of the proper time to send you birthday greetings, and I do so with all my heart. I hope you will not only have a happy birthday, but a long and happy life, and abounding good health. I wonder what you will get for your present.
I am so glad to hear that you thought of something that Cousin Susie really wanted for her birthday, and I hope the little bedside wireless is a success.
Congratulations on getting such excellent marks in your chemistry exam. Perhaps you have some sort of a natural flare for that sort of work. Anyway it is tremendously satisfactory that you are safely through the exam, and can start fair and square with the third year work. It’s nice to hear of the year’s events coming round again, and to see how at home you are now in the University and your Sorority and so on. The election of new members to those Sisterhoods, does indeed seem an elaborate thing.
Now I have to ask your pardon. You know that H.D. and Winsome were away last week. That meant my letter had to go alone. Owing to the visit of the Duff Coopers, I just could not get a personal letter to you written, and it did seem extravagant to spend 2 .14. 6 on one scrubby and not very interesting sheet of paper, so I just did not send it. I am sure you economical soul will sympathize. I have especially loved your last letters, that is the one telling about your doings at the Lake, and this other with your exam results, which reached us at the beginning of this week. John’s photos are very good indeed. I hope yours will be as successful. I am longing to see them. I wish Annette would have her photo taken. It is such an age since she did, and then it was not specially good.
Out at Tollygunge yesterday, we were back in the atmosphere of riding, and it occurred that you have not done much riding this summer. From your letter it would seem that you have been too busy with other things. I am sorry I have no horse these days, but if I had, I would not have time to ride it. I can only just manage to get the things I must do into the twenty-four hours, and even so, a good many which I would like to do, have to be left out.
The most popular event at the races yesterday was the Lady’s cup. There was a big field and some pretty frisky horses, but all the girls stuck on their mounts, and rode jolly well. The horse who was in the lead till almost the last, and came in second, was ridden by a stout Armenian woman, short and pudgy, who looked one of the least likely people in the world to be a successful jockey!
Dad will be telling you how he has bought himself a typewriter. He has got so keen on his exercises, that we often used to clash about the times at which we want to use this machine. You see, my ‘out of office’ hours are the same as his now. Formerly, most of my letter-writing used to be done when he was working.
Idris was excited at lunch today because there was a squirrel in a tree just opposite the windows. It was in a great rage, chirruping and jerking its tail at a cat, which was washing itself in a leisurely manner below the tree. Idris would love to have some squirrels in the garden to tame. He went out after lunch to get at closer quarters with this one, but I went off in the other direction, and don’t know what happened.
Now that I have got photos of you and Richard and Annette, and my pictures of snow mountains, hung in this little writing room, it begins to feel really mine. The family portraits are grouped over my writing table. You know I do feel that less modern and smart furniture has the advantage of making a house look like a real home. I miss Chinsurah’s flowers. There were such heaps there, and lots of ferns and grasses as well, that there were always bowls and jars of flowers or greenery all over the place.
I must stop.
From, Mother
Family letter from LJT No 38
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
Oct. 19th 1941.
My Dears,
Just about now there are a perfect nest of anniversaries. Grace’s birthday (good wishes and many happy returns to her!) To-day is the thirtieth anniversary of Herbert’s and my engagement: (We congratulate each other on still being on excellent terms ) It will be Annette’s twenty-second birthday in three days time: ( Long life and happiness to her!)
We have had two guests in the house this week, one expected, that is G.B. Gourlay, who arrived on Tuesday, and will be with us for about a month. The other is a new I.C.S. lad, who was to spend a day here on his way through to Darjeeling, where he was to spend a short holiday, after the qualifying exam for the I.C.S. He broke journey at Allahabad, while on his way through from Dehra Dun, where he has been doing his training, and there he fell ill a fever, so that his arrival here was delayed. When he did turn up last Monday, he brought instructions from the Civil Surgeon in Allahabad, that he was not to go straight to Darjeeling, but to get himself overhauled by a Doctor here. Of course we kept him with us, in spite of his protests. The Doctor (our old friend Col. Murray) told Mr Ross to go to bed and stay there for three days, as he was suffering from the aftereffects of Dengue. He was allowed up on Friday, but is to stay here quietly till next Wednesday. We have to abandon him all day, but he says that he has been living at such close quarters with other people for so long, that it is really a treat to have a little time to himself. Luckily he is a charming tall young Scotchman, with delightful manners, and very nice to talk to. I should not have been so pleased if it had been the dreadful youth who went through the previous week.
Its a very great pleasure having G.B. here. We are both fond of him, and he is no responsibility as a guest, for he is out at work all day, and has a mass of friends in Calcutta, and is a member of all the Clubs, so if we are busy or he gets tired of us, he has plenty of places to go.
Naturally having guests in the house takes up a bit of my already short spare time. I am still much occupied with furniture. I keep on having to look at things as they are polished or repaired, and deciding where they are to be put. A dhirzie is altering curtains to fit the new surroundings, and recovering cushions, and that sort of thing. So before I go to office, and when I come home in the evening, there are always a lot of things to see to. I now look forward to the 8th of November when the Grahams, who left quite a lot of furniture here, are due back, and can be asked to remove their stuff, for at present it rather crowds mine out.
Last Sunday I had looked forward to a completely quiet day. Herbert was still in Darjeeling, and I had meant to do my mail at leisure and get off a lot of Christmas letters. How differently things turned out! The furniture mistris were all over the place, and the dhirzie was getting instructions from me about making and altering curtains, when Capt. Bluett, Port Officer and Naval A.D.C. to the Viceroy, rang up to say that he had to meet the Duff Cooper at 5.30, give them dinner, and see them off to Darjeeling at 9,30 P.M. I think I told you all that last week, and now only have to add my impressions of them. They were very nice, easy, pleasant people to deal with. Lady Diana is still extremely pretty, and vivacious. She is not at all blasé or bored with things. We talked about the Schwe-Dagon Pagoda in Rangoon, and from that got on to the subject of other Budhist Monasteries. She asked if there were any monasteries near Darjeeling, and I told her about Ghoom. A couple of days ago, I had a letter from Capt Bluett, who had seen the Duff Coopers through Calcutta again, on their way back to Singapore. He gave me a long message from Lady Diana, saying that when she was asked what she would like to see in Darjeeling, she chose Ghoom Monastery, and that she understands my enthusiasm, and is grateful to me for having told her about it. On the morning of the day they dined with us, there had been a notice in the paper that Sir John Anderson is engaged. The D.Cs had not seen this, and were much interested and amused. It seems there is a certain high post which Sir John might, and now probably will fill, for which it is essential to have a married man. The lady chosen, says Lady Diana, will be most suitable.
The few hours that the D-Cs spent here, were very pleasant. It would have been interesting if we could have heard a bit more of his impressions of India and of the countries a bit further east, of which he has seen a great deal more, but one ca’t question people too much, especially men holding positions of great public trust. Lady Diana loves Singapore. She says it is one of the nicest towns she has ever known. They have taken a little house there. I was sorry Herbert was not here to meet them.
Herbert arrived back on Monday morning, looking very well, and with bits of skin peeling off the end of his nose. The Commissioners’ Conference went off without any major storms, but accompanied by a great deal of futility. The triumph of the expedition was that Herbert got up to Darjeeling and down the mountains again without feeling sick. He had beautiful weather for the first part of his stay, and no really bad days.
The week has been the usual routine, which sounds dull, but in practice is not The work in Office continues to be interesting. One day I told the typist, Miss Jacob, that there was no need for her to stay so late. I had heard that she often stayed till nearly seven. She said she did not mind staying at all. She added that the work is so varied and so interesting, that she would just as soon be in office as at home, unless she has anything very special to do. Is’nt that a nice spirit?
We made a great effort yesterday afternoon, and took G.B. and Mr Ross out to the Gymkhana races at Tollygunge. I dont know that we were very thrilled by the races, but we met a great many friends, and G.B. met still more. Later in the evening we went on to a house near by to attend a cocktail party in honour of a christening, and there we met more old friends. Calcutta is filling up again now. Many people have been away for holidays, and women and children have been up in hill stations. Each day sees more and more returning.
G.B. and I have spent a lot of time looking at the photos of the New Zealand mountains, and talking about them. We also often get on the subject of the Sikkim hills, and pull out photos of them. G.B. has a whole lot of pictures and maps spread on the table now.
A few minutes ago I had to interrupt my writing to go and have a few words with an old Indian friend of ours, who has been paying a very long visit to Herbert. He is a nice old boy, who retired a few years ago from a billet as Director of Land Records, which is at the top of the Settlement Dept. He gives us long dissertations on the beauties of Hindu philosophy, which are interesting, but which would be improved by being cut by about three quarters. I devoted about a quarter of an hour to listening to him, and then told him I must go back to attend to my children’s letters. Maternal duty is a thing dear to the heart of every Indian, and he willingly excused me. In order to shift him and free Herbert, I went back a few minutes later, and reminded Herbert that our two guests would like to be taken round to the Saturday Club, to listen to the band, have a glass of shandy and meet a few people. The three men have now gone off, and I can write in peace. The trouble is I have not much more to write about. We moan about Indian politics, and communal feeling, and we anxiously watch the news from Russia and the other fronts. The weather did get a bit hotter again, after the exceptionally cool days I wrote about last week, but we can smell the cold weather on the way. Harry and Winsome are back from their holiday in Darjeeling, looking very well, and saying they enjoyed themselves. We took Mr Ross round there on Friday evening for a drink, and had a great greeting from the dog Maxie. Harry has been in the habit of going out to play a few holes of golf before breakfast on three or four mornings of the week and he does not like the new daylight saving on this account. At 6 a.m. it is still almost dark, and there is a tendency to sleep on. I have found that, and have been losing about half an hour of time each morning by not getting up till 6.30. I think perhaps it is a good thing, because I feel less tired in the evenings.
I have tried to get a few Christmas letters off this week, but have only done very few. To all those to whom I have not written personally, here is a message of love and greetings from us both. Will this letter be in England by Christmas I wonder!
Love, as always
LJT
Family letter from HPV
October 19th, 1941
(handwritten note from LJT at top of letter – Best love to you and apologies for not having written a personal letter. Mother)
My dear Annette (handwritten salutation)
The red ribbon (on the original) is to save waste. There is a two-colour ribbon on this machine and not much prospect of using it unless I type complete letters in red; merely to pick out bits in red does not appeal to me as at all sensible.
Your mother has done the dirty on me by putting in her letter not only all the news common to us both but all that happened to me alone; and there is therefore nothing at all for me to tell. Except maybe the sad tale of my fall. Going out to dinner in Darjeeling, at my pal Mr. Dash’s up the hill behind the club: I had decided not to go the short cut up the steps (60 or thereabouts in number) because there is an evil smell to be passed on the way; so I asked Mr. Fawcus which of several paths from the road I should follow. He said the second. But he must have forgotten that there is a blind path leading to a private house and a much smellier smell between the first path and the real second; I followed this blind path blindly for there was no lighting on it, and at a given moment where there was a curve stepped off it into a ditch and fell prone. There was a culvert just there and I fell with my chest flat on the side wall of it; astonishingly it did not hurt though I felt a bit shaken. However since my return I have been extremely stiff in the chest and there are spots acutely tender; so that I have announced the possibility that my ribs are cracked. Not believing it in any way till today when I begin to wonder that the pain is still there and whether in jest I have not spoken truth.
The Darjeeling conference was noticeable for the absence of rows this year. It was only on the first day that I flamed up to any great extent. There was much likely to rouse trouble but I had spoken my mind on those items before, and the trouble was confined to two new points. Considerable disappointment among the gentlemen present, for it is only when I make a row that there is any interest in the proceedings. To tell the truth I am not over-pleased at this pretence that I am rowdy and quarrelsome; it is merely fate that I cannot keep out of any row in the neighbourhood.
Brother Harry has been rebuking me again for putting so much on one sheet of paper. He favours wide margins and less matter; and he insists that at least I should leave two blank lines between paragraphs. It is more difficult to bear in mind the need for such things than to type and heaven knows that the typing remains difficult enough. In the car coming down and going up too I practised fingering; in the hope that I should persuade my little fingers to stretch further. They seemed indeed to supple out a bit; and maybe it was in part this that saved me from car-and-mountain sickness. This and the fact that the engine was a bad one so that the car had perforce to go slowly.
Work has been dull of late. No chance of getting onto my figures about rainfall and paddy-outturn. And it is strange to think that most people would regard these very things as boredom itself. I am now Chairman of the National Service Tribunal, that is the tribunal which hears appeals against calling up notices. It makes a lot of extra work, because the hearings have to be fixed at the earliest possible date and this means telephoning to the members personally to find out what days will suit. With our Calcutta telephone, this means an infuriating waste of time especially when I am trying to get hold of the Brigadier in the Fort; the standard of efficiency in the Fort telephone exchange could hardly be lower. As to arrangements about air-raid work, progress is very slow. The heaviest part of it, fire-fighters, steps against panic and repairs to water-supply roads and such, has been thrown back onto the district officers, who simply have not the staff to deal with it all. If one had the time and had the staff, it would be not uninteresting: but the Lord knows what will be the confusion if the Japs come over before we get things a little sorted out. Not that there would be any particular military damage if they decided to drop a bomb or two in my jurisdiction; thank Heaven that I am not concerned with Calcutta.
The small type of this typewriter presents certain advantages from the point of view of letter writing. I much suspect that ere long Joan will seize upon it for her own correspondence. Progress is slow, or non-existent. In the evenings, owing to a curious habit that I have of running a slight temperature, I lack the energy to practise; and my absence in Darjeeling was pure waste of opportunity. Now I must give my mind to the task of learning the numeral and miscellaneous keys. How I got the paper so crooked in the machine I cannot imagine.
(handwritten addition) Prompted by your mother, I am thinking many happy returns of Wednesday to you, and, unprompted, what a lot you have done already compared with me at your age. I think highly of you, my dear daughter
Much love
Dad
(to Romey) Many happy returns. I add to your dear Mother’s, my praise of your work. It is worthwhile putting your back into it, even if the acquired knowledge turns out to be of no practical use, as all mine was.
Much love,
Dad
From LJT to Annette
8 Theatre Rd
Calcuttta
Oct 22nd 1941
My darling Annette
Your birthday, and I’ve been thinking of you off and on since morning – wondering whether you have been able to manage any little celebration, and remembering past birthdays. There was a year in Darjeeling when we had a picnic lunch in the Botanical Gardens – you must have been eight or nine then – On your third birthday we were on a B.I. Boat coming out from home, and the fat Scotch chief steward, (who was a great friend of Nannie’s) arranged a big splash of a birthday party for you. There was a big pink and white sugar-cake, decorated with Alexandra Day Roses – and roses all up and down the tables, with crackers and a baloon for each child. I wonder whether you enjoyed it. Its so hard to tell with young children.
Its the great feast of the Id to-day – and so we have not had an evening paper – Every now and again I feel my mind turning restlessly to-wards the wireless – seeking news of the fighting in Russia. I suppose the Nazis are not really inexhaustable, but it sometimes almost seems like it. I like the plain BBC news best of any. It avoids the papers “headlineyness”. Our best daily paper, The Statesman, is not much of a sinner over headlines. It never goes in for big splashes right across the page – but there’s a horrid little evening paper, owned by Mohammadens, which goes in for frightful headlines that often bear little relation to the news below them –
Its 10.25 pm, so I want to tidy away my writing things and fetch my knitting, ready to listen in a 10.30 – pm. I’ll add more later.
23-10-41 In office – but oddly enough, not in the lunch hour, which was completely taken up with telephoning to various hospitals to find a room for our guest, Donald Ross, whose fever has flared up again, with a violent headache – so that the doctor wants him somewhere where he can be under observation. Poor Boy! I’m sorry for him. Its wretched being will anywhere, but its specially wretched when you have only recently come out to a strange country like India – I’m thankful he was with us, and not alone in a hotel – for even when he’s in hospital, we can still keep in touch with him, and I’ll enrol a few people to go and see him – He’ such a nice fellow and he has been so worried by the idea that he landed himself on us – for he was only meant to spend a day. By the way he was up at Oxford just before the war and knew Jock Hamilton and richard’s friend Galbraith. I hope this illness wont turn out to be anything very serious.
Occasionally we get a slack quarter of an hour – (or rather I do) in the afternoon, when there happens to be a gap between applicants for posts. As a rule I’m kept pretty busy. I’ve got my own filing system going now and it appears to be working alright –
Sorry! Being so busy, with so much of my mind taken up with my job and a lot more by household cares, does not conduce towards interesting letter writing! Best love, darling - Mother
Family letter from LJT No 39
8 Theatre Rd
Calcutta.
October 26th 1941
My Dears,
Uppermost in my mind at the moment, are several cases of illness. Dont be alarmed! The cases are not in the family, but amongst friends or dependents. Young Ross had a sort of relapse or return of the fever on Wednesday evening, and retired to bed with a splitting head and a temperature. After a wretched night, his temperature was 103’ in the morning, so I phoned for the doctor. Col Murray said to try and get him into hospital. There was no room available, so I got in a nurse. We had to get a night nurse for him too. It seems like a very bad attack of malaria, but there are other symptoms the last two days which make the doctor rather worried. If he does not think better of the lad this morning, we are to try again for a bed at the Presidency General Hospital for him. It is wretched luck for him getting so ill only a few months after he has arrived in the country.
Next, the Driver had a letter saying that his wife was very ill at Chinsurah, so we let him go home. The next day (Saturday) he phoned to say that she was very bad indeed, and on Monday he sent news that she has typhoid. She was much better on Tuesday, and he came back on Thursday. The latest is poor old Bhim Das, who has been ill with dysentery ever since we came back, is terribly ill. He would not go to hospital, but got treated by some quack doctor, who probably gave him opium pills to stop the symptoms, and presently the disease broke out worse than ever. On top of that his old mother died and that he insisted on fasting, though on account of his illness, it would have been in order for this custom to be waived. I have just heard that he dragged himself all the way to Kalighat, Calcutta’s great Hindu temple, to perform some ceremonies connected with his mother’s death, and nearly died during the night there. Three days ago, I sent one of the other servants to get news of him, thinking he was much better and would soon be well enough either to come back, or to go to his country for a few months till he was quite strong again. It was only then I heard that he was terribly ill again, so I had him sent into hospital and Herbert and I went to see him yesterday evening. We were shocked to find him just skin and bone, and looking as if he might die any moment. I sent his brother-in-law to see him this morning, and have just got news that he is distinctly better this morning, which is a great relief. I had felt that I ought to have done more to see after him, but as he insisted on going away to live with some relatives, it was difficult for me to keep any track of him.
On the lighter side of life, we can tell how we went to a silly film on Sunday afternoon. It made us laugh a bit, but I have already forgotten its name and what it was about. One evening we went to before-dinner drinks with friends just back from Kashmir, and on several evenings people have been in to see us. Helen Gourlay joined our house-party yesterday, and we went out to the races at Tollygunge in the late afternoon, Herbert and I, I may say, more for the outing and to see a few people and have a walk over the golf course when the races were over. The weather is so much cooler the last few days, that walking is pleasant. We went a walk on Sunday evening round about the Victoria Memorial Gardens, and enjoyed a beautiful sunset.
This week has been the end of the Mohammedan fast, and on Wednesday someone, somewhere having spied the New Moon, the feast of the Id was held on Thursday. Young Ross came up to office with Idris and myself, for the roof of our office is a splendid place from which to watch the great mass praying on the maidan. We all climbed up to the roof (having gone down a little early on purpose) and saw the huge crowd, all facing towards Mecca, and each with his prayer mat spread before him, join in the bowings and prostrations of the prayer ritual, the movements spreading from the centre to the edges of the crowd, like ripples of the sea.
I am finding my feet more and more in the office, and am able to tackle problems unaided, that would have puzzled me completely a week or two ago. On Friday we had a tailor to see us, who had just arrived on an evacuee ship from Japan, and we have been able to fit him it to a post in the big harness and saddlery factory at Cawnpore, where he can join immediately, which is lucky, for these poor folk have not been allowed to bring anything except their personal luggage away with them. The work will be supervising the making of huge quantities of canvas things, rather different from clothes. I’m not starting another page.
Best love, to you all
LJT
Family letter from HPV
Calcutta.
October 26th 1941.
My dear Annette (handwritten name)
Yielding to the persuasions of Brother Harry, I have adopted the professional method of adjusting the carbon papers after inserting the sheets of paper in the machine. The results were disastrous: for after typing half a dozen lines I found that I had the carbons reversed, and had to start again.
The news of the week, headlined, is perhaps the audacity of a crow. Once or twice I have had to indicate my disapproval of the crow habit of entering the drawing-room and sitting on the electric fan; but this animal has gone further. It not merely effected an entry but went off with booty; to wit, several ivory Netsukes off the mantle piece. In particular the agreeable figure of the rabbit rowing the moon along with an oar. Alarmed by cries the crow dropped one of the things, but some three or four are missing.
It has been an annoying week. To start with there were three days of holiday, for a Hindu festival and for the celebration of the end of Ramazan, and then Government sudden, for no reason at all except that the Moslems want to have as many holidays as the Hindus proclaimed yet two more days to be holidays also. So there has been only one working day in the week, which means that the work has had to be done without clerks and that there are accumulations of arrears. Perhaps the real annoyance is that they should do this silly thing while there is a war on. I admit that I have cleared off the files that were with me, except of course that interminable thing about what to do if there is an air-raid - and that can be finished only when the people on the spot get the facts together. And so I spent most of one morning trying to learn the keyboard, top line, numerals and such.
The youth is laid up with some obscure disease, probably malaria. Rough luck on him to get so nasty an attack so soon after starting life in India. Much of one morning went on telephoning all over the place for information whether there was a bed in any of the hospitals to which he might be sent. There was not. Or rather there was just one in the Tropical Diseases Hospital, that fell vacant suddenly. The nurse whom we had called in when we heard that no hospital could take him had just arrived and said that she would take him down there; unfortunately. In half an hour she was back saying that the accommodation provided was merely in an open ward with Indians of the poorest class and that no one had known anything about the reservation. It turned out afterwards that she had been to the wrong hospital altogether. So we still have him here. The practical disadvantage is that the day and night nurses are much more expensive and that any tests, which would be routine in a hospital, are to be paid for separately while he is in a private house.
Twice I have been out to Tollygunge Club. On Friday afternoon I took Winsome out there to te: afterwards we walked. Those two ridiculous Dachs, Max and Archie, provided the amusement, though it was a lovely evening in itself with good light effects. Archie galloped madly away towards a tank (neither of them has the least idea of obeying an order – for strange to say Winsome thinks it rather amusing when they disregard her calls) and eventually returned with his ears flapping wildly like Piglet’s. Seen from afar, they looked quainter than caricature:, from close at hand inconceivable.
It had been in my mind to tell you that I had attained to some proficiency on this machine; but on second thoughts I shall wait awhile. Did we ever till you that I bought a spelling book? The EUP Teach Yourself to Spell. It was really for myself but Joan at once assumed that it was for her and keeps it on her desk. What is difficult about spelling is not ignorance but a sort of aphasia. Just as the typing mistakes occur in words about which one is quite confident. In this machine the snag is that my nails catch on the rim of the key higher up; hence the t for g of which there are several examples. Brother Harry who knows about such things says that it is caused by sitting too near the work. He has good views on lay-out but me, I prefer to save paper.
Ah! I was almost forgetting to tell of my Broken Ribs. You remember how like Lucifer I fell in a ditch in the dark on a Darjeeling road? without pain. This desirable condition lasted till I returned to Calcutta. Then maybe under the influence of some physical jerks there began to be discomfort and at last I went to Col Murray who put me into strapping which makes me bend my chest in and my back out. A bruised rib probably; nothing broken. But it’s a nuisance and makes me want to scratch.
Much love Dad
(handwritten addition) Little room left for writing, because of the carbons mistake. Your letters are interesting though I suppose they seem to you humdrum when you despatch them. Give news of your fencing. Did you ever get my alphabetical sentences if so why have you composed none?
(to Romey) So small a scrap of paper left for personal messages that my mind is a blank. So humdrum my life that it gives not data for discourse. Thank heaven I never had to join a sorority. It would have give me the grisly creeps to be committed to formal jollification. But how wise of you to join and further it! I have lost a lot by inability to plunge into such things.
Much love,
Dad