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The Townend Family Letters

Correspondence from the 1930s - 1940s between members of the Townend family
HPV + LJT Letters 1942 to 1944

1942 July

Family Letter from LJT  No 25 

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta

July 4th 1942

My Dears,

Mails have come from England to cheer us.  Winsome has handed on a letter from Grace dated April 27th, which enclosed one from Anne to us dated Apr. 29th, while Richard’s letter by sea, dated April 15 only arrived in Calcutta five days later.  Thanks for all of them.  We still wait eagerly for letters from Canada.  I wonder when we shall get our next batch.  Romey’s last letter was dated the 22nd March, and as far as I remember took about a month to get here, so it is over two months since we had anything from Canada.  I wonder whether our letters are taking as long to get there.

Thank goodness we have had a good deal more rain this week, so that the situation about the crops is not so serious, and the weather has been a great deal cooler.  Its nice to see the maidan suddenly turn from brown to green almost in one night.  Its not such fun for the R.A.F. and thick low clouds limit their activities a great deal.  It was a nice surprise to find John Pennifer sitting in the drawing room when I got back from office yesterday.  He was the first of our R.A.F. lodgers, and the one we have liked much the best.  His squadron has just come to the outskirts of Calcutta, and though he will not be able to live in Calcutta, he will be able to get in here fairly easily in off time.  The Libyan affair hurts us all badly enough, but it holds a personal sorrow for these lads who have fought over all that country.

Jumping back to the subject of rain, Darjeeling had rather more than was good for it at the end of last week.  Thirty-five inches in two days, falling on loose mountain-sides, is apt to carry away a good deal of soil, and in this case it did, taking plenty of tea-bushes, fields of maize, roads and bits of railway line with it, so that for several days it was difficult to keep up communications with Darjeeling.  One small result was that we got no Darjeeling vegetables for some days, and had to rely on such varieties as grow hereabouts in the hot and rainy season.

My poor Herbert has had a bad week.  A few weeks ago he had a tooth out; an old warrior, which had been stopped and crowned and messed about with years ago.  It seems that some tiny bit of bone must have got left in the gum, and have set up some inflammation, which started up the more general, but agonizing pain right across his cheek.  The dentist could not do anything except recommend some soothing tablets, so Herbert had two bad days, with severe bouts of pain.  Luckily the trouble seems to have quieted down, though he is not aware that the offending chip has worked its way out.  Its lucky that matters did improve, for a Commissioners’ Conference has been going on for the last two days, which Herbert has had to attend.  We had a visit yesterday evening from Olous Martin, commissioner of the Division bordering on Bengal.  He told us a tale that I think is quite harmless to repeat, for it is about small local affairs, and anyhow, it is now past history.  Chittagong lies at the top north-east corner of the Bay of Bengal, bordering on that part of Burma known as Arakan.  Muslims, descendents of the Arab pirates who flourished in these seas about three hundred years ago and settled in Chittagong, have drifted across the border from time to time, till large numbers of them were settled in Burma.  There was no love at all lost between them and the Arakanese.  When Akyab fell recently, and the civil administration of Burma more or less ceased, these two rival parties at last had a chance to indulge in the fight they had so often longed for.  The Arakanese were egged on by the anti-British Burma party, known as the Takins.  Several battles took place in which some hundreds of people were killed, and a good deal of looting took place.  Then the Muslims suggested that the Takins should come and discuss terms of peace, which they did.  The Muslims without any coaching from “Mein Kampf”, seemed to understand treachery perfectly, and ambushed and killed the Takins on their way home.  The Takin party then took refuge in some biggish town, which the Muslims proceeded to besiege.  Meantime the R.A.F. having got word that this disloyal element had gathered in that special place, dropped a couple of bombs there on one of their raids.  This so delighted and encouraged the Muslims that they stormed the town and killed most of the remaining Takins.  All this, mark you, was purely local fun, and bears no relation to the war!  The Japs have not come up to those parts yet.  These Chittagonian Muslims form one of the reservoirs for Indian sailors or Laskars.  Many of the men you see on the great ships, wearing blue djibbas, often elaborately embroidered with arabesques in coloured thread, come from this isolated part of Eastern Bengal.

5.7.42.  So much was written yesterday afternoon.  Now it is Sunday morning.  I devoted yesterday evening after tea to domestic matters, such as paying the servants, checking monthly accounts and such.  I have not once managed to get round to the hospital this week.  I stayed in on purpose to attend to various letters and affairs connected with the Himalayan Club on Monday and Tuesday, and since then someone has been in each evening.  It seemed quite like old times on Wednesday, when a young Swiss member of the Himalayan Club, who has just come back from a holiday in Sikkim, brought photos and a sketch map, to show me where he had been.  He has added a nice little bit to a specially lovely trip I did in north Sikkim some years ago, and for a while we lost ourselves in the mountains and almost forgot the war!

As a matter of fact I have had rather a field day with the Himalayan Club.  Papers were getting a bit out of hand, as I never seemed to have time to file them.  I arranged with the Club Clerk to come here last Sunday, and he spent the whole morning filing for me, so that everything is now up to date.  I carried on the good work in the evening, when Charles Crawford, who is our Equipment Officer, and I went round to our Equipment Store, and took a look over everything, to see that precautions are being taken to preserve things through the rainy season.  It is a great problem in this country where mould and rust, and moth, as well as cockroaches and fish insects, corrupt most things that are left uncared for, at great speed.

Calcutta, especially the Saturday Club, has resumed a more normal appearance since the Rains broke.  I was in the Club for a drink and a dance or two after the Pictures last night, and there were quite a reasonable number of females there, and a good sprinkling of Calcutta’s elder male citizens in plain clothes, so the room and the bar no longer gave the impression of being an annex to the R.A.F. mess.

The more cheering news from Libya had lightened hearts a bit I think, and there seemed a more cheerful air about than there has been for the past week or two.  The film we had been to, was a poor show, with the noblest sentiments, which evidently appeal to the troops for it has been running for three weeks, and the cheaper seats were still packed with Khaki.  It was “Sundown”, about an outpost of Empire in East Africa.  Earlier in the week I unwillingly went to a film with Idris, which had the non-committal title of “Remember the Day”.  It was a slightly sentimental, but charming story, with Claudette Colbert in the big part, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

My work has slacked off a bit during the past ten days, for the stream of candidates from Burma has almost dried up.  I have had plenty to keep me busy, but I have been able to leave office on several evenings at 5 p.m. (Strictly speaking I am supposed to go at 4 p.m)  Idris is as busy as ever, for he has such a lot of elaborate work connected with the huge training scheme, with which I have nothing to do.  I actually took an afternoon off in the middle of the week and had my hair permed.  For ages now it has had no curl left in the ends and has been a bother to keep in order and “do” quickly.  I went to a new place, which is air-conditioned, and liked it very much.  Its a tremendous boon being in a cool atmosphere, and not having a fan blowing ones hair about, when it is being fiddled with for hours.  I had a good sleep during part of the time I was there.

Best love to you all

LJT


From LJT to Annette No 25

8 Theatre Rd
Calcutta.
July 5th 1942

My darling Annette,

Your allotment is interesting us much. If you dont find the work of keeping it in order too much, on top of what you are doing already it will be splendid. Dad, is of course, specially interested in your plans for making humus.

I feel worried and rather depressed about him. The slightest thing bowls him over. His own work becomes a weariness, and his leisure a struggle to recoup a little energy, with which to takle the next job. He has just been asked by the governor whether he would take on a very big “All India” job. (I dont know whether it is confidential and as he is sleeping at the moment I cant ask him: therefore I do not mention what the post is) He refused, because he says, and quite truly that he would collapse before a month was over. He was quite right. He could not possible have stood that strain, but its sad for him to have to recognize the facts and refuse.

What bad luck that you should be afflicted with a dropped arch. I am glad you have taken steps about it, and I hope it will be possible to get it right again fairly soon. Do you remember the School doctor said Romey was inclined to flat feet? I dont know whether the two things are in any way related, or whether there is a family tendency towards anything of that sort.

How maddening to go to see “Fantasia” and find the Bach Toccata and Fugue left out, for in my opinion, they are streets ahead of the rest of it. Next I would put the Nutcracker Suits, I think, and then I dont know! I would have liked the Apprentice, if only the character had been a proper apprentice and not Micky. The “Pastoral Symphony” I definitely disliked. “The Dance of the Hours” was amusing, but I would have liked it done to less fine music, and shown as a Short in some other programme. I have forgotten what music was used as the basis of the horror-piece, but I do know that the effects of horror and fear were nothing like as effective as was achieved by the Russian Ballet in “Symphonie Fantastique” in the Fifth Movement. Have you ever seen that Ballet? It is Berlioz’ music, and its a wonderful ballet.

There was an interruption here by Peter Fraser, who came running back from Office to say that he has just received orders to go off to Asansol to-morrow. He will be sorry to leave the comforts of Calcutta but very glad to get back into the Air again, and feel he is doing a more war-like job. He is a nice young man, but just a little too pleased with himself, and a little too anxious to show that he is always doing the smart and perhaps rather fast or foolish thing. John Pannifer had not an atom of that in him, and therefore a much more attractive character, actually although at least three years younger, a much stronger character, I should say.

Jumping back to my previous train of thought, which was following your letter: let me say that I most throughly agree with you about this absurd distinction between highbrow and lowbrow, and the sooner its got rid of the better. If good stuff of whatever class is put in the way of simple people, I am sure they prefer it to bad, provided it is not obscure.

* * * * * *

It is now 7.30 P.M. and I have not had a free moment since I left off writing at 12.30 this morning. The servants had made confusion about the drinks. We can get quite good country gin at a reasonable price, and it is the only alcoholic liquer I keep in the house now. Mogul came up to ask for some to put into the “Hedingham Cup” I had ordered for lunch. I had thought there was a bottle in reserve, but Ismail, the upstairs bearer, who looks after drinks before meals, had failed to report to me when the last bottle was opened, thinking that as I said no more whisky was available, gin would be out of stock too. I was expecting guests, four of them, to lunch, besides the people in the house, and I felt awkward about not being able to offer them even a gimlet, so I rang up a couple of friends houses in the neighbourhood, to see whether I could borrow a bottle of gin. Everyone was out. Then I tried the steward of the Saturday Club, and like a good soul he said he could let me have a bottle if I would promise to replace it to-morrow. I sent Ismail off on my bicycle, and he arrived back just as the first guests were walking upstairs! It was a very nice party. Just the sort of people I like, and they all got on well to-gether. The only trouble was they stayed a long time, and before they left, our young American, Ray Bos, and an even more youthful looking friend turned up. They had been allowed leave into Caluctta for Independence Day yesterday, and to stay over till this evening. Ray was quite talkative, and ready to be teased, and the other was a nice youngster. Unfortunately Dad and I were going out to tea with H.D. and Winsome, but Coralie Taylor undertook to give the boys tea, and they planned to go on to the hospital and see our American sailor friend later.

It was good to see H.D and Winsome again. They have a very charming naval commander staying with them and a nice young airman called George, billeted on them. We all spent a happy evening drinking tea, walking round the garden and talking on the verandah, and did not get home till past 6.30

Winsome is looking all the better for her stay in Simla. All are interested in your humus making.

Best love.
Mother


Family letter from HPV

Calcutta.
July 5th

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

It occurred to me this morning that my observance of Sunday is confined to the making of squeaks. For some cause unknown it is the custom of the bearer to put out for me on Sundays a pair of sandals, which squeak beyond all known precedents, and I wear them though fair ashamed.

Weariness is heavy on me. On top of the Selection work (all my efforts failed to reduce the pending list appreciably; there are 225 candidates waiting for interviews still) on top of this there has been a three day Commissioners Conference. I abstained from bad temper and provocative talk, to some extent; sufficiently for people to comment on it. The Ministers were not so convinced of our wisdom and impartiality as we were ourselves.

Another at the moment cause-unknown thing is my keeping my watch an hour fast. I cannot remember why I did not alter it when the change was made from Bengal time to all-Indian; but there must have been a good reason and so I adhere to the practice and defend it. Perchance it was because we now have breakfast much earlier. I rise or rather wake and have tea at 6.30 and breakfast at a quarter to eight. It would be a grievance did I not remember that by the sun it is 7 and a quarter past.

Another week of abstinence from practice on this machine. It doesn’t seem to make much difference though it is true that my rate of typing is slow and mistakes are as you see. I shall make no corrections or trimmings up today.

The pun of the week is to be recorded. There has been bad feeling, it seems, at the U.S. Club because one member found a lot of tiny cockroaches in his iced soup: such things may happen anywhere almost because the little beasts are hard to deal with. So there was excuse when Idris, being asked what the closed in verandah along one side of the dining room was for, replied “It may be called an encroachment from the kitchen, or, shall we say, a cockroachment.”

I do not defend this.

This week has been made repugnant for me by neuralgia in the jaw and behind the ear. I renounced the attempt to hold out against it and took dope to deaden the pain. It worked to admiration. Four hours later when the pain returned and I resorted again with confidence to the drug, it let me down and I spent a tedious night prowling about and cursing and applying such vain remedies as iodine to the gums and menthol to the jaw. From this set-back and others less annoying I have not recovered though the neuralgia has passed away.

So it is that I gaze with gloom upon our lodgers and upon all guests and callers; and listen with gloom which would be anger if I had strength to the calls of cats, the squeaks of flying foxes in the peepul trees and other noises of the night such as Indian singings.

This day there is to be relaxation. A visit to H.D. and Winsome when there should be agreeable discourse and an interview with Maxie.

Joan seems well and happy. I neglect her, being too occupied with my own symptoms of tiredness in the evenings to attend to anything else. She enjoys her shop and there is a lot of it at times when Idris is in. But how much less interesting than mine as I frequently tell her!

It is a pity that the keys on this machine are so out of the straight. I should like to be able to make an exclamation mark that looked like one.

(handwritten addition) (Someday I shall write about humus. Why didn’t you study Bengali instead of Russian? I could have sent you a Bengali pamphlet.) Much love

Dad


Family letter from LJT No 26

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta
July 11th 1942

My Dears,

Do you ever have an urge to do some job, which has been hanging about for months as not important to worry about when one is really busy? This happened to me to-day. Our books were unpacked and put into the book-cases by the servants. Herbert has done some arranging of them time to time, but they were still more or less all over the place: books of poems cheek by jowl with books on how to play chess. Plays scattered amongst travel books and worst of all, sets of books such as the complete works of Kipling or G.B.S. distributed over the four book-cases. Something started me rearranging them after lunch today, and by the time I had finished, it was 3.45 and my brow was wet with honest sweat, and a good deal more of me besides. I always fancy books look so much better when they are properly arranged. They certainly give much greater aesthetic pleasure.

I confess I have been reading a little in bed each evening recently as a sort of drug against anxiety. It is wonderfully comforting that things look better in Egypt, but Russia keeps ones thoughts busy now.

For the moment the house has been abandoned by the R.A.F. Peter Fraser went off on Monday, sorry to leave Calcutta, but glad to be going back into the air. So far no one else has turned up. For a change, we have an I.C.S. man from Burma coming to stay a few days to-morrow. He is a possible candidate for a post in our Directorate, but there are various official matters which have to be cleared up, which entail his waiting about here in a state of uncertainty for a week or so, and he mentioned when he was in the office this morning that he can only stay in the Bengal Club till tomorrow.

Herbert, I am thankful to say, has made over the job of interviewing candidates for the Army to someone else. He would have collapsed if he had had to go on much longer. He has not had a return of the neuralgia this week and has been sleeping a trifle better, but still not at all well. What a wonderful day it will be when he can finish his official work, and be free of the burden of files tied up with red tape.

Our day last Sunday was rather full. There was a somewhat unusual event for these days. We had a small lunch-party. It was a pleasant one too, nice people who got on well together, and talk flowed easily. The only trouble was that they stayed late, and before they had gone the young American Air Force man, Ray Bos, who stayed here after he came out of hospital, turned up with a friend. They dont often get leave into Calcutta, but had come in the previous day on “Forty Eight hours” in honour of Independence Day. As ill luck would have it, Herbert and I were booked for tea with Harry and Winsome at 4 o’clock, but Coralie Taylor undertook to give the lads tea, and they then planned to go to the Hospital to see one or two men who were there with Ray and are still there. We had a delightful afternoon with H.D. and Winsome. They had a nice young R.A.F. man called George, living in their house, and a charming naval Commander staying with them. Their verandah is so nice, because it is on the ground floor, and looks right over the wide sweep of the garden to the South, so that one has the charm of the garden, with the comfort of being under a fan and sheltered from any showers. We strolled in the garden afterwards, and then Winsome and Herbert retired into Winsome’s office to talk Red Cross shop, and Harry and the other two men and I sat on the verandah and talked of many things. The naval man, (whose Christian name is Ken, but I never discovered what his surname was) was in command of one the ships that brought the last people away from Rangoon, many of whom have been in and out of our office and are working there now.

I am afraid I have neglected the hospital and devoted a bit more time to my household and the Himalayan Club this week. I don’t think there are many sick or wounded from Burma here now, but we have sort have adopted an American sailor, and feel we ought to visit him once or twice a week. I send him fruit and barley sugar every few days, and must try to go to see him again soon.

We are getting real heavy rain now, and had a terrifically stormy night on Thursday. The wind roared and whistled through the trees as if we were close to the sea. There is a huge peepel tree close the leaves of which rattle and sigh in the lightest breeze, since they hang loosely on fine leaf stalks. It is also an aviary for many birds and its twining roots make nests for the cats.

A good space in the papers each day is devoted to the speeches and doings of the Indian political leaders. I cant bring myself to read all that is reported, for much of it seems so out of touch with reality. Mr. Rajagopalachari, the Madras Prime Minister, is the only one who seems to see things as they are. He has always been far and away the best of the Congress Ministers. Now he is resigning from the Congress because he says he must have freedom to say and to preach what he believes. I dont know whether the metaphor he used was reported in the English papers, but I think it is rather good. He said “I have got out of the cart not to abandon it, but in order that I may extricate it from the bog wherein it has stuck, and push it forward.” If a larger proportion of Indians were like Mr. Rajagopalachari there would be a reasonable hope that they will be able to take over the Government of their own country without making a fantastic muddle of it. As it is, it is hard to see anything but chaos ahead. Dishonesty, graft and nepotism will, I fear, stalk the land. I am thankful that our time to go will be just as soon as the war ends. What a pity it is that the Indians are not interested in practical truth, instead of the sort of hyperthetical truth about whether God exists or not, and other obscure questions, which are what they mean when they talk about their love for truth. Little details like sticking to facts in their everyday dealings, leave them quite cold. I wonder whether it would have made much difference to India if her religions had each possessed a simple code of rules for behaviour like the Ten Commandments. The nearest thing I have come across is the Noble Eightfold Path of the Buddhist. It consists of Right Views, Right Aspirations, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness and Right Contemplation. There is nothing clear cut about The Path like there is about the Old Testament Code, and volume upon volume has been written to elucidate it, so that it is not of much use to the simple. That seems to me the trouble with all the Eastern Religions. - - they are, or have been allowed to become, so intricate, that they are of little use as a guide to conduct for the simple people.

12.7.42 I wonder why I became so philosophical last night! Ones mind sometimes goes searching for the reason for the mess and muddle in this country. Probably I have often expressed to you my belief that the profound reason underlying it all, is the widespread lack of respect for truth and honesty, and the frank acceptance by the Indian mind that it is right and proper for any man to get his friends and relations into jobs, however little they may be fitted for them, rather than use influence to get the right man into the right job.

Best love to you all
LJT

From LJT to Romey No 26


8 Theatre Rd, Calcutta
July 12, 1942

My darling Romey,

It seems quite a long time since I wrote you a proper personal letter. Its always more difficult to write these sorts of letters, when one has not has any letters for a long while. I do wonder what had happened to all of yours. I am certainly very hungry for news of you.
So often I have to spoil my Sunday mornings by getting angry with people. It is the only day on which I have time to go round the house, kitchen and garden, to see that things are being properly kept. Almost always someone has to be blown up about something, and the heat of anger adds to the heat of walking about, and makes one feel ruffled.
**
Here was an interruption of a very nice sort. It was a visit from Winsome, and the RAF man George Lucy, who is living with them. Winsome is looking so nice and well after her holiday in Simla. George, it turns out, is extremely interested in Alpine flowers, and began asking about the various mecanopsis. He has seen Mecanopsis Bayleii growing in Scotland. Unfortunately this conversation started only just as they were leaving, but we hope to go along there after tea this evening, and perhaps we shall be able to continue it.
I was amused in one of Chekov’s plays that I was reading last night, when the girl does not like the special brand of talk that is going on, and says “let us continue the conversation we were having yesterday afternoon”, and they do! It struck me as remarkable to be able to recreate the atmosphere and get an old conversation going again, for talk builds itself up in a sense, doesn’t it?
Mrs. Gurner was asking about you when I met her at dinner on Monday. She has been down here for a fortnight, and went back to the girls in Darjeeling a few days ago, taking Francesca with her for a short holiday. Francesca certainly deserves it, for she has been working magnificently, at the Hostel for the troops, and manages the men wonderfully. She is a most capable girl.
We get only brief reports in the papers out here about political happenings in Canada. I suppose the conscription issue caused a lot of talk and excitement. I am glad that the ”Fors” won.
How time has swept along! It won’t be long now before you sit for your degree, and we are faced with the problem of what you should do next. A little while back I felt quite hopeful of the war in Europe and Africa being over this year, but things don’t look so promising now. However this war has been full of such rapid changes, that no one can prophesy about it. I watch Dad so anxiously wondering whether he will be able to last out. He seems a bit better now than he was a week ago. Last weekend he was just so exhausted that he did not know what to do with himself. Getting rid of the extra job of interviewing candidates for the army has been a great relief to his feelings I think.
A certain Dr Harler, a distinguished chemist, who is now working as Chemical advisor to the Munitions Production Branch of the Supply Dept, was talking about the University of Manitoba. He was in Winnipeg a few years ago, and spent some time at the University. He was impressed with the standard of the scientific work being done there. As you may imagine, I was pleased to hear this, for on the whole, he is rather a critical person.
One of the things I am still not satisfied about in the arrangement of my bookcases is that I have not got all my scientific books together. One or two are rather big, and most of the others are small. All the same I think I shall gather them all into the bookcase in my writing room. These days I always seem to have a good many books out on loan. I like to have my books read, but it makes a lot of holes in the shelves.
The question of the four cats worries us now and again. They have grown up, and a villainous looking Tomcat is always hanging a round here these days. Three out of our four cats are females. What is going to happen if they all have families? I sometimes wonder whether it would not be best to pay the SPCA to send round and take the four away, and put them to sleep. They have had a jolly carefree life for seven or eight months, whereas if we had not fed them, Thomas at any rate, would have died! It is rather a difficult problem.
Annie’s and Richard’s letters still wait to be written, so this must be finished.

Best love, my darling,
Mother


From LJT to Annette No 26

8 Theatre Rd.
Calcutta.
July 12th 1942

My darling Annette.

We have been well off for letters from England lately. One from you and two from Aunt have come during the last few days, but still nothing from Canada. I am afraid some mails must have been lost.

Its nice that you have become so interested in your allotment. There is nothing like a bit of ground of your own, to bring out the love of the soil in one. I do hope your vegetables will do well, especially the onions, for to be short of onions must handicap cooking greatly.

I wonder whether you did see “Winter’s Tale” at Stratford. I suppose it is not a very good play, but I once saw it is enchantingly, gaily, freshly produced at the Old Vic, that ever since I have felt a love for it. Edith Evans played the Queen, and an enchantingly natural, pretty young girl, whose name I dont remember, played Perdita.

Being without anything special to read after dinner last night, and deciding that as it was Saturday, I would so indulge myself, I read another Tchekov play. “The Cherry Orchard”, which I had seen many years ago, and again I am struck by the strange fact, that although most of the characters behave in a way that no English people would do, one is still vividly conscious that they are real and very much alive. The opening of the play is striking. Do you know it? The house-hold waiting for the arrival of the Mistress who has been away for years. Instead of having everything concentrated on her arrival, the clerk and the maid and the valet and others, are still deeply interested in their own affairs, and give you a glimpse of what is going on in the house before Madam arrives.

Dad is taking a morning in bed on my advice. Its good for him when he has been very tired, and keeps him from unexpected interruptions. He did get up and come on to the verandah in his pyjamas when Winsome looked in after church, but has gone back to the couch in his room now, and wont be writing any letters this week. He sends love. Getting rid of the job of interviewing candidates, has taken a weight off his mind. It was definitely more than he could manage, and when he is really over-worked he cant sleep or digest his food. He seems a good deal better this week-end. Rather luckily Ray Bos and the other American boy whom I have invited to lunch and to stay on and go to the zoo, cannot come to-day, so we shall just be going along to H.D. and Winsome’s after tea. Winsome is looking so well and so nice after her holiday in Simla. On the hottest day, she always manages to look fresh and neat.

Just after reading your letter with its mention of your holiday in Wales, I was looking up some notes on attempts to climb a certain mountain called Choiomo in Sikkim, and found that Capt Finch had written some of them with a covering letter to me, from Capel Curig. I do hope you had good weather for your holiday. I shall love hearing where you went. I have my map of North Wales here, so I shall be able to follow it all even if memory fails. How vivid most of the places we went to still are to me. I have a lot of mountaineering boots, gloves, rucksacks etc in this room at the moment. A sporting girl, a member of the Himalayan Club, who has done from very stout climbing on her own in the Kulu region, West of Simla, has written down for equipment for four porters, and as I have little time to go round to the office, I have had the stuff sent here to check over. It makes me rather mountain sick to see it!

If you have read the family letter yet, I am sure you will understand the sudden urge to re-arrange my books. I feel so much happier about them now, but I still have not got all my scientific books to-gether in this room, where I should really like them. I have a few novels here, including “Tom Jones” in two vols, which can go into the drawing-room, and I can bring my own pets here.

Best love, and bless you!
Mother


Family letter from HPV

July 12th. 1942

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

The probability of my being able to write any thing good is small for I started the day by staying in bed for breakfast and have thus made myself fat-headed and given myself the feeling that I am half-sleep. Moreover I am typing without my glasses and so cannot see the product of my key-hitting. This puts me off to a strange degree.

My name is Isaac; for I have been saved from the sacrifice. The bush-entangled ram is Sir Robert Reid who has been persuaded to take over the candidate interviewing job. My results were better than I had feared. The office had produced the figure of 235 or so as the number of cases pending when I handed over but this was a mistake and the real figure was not much over 100. I dealt with 360 candidates in the five weeks and this was about four times as many as was reasonable if any figure was reasonable when I had already as much as I could manage on hand.

It has been a dull week. Not only have I been fit for nothing in the evenings but to lie about but I have not had the energy even to follow a tripe story with intelligence enough to understand it when so lying. I have neglected the poor Mr Baldwin at the Hospital; miserable for him to feel neglected like this and probable it is that as the weeks pass he feels it more and more.

Winsome was in this morning looking very smart and gay. Charlotte is head of her girls’ school at Simla and prepared for an examination by buying a special pencil at the cost of over a rupee. This seems to Winsome to show that Charlotte is a real Townend. Apparently it is the sort of thing that Richard would have done. Strange side lights.

You know that there is a Rani who pursues Idris with gifts and maybe bad intentions? she wrote the other day saying, They have given Mr Mukherjee a knighthood but what has he done that is good? The Biblical simplicity of this has taken our fancy and I keep repeating it to myself.

These kitten-cats have become a problem. Toms of the hideous kind haunt the compound and it is becoming a problem whether they should not all be classified as carnivores (though they eat rice) thus coming under the police ban which demands the destruction of all such for fear that they do damage during air raids. Did I tell you that there is a police order that all dogs and cats must have muzzles during raids? not that it is possible to buy a muzzle in Calcutta.

On Friday night I actually got out the typewriter and copied out some of my test sentences, thus showing that I was less tired than for weeks passed. But otherwise this week also is among those of abstinence from things good. I remain astonished that none of the family set to and invented sentences for themselves; and also that none of them was interested in the invention of practical illustrations of things representing proverbs and sayings.

My letter to Richard has not got itself written, probably because I cannot find the Sanskrit book that I bound in 1915. It was going to give me inspiration. I am not getting moneysworth out of this typewriter but Joan thinks that it was sufficient reason for buying it that I no longer come creeping round and borrowing hers. If only it was not necessary to hammer like mad, there might be fewer mistakes. The ribbon is not whatit was and new Portable ribbons are unobtainable.

I shall not correct this. Laziness the cause but the pretext is that you should see precisely what progress has been made during these months of talk about practicing.

Much love
Dad


Family letter from LJT No 27

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
July 19th 1942.

My Dears,

At last we have got letters from Canada, after an interval of about three months. They are Romey’s Nos 57 and 58, 13 and 19th April. Since she always numbers her letters, I can see that the mails for two weeks are missing. I wonder whether they will ever turn up. I feel so happy to have had news again, and hope that now the letters will come steadily, if slowly, by sea. We also had a letter from Richard, which has taken three months by sea. It was dated 12.4.42. Two later letters than this reached us ten days or more ago. Yesterday evening we got Grace’s No 14 of 24/5 and Annette’s No 12 of 20/5. Thank you all for these letters, and know that they bring us tremendous pleasure.

News of ourselves is much as usual. Herbert is a little less tired and depressed, and has sensibly resisted a strong invitation to be chairman of a Committee of business men, which it is proposed to form to advise the Food Controller for Bengal. Herbert probably knows more about control of rice than anyone else in the Province, for he was Food Controller in the last war, but he is in no fit state to bear extra burdens just now.

Perhaps I did not mention last week that a certain Mr Kelly, I.C.S. from Burma, was coming to stay for a while. He is probably taking on a job in our office, till such time as we get back into Burma, but has to wait for the permission of his Government and the G of I. It is silly for him to arrange permanent accomodation for himself, till he gets his answer, and he is welcome to be here. The R.A.F. have taken over various houses and schools, as well as dispersing here and there, so the urgency for putting men into private houses has largely disappeared, and we have not been sent any other lodgers. Mr Kelly is no trouble, and is a nice fellow. He has been coming to my office the last few mornings, since Idris went away, to get information about his future job. Idris went off to Delhi on Thursday. He is working there for four or five days, and then he has a couple of days work in Simla, with the Labour Department. After that he takes his ten days’ leave, so he will not be back here till August 4th. Luckily the great rush of candidates has finished, and he appears not to have left us anything especially tricky to deal with. He was in a great fuss before he went, because he really does not want to take leave. He thought of all the things he has left undone for months past, such as going to the dentist and the occulist, fixing up for an overhaul of his car, and lots of minor items such as haircut, paying bills, buying a new valise etc. In fact the nickname of a certain character in one of Tchekov’s plays, (which I happened to be reading) suited him excellently. It was “Two and Twenty Troubles”. Perhaps Annette will be able to find out whether that is a nicely running series of words in Russian.

We had a couple of people to lunch on Sunday, it being about the only time I can invite anyone but our most intimate friends to meals, as we are generally too tired in the evening, and just like to listen to the news at 9.30, and then go to bed. Soon after our guests had gone. A few minutes after the party had broken up on Sunday, and I had just sat down at my writing table to finish off the letters, a lad turned up who used to come a lot to our house in Chinsurah, and who went off to do his army training last Autumn. He is now in the Artillery, and stationed a little way out of Calcutta. He had come in by train, and had not had any lunch, so we raked up some remnants, and gave him quite a good meal. Then he and I sat and talked all afternoon, till tea came. After tea we were booked for a visit to Harry and Winsome, in which Mr Kelly was included, and Mr Arculus went on to visit other friends. He is the young man who has such a beautiful collection of gramaphone records, including the complete opera, “The Magic Flute”. He had some amusing things to tell about his training. His account of the Indians who were training in his little group, was not encouraging. Two were ivory to the tops of their skulls, he said. One, a Bengali, made a detirmined effort to bribe the examiner. The third Indian, a Punjabi, was as clever as paint, but just as crooked as he was intelligent. The two dullards have been sent to do another course, and then will probably have to be told that they are not fitted to be officers. The other has gone to some military unit, and his dishonesty will probably not prevent him from being a brave soldier.

Hoping to hear some good music, Walter Jenkins and I went to see the film “The Common Touch”, which was advertised with Mark Hambourg and the London Philharmonic Orchestra. It was a swindle, of course, for about five minutes of music by them, was forced into the film in the most obviously unnatural way, just to get their names on the posters and be a draw. As in so many films, a good idea was spoilt by lazy construction. We have heard some music this week though, for there was a little Chamber music concert on Friday to which I went with Rex Fawcus and Walter Jenkins, and we had dinner with Rex at the Saturday Club afterwards. It was a delightful evening. The concert was good, and I like a quiet little dinner with one or two friends. Rex is a keen naturalist, and was excitedly telling me about the habits of Bush Turkeys, a pair of which are producing young in the Zoo. They are the Australian birds who build a great heap of decaying vegetable matter, and lay the eggs inside it, where the heat of the decomposition hatches out the eggs. These birds were very common on Tambourine Mountain where we stayed for so long, so I had a mild score off Rex, in being able to tell him that I am quite familiar with the birds in the wild.

A welcome change has been made in our office hours, and we are now to start work at 9 a.m. instead of 8.30. The babu clerks found it very difficult to get to office by 8.30 a.m. as they have their big meal of the day in the early morning. The extra half hour will be of great use to me in looking after my household.

Best love to all
LJT

(typed at bottom of letter)

My darling Annette,

Its good to get letters, just before it is time for me to write. This last of yours, was written not long before you were expecting to get away for your holiday in Wales. I do hope you had good weather and that it was a success. I think I found the Welsh mountains more attractive than the Cumberland ones. We had much better weather in Wales than I have ever had in Cumberland, which perhaps partly explains it.

Reading of you enthusiasm for gardening makes me dream of the time when we can settle in England. I’d like to have a herb garden. I like herbs used in cooking and approve of the campaign in America (it may be in England as well) for the revival of an interest in herbs and in the use of them in cooking. Herbs at once make me think of Louise Ranken, who was much interested in them. I still miss her, but scarcely realize that she has left India for good. I really think I was fonder of her than of any other woman out here. I always found her both interesting and interested. If one were a bit thrilled or interested about something oneself, Louise was always sure to be interested too. Somehow this brings me on to a comment of yours about Gavin’s party in Oxford, and your realization that you were the normal person and the others the affected ones. It shows a truly adult attitude, and moreover I am sure it is true. Maybe a few, especially of the really great actors and actresses, retain a hold on reality, and some sort of prospective of the relative importance of things, but from what little personal experience I have had, the bulk of the lesser lights attached to the stage or buzzing round it, are singularly hollow and I am tempted to say, futile. Bernard Tennant was at one time, much attracted by a young actress, and through her got to know quite a lot of stage people, including the Badderleys. He gave parties at his house in Chelsea at some of which I was present. They were in the nature of The dansants I found the people there totally unreal. They seemed to live in a world entirely their own, concerned only with the success or failure of plays, and of players in those plays. Outside that they just were not interested or amused. Bernard himself commented on this at a later date when his fancy for the girl died down (She subsequently married Hugh Williams who is often semi starred in films) He added that he had never encountered a society where there was so much petty jealousy and gossip. I am glad I was never in the least attracted by a stage life. I must say I did not find the Russian ballet troup who were out here in the least like that. They were thrilled about everything and as natural as daylight. It is a great pity that Gavin has developed those tastes. He has too good a brain to waste it on the stage. Best love Mother

(typed at bottom of letter sent to Romey)

My darling Romey,

Thank you for the two letters, ns 57 and 58, which have reached me after such a long delay. It is a sad thing that two seem to be missing. However from the tone of those that have come, it does not appear that anything extremely startling happened, or been retailed in the letters that are lost.
I hope you are having a nice vacation. The exam period must have been pretty strenuous. It will be exciting to hear the results. Plans for the future are difficult to cope with. My belief is that it is wise to review possibilities, but not get worried about actual plans too far ahead. So often almost at the last moment, one can see clearly what is the right action to take.
Various eminent people have been saying that the next two months, or six weeks, or month, will pretty well show whether the war in Europe and Africa will end this year, and I should think they will. How one longs to hear that we have been able to make some big diversion to relieve pressure on the Russian front!
The monsoon weather has given us a certain sense of security, perhaps rather a false one. Monsoon conditions would certainly make any big movement of troops or planes difficult even for the Japs, who appear able to move themselves over almost any sort of country.
Isn’t it a good thing that Aunt has managed to get Ocean’s Widow (She was always called that, so I suppose it does not mean that Ocean is no more?) to come and help in the house. It would have been too much for her to tackle all the work of Highways, besides her outside jobs.
Annette seems to have become very garden-minded since she took up her allotment. It will be interesting if she becomes a keen gardener. If we can retire, I want to have a nice little herb garden. I think the people who want to revive an interest in the use of herbs in cooking are quite right. America has produced one or two interesting books on the subject of herbs, which were lent to me by Louise Rankin. I miss her very much, by the way. I think I was fonder of her than any other woman in Calcutta. I always found her so interesting and interested! I wonder whether we shall ever be able to meet again? By the way, if fate should ever take you to New York, do try to get in touch with Louise. Everett is working in the New York Office of the Standard Oil Co. now. Address 26 Broadway, New York. I know she would welcome you first for my sake, and later I am sure for your own, if you are ever in that city!
Best love, darling. I hope my letters will reach you regularly and that yours will also get to us from now on.

Mother


Family letter from HPV

Calcutta,
July 19th 1942

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

You see in me the just man made perfect: for yesterday having pulled myself together I wrote the long-promised letter to that Richard.

This is an indication of increased strength long overdue. So I announce it with pride. There remains the equally long-intended letter to the odd (but this was meant to be “old”) gentleman in New Zealand. The sight of Scorpio each night in the south is a perpetual reproach to me; because the old gentleman was the author of the Star-Map booklets from which I have gained so much profit. This reminds me of the sad thing that Rosemary’s gift star-book calls Scorpio by the name of Scorpius: and after all why not?

Among the banes of Calcutta may now be numbered the small ants. With the rains these absurd creatures move from the garden into the house, where they have to bustle for a living. At all times they are busy running about on tables and suchlike; but the grief is that if I lie down on my bed on an afternoon as I often do, they send out spies and then come up and nip me. I now wonder whether there about me a strong and sudden odour (coupled or not with a melodious twang) which brings them from afar.

It will surprise you also to hear that it is my custom to use a shoehorn but only sometimes and only for the left shoe; the bearer always puts it in the left shoe when he lays out the pair that he expects me to wear. I found the other day that after using the thing I left it in my shoe stuck up behind my heel: and so it was till I was undressing in the evening.

The book on soils lent me by the old Rai Bahadur by way of proving that Humus or Compost is lacking in phosphates says that pig manure is superior to cow in this respect and so I expect that much may come of Annette’s plannings. Let her beware of making up her heaps in too thin layers or rather having too low a heap; the thing must be large enough to retain the heat from the fermentation for as long as possible so that the microbes may be comforted.

All those mistakes are due to the sudden thought that no one would be interested in the humus heap. Have I said before that the Bengali version of my pamphlet has been published.

Two nights ago I returned to Maths for the Million. The chapter about statistics. It is no use: my mind shuts up at the very thought of a formula and worse at the sight of one.

The American in hospital says that fourteen men have read the little One Thing at a Time psychology book and had comfort from it. Probably they have never struck anything of the sort before and think that it is miraculous. That sudden outcrying is the desperate call of workmen who are trying to get huge beam on to the roof by pulling at a rope attached to the very top end. It would be easy enough if they but fastened other ropes lower down but they have instead caused some of their number to hang on outside the circular iron staircase and put their shoulders under the end of the beam; in this way with a little luck they may cause the unfortunates to fall to their death.

The north countryman in the hospital, Mr Grove, who has had the operation on his nose and is being sent off because there is no sign of his reviving his strength in Calcutta, told Joan yesterday that he is out of look. He has been twenty years without falling in loov and now that he has met the girl he has to go off at once to South Africa and she is going to Joobulpore. Why it should make such odds that she should be in Jubbolpur instead of here is not apparent: but the tragedy is the same. He fixed up to meet her at 2 p.m when he got back from drawing his pay, for he had special leave to go from the hospital to his unit for this purpose; and then he was kept till three and of course the girl had not waited. However she rang him up when he was back in hospital and he persuaded the sister to let him go out again at five so that he did stand the girl the movie after all. But there was another tragedy here. He hadn’t taken a girl to the movies for four years and so when the interval came he forgot all about her and just went out to get a drink for himself; when he came back and she asked where he had been he realized what he had done and as always at moments of special embarrassment felt so soft.

A sad little story. It will not travel across the sea without loss of interest. But Alice may feel the pathos of it. He is a little man and by no means handsome.

Much love
Dad


Family letter from LJT No 28

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
July 26th 1942

My Dears,

Its so late this week before I have started my letters! For the first time since October, (I think) Herbert and I are alone in the house for a few days. Idris is away in Simla. Coralie Taylor has gone to Darjeeling for a few days, and Mr Kelly moved out to the Bengal Club. No other R.A.F. men have turned up wanting lodging. The empty rooms have given me a good opportunity to look over things, inspect pillows, mattresses and blankets, and have a general nose around, so I have not settled down to my writing till 10:15 a.m.

It was most exciting to get airmail letters from Helen from Winnipeg, dated June 22nd, and telling us of Rosemary’s scholarship, and the fact that she was over in Victoria, Helen not realizing that our last news from Canada was sent off in the middle of April. It will now be so exciting to hear exactly what the scholarship is, and what Romey is doing over on the Coast. It is amusing how many countries chose a certain bit of sea-board to call “The Coast”. In New Zealand, which is small enough for any place in it to be near the sea, “The Coast” means the West Coast of the South Island.

There has been a grief for us this week. Our American sailor friend, who has been ill in the hospital for so long, died early on Monday morning. The funny little North-countryman, who has been so good to him, rang me up at 8 a.m. to tell me. I was grateful to him, for it made it possible for us to send flowers, and to go to the funeral, which was well arranged by the American Consulate, and took place at 9a.m. on Tuesday morning. Poor chap! It is sad that he lost his fight after such a long plucky struggle, but it is probably for the best, since it seemed unlikely that he would ever be fit for work again. I got his mother’s address and wrote her a long letter. To my surprise, Herbert also wrote a very long letter, which I think was awfully good of him.

One day in office, my work seemed to be slacking off considerably, and I had time to write two letters of my own in the afternoon. Encouraged by this, I took my account book to office the following day, for it is sadly in need of attention. You can guess the result! I did not have a minute to look at it. We are still getting a few candidates from Burma; people who have been ill, or have been away for holidays, or have been doing jobs for their own firms in this country. A certain number of ordinary Indian and Anglo-Indian candidates are turning up again now. Evidently people are finding that they cannot go on running away from Calcutta and jobs of work indefinitely.

There was a combined variety show, very amature, and the first release of “49th Parallel” on Wednesday night, to which Walter Jenkins and I took a joint party. We had dinner here first, and left Herbert t o peacefully to bed. The only good thing in the first part of the programme was the man who strolled on between turns and talked. He gave some amusing examples of the different accents coming into the rendering of Hindustani words, and being on the subject of accents, he told us about the small boy who, with his mother, had been for a very long time in a very cramped Air-raid shelter in Manchester. As they came out, the urchin said to his mother, “By guum, Muum, m’bum’s nuumb”.

It is not very often I go to the cinema twice in one week, but I heard from so many people that “One of Our Aircraft is Missing” was extremely good, that I was persuaded to go, and did enjoy it very much. By the way, I see I made no comments on “49th Parallel”. It is a first class film, is’nt it? I suppose most of you have seen it. For some strange reason it has been very slow coming out here. I was specially interested in the pictures of the great corn lands round Winnipeg, about which Romey had told me. Its a treat to see a film which is uniformly so well acted and in which the thought and action are so well-balanced.

The little amature races at Tollygunge are still taking place, and I took Mr Kelly, Ramsey Chase and Francesca Gurner out there yesterday. We picked up a man who has recently come to Calcutta to work in the China Relations Office (Political Dept. I.C.S.) and a friend whom he had brought in to call on us a few days ago. The friend has just arrived from two years in Chunking, but seems cheerful in spite of it, and who is an attractive and interesting person to talk to. We sat together and I gave them tea. It was all rather fun, apart from the races, for I met lots of old friends, it was fine and fairly cool too, after a wet morning. We had not enough petrol to take our own car, but hired a taxi. Herbert was too tired to come, and retired to have a good sleep, tea at home, and a visit to the Saturday Club to change his books. He is a lot better than he was a few weeks ago.

A lot of people have been dropping in in the evenings lately. My dear friend Reggie Cooke, who is now stationed out at Barrackpore, brought a friend of his, who has just come to Calcutta, to call on us. Harry and Winsome had been in the same evening for a late tea. We welcome their visits doubly, because they are able to come so seldom now. Charlotte has been covering herself with glory at her little school in Simla. I think Winsome said she has come out top of the school, and has got a prize for good manners. She has a very different temperament from John. She is so much more independent. A friend of mine told me she was caused acute embarrassment recently when her small daughter, who has been having riding lessons from a sergeant, had to say goodbye to him. He has been given a commission, and is going off to an Officers Training School. “Good bye, Miss Jane”, said he. “Good-bye, Sergeant Smith” said she, “You really must remember not to drop your haitches now you are going to be an officer.”

And so another week has gone! You might think from all this talk of cinemas and races and such, that we are not careing about the war, but it is always in our minds, and I ache to be able to do more to help.

Best love to you all
LJT


(added in type onto end of family letter)
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
July 26th 1942

No 28

Dearly Beloved Son and Daughter,

A joint letter is all I can manage this week, and it does not matter so much since no mails have come in from the U.K. I have to some extent written myself out in the family letter, and in ones to Romey and Aunt. Romey had to take precedence this week on account of her scholarship. Its funny just hearing some comments on it before I had heard that she had won it. I’m so pleased for her sake. I’m delighted, too, that she has got over to “The Coast”. It would have been such a pity to have been some years in Canada, and not to have seen British Columbia.

I met Mrs Edgley yesterday, who asked after both of you. I felt guilty that I have never been to see her since everything went wrong in Burma. I did not know what to say, for I don’t know how she is feeling about Hugh. Now the ice is broken, I must go round to see her one evening soon. I rather think from what she said yesterday that she has given up hope. Poor dear! I feel so sorry for her.

Did I ever tell you that Robin Ross, the lad who was so ill in this house in the Autumn, is now doing civil information work along the Burma-Chittagong border, and I think he is much happier than he was when he was just out in a country district of Bengal, trying to learn to be a magistrate. He was at Oxford during your time.

Sleep is rapidly overcoming me, so I shall give in to it, and have a short Sunday afternoon nap for half an hour before our next guest arrives. He will be rather a contrast to those who have just been to lunch. The lunch party consisted on one, Lydell, of the Political branch of the I.C.S. His friend Franklin, Chinese Consular service (very literary and rather Oxford accent) and an I.C.S. man of our own province, Seth Dreuchar, a highly intelligent Jew, who is doing most of the A.R.P. publicity work for Government, both in literature and over the radio. The guest for tea and the Pictures is our little North-country friend, who has at last fallen in “luuve” at the age of twenty-eight. We are going to see Ginger Rogers in “Roxie Hart” which ought to be quite his style.

Blessings on you both. What a satisfactory son and daughter you are!

Love from
Mother


Family letter from HPV

Calcutta,
July 26th 1942.

My dear Richard (name handwritten)

The news of the week to us is Rosemary’s scholarship. H.D. had an air-mail letter from Helen, only a month old, which he sent to us; it was meant for Joan but enclosed in one for Harry. This is undoubtedly heart-lifting, to use an expression adapted from Kim.

On Sunday last I went to the hospital to see my young American Mr. Baldwin; he had been ever so much stronger on the previous Tuesday but Joan had found him in a bad state on the Saturday apparently owing to the death of a lad in a neighbouring bed. I found him too weak to talk and merely sat by him for a while till the doctor came; he died early next morning, to our great grief. We went to the pathetic little funeral the next day. Coming away I noticed on a tombstone the name Great Leighs. Someone named Taylor (but was it Taylor?) had died in 1926 from that place in Calcutta. Strange.

I bought a postcard of the hospital to send to Mrs Baldwin to whom we both wrote; one anna. And simultaneously I bought for Three Rupees and Five Annas a star-map for myself; which is typical of my methods. It is a large map; wall-hanging size. White on black. This has revived my design of making a map without any names or lines on it to use with the real map; and I made a specimen of one corner in white ink on black paper. Superior but how unimpressive compared to the map with perforations with various sized needles which proved so ephemeral because I can design no method of making the holes so that with time they do not close up again.

The Taylor family, Coralie and husband, received a humble apology from one Sandy Cameron for having forgotten that she had asked them to dinner on Friday; and they then remembered that they also had forgotten to go. Coralie is away in Darjeeling and the dog is disconsolate. She remains all day lying in Coralie’s room except when she goes out to pick up a fresh supply of ticks.

My name is mud. Rex Fawcus came up in great excitement saying that Marnie Atkins that was had had a baby; and vaguely I replied that there was no need to treat it as an Event because she had had two before. Of course she had not; but he went round Calcutta saying that this was the third, until he met Joan who denied it. Hotly he replied that he had heard it from an authority though he forgot whom. So I told Joan who the authority was and the mud-eating started at that point. All this comes from trying to be a ray of sunshine. Ramsey who was there was quite discouraged. Hearing of the doings of our cook, now gone, Rex said that his motto should be “splendide mendax” and Ramsey wrote it down for Joan on an envelope; she has since derived great satisfaction from finding that he had written it just on top of my name.

The little abscess is still there; very little now but annoying. Why does not the bit of bone come out instead of staying till it decays away as, I suppose, it is doing? There is less work but I have not lost that tired feeling. Would that people would not ask if I am now better! and would that I could make an exclamation mark on this typewriter! how annoying that the apostrophe is out of place! It is annoying also that now I have given up interviewing candidates for commissions the number should have fallen off.

On Tuesday we had an Air Force lad to tea. And there came in H.D. and Winsome, two Colonels, and two Civilians who belong to the China relations office. A tiring thing because they came at intervals and the last left at 7.15. At 7.30 we had people coming in to dinner, . . . . early because there was a show to go to . . . . and there was a rush. It tires me sitting up to attention for long. I spend a lot of time sprawling.

I shall in fact go and sprawl now. It is not long after breakfast; only long enough for me to write this, 35 minutes. But I woke up tired.

Much love
Dad