The Townend Letters

1943 June

Family letter rom Mrs. HPV Townend No 22 (not in AMT’s set of letters – this typed by Joan Webb)

“Jatinga”, White River, E. Transvaal
June 5th, 1943

My Dears,

We have removed ourselves from one lovely spot to another, and after leaving ‘Elandgeni’ with much regret, we re most comfortably settled here.

My last six days at ‘Elandgeni’, after my cold had gone, were delightful. The Pierneefs took us into their home and hearts and fetched us for morning tea, and either afternoon tea or drinks every day, I think. Not only is Mr. Pierneef a very able artist, but he has a great fund of information and ideas on many subjects, and an enthusiasm which makes him an inspiring companion. That he should have given up so much of his time and energy to us, is a privilege for which I feel truly grateful. So, I think, does Herbert. He is one of the best known artists in Africa, and has done a great deal of work for the Government. He spent three years in England painting the pictures for Africa House. He trained in Holland, and his wife is a Dutch woman, and the dearest, and warmest-hearted of women.
One of the days on which we were called up to morning tea, was Monday last, which was a holiday, Union Day. Mrs. Pierneef’s sister and her husband, Dr. Du Preez, who is one of Pretoria’s specialists, drove out and Mrs. Pierneef wanted us to meet them. Mrs. Du Preez has a beautiful voice, and most kindly invited me to tea on Wed, so that she could sing for me. Mrs. Pierneef took me, and we left our husbands behind. Mr. P says he is never invited when there is serious music, for he won’t keep still and quiet. It was ages since I had heard anyone singing really well, and I enjoyed it so much. Mrs. Du Preez has a lovely voice and excellently trained. A very nice Afrikaner lady played her accompaniments and she also promises to give a musical party for me when we go back to Pretoria, as we have promised to do on our return journey.

On our way home we called to see a certain Mr. Eloff, a great friend of the Pierneefs, who is a sculptor ( and also grandson of President Kruger) A young protégé of his, who was there, showed me a lot of photos of Mr Eloff’s work, but the actual things are mostly in Paris. I asked Mrs. Pierneef later whether Mr. Eloff had ceased working. She replied that he had done but little work lately. “He is veery lazy; veery wealthy and veery nice” she said. “We love him.”

I began to feel quite worried that Mr. Pierneef gave so much time to talking to us and showing us things, but his wife says that he is like that. He may not touch a brush for days, and then suddenly he starts and works like mad. He started work on a picture on Wednesday, and when we went up to say goodbye to them on Thursday evening, he told me that he had been trying to get a picture of the White River District into shape, for us to see before we left, and there it was on the easel, fresh and bright with the clear African sunlight!

Thursday, the day of our departure, was another holiday in respect of Ascension Day. South Africa is almost as fond of holidays for special days of commemoration as India. Edward had to go to the Legation in the morning, but came back for lunch, bringing with him a young Dutchman whom we knew in Calcutta. Mr. Eckhardt was in Manila when it was taken by the Japs, and remained their for five and a half months, before he was exchanged. He says he, with his senior officer and his wife, were quite well treated. Being diplomatic people, they were confined in their own house. The greatest trial, he says, was having nothing to do. He is now in the Dutch Legation at Pretoria, and was so pleased to get news of his old friends in Calcutta.

That same afternoon a man whom I know well on paper, but had never met, Sir Roger Wilson, came out to tea. He was President of the Himalayan Club for two years. I think he was Adjutant-General in India until he came to the retiring age a couple of years ago, when he and his wife came to Africa. He is now doing a lot of work for the International Red Cross. He is just as nice as everyone had painted him, and I was so delighted to meet him. Needless to say, with Edward’s love of the Himalayas, added to our own, we were happy talking mountains to the exclusion of most other topics.

During our stay at Pretoria, we met some interesting people, apart from the U.S. minister and his wife, and some other members of the Legation Staff. The Oxford Observatory was moved to Pretoria some years ago, and Edward wanted us to meet the Astronomer and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Knoxshaw. On Sunday afternoon while we were entertaining a young man connected with the Experimental Agricultural Institute and Farm, The Pierneefs rang to say another interesting couple would like to meet us, Professor and Mrs.Wallace, lately professor of History at Pretoria University. I do so enjoy meeting people like that.

We traveled from Pretoria to Nelspruit, the junction for Whit River, in the tiniest coupe I have ever seen. When the upper berth was down, there was no room to move. During the night the train appeared to stop just about as much as it moved, and we had the worst driver I have ever encountered. He started and stopped with such frightful jerks that one felt as if the couplings must go. Sleep, consequently, was broken and not very restful. I got up at 6 am when it was just beginning to get light, because I wanted to see the country we were passing through,. It was certainly grand scenery. We were making our way along a deep valley, with a river, the Eland, flowing to join the Crocodile River, into which our White River also flows. The mountains on either hand were steep and rocky, and now and again through a break in them, more and more distant mountains were visible. The tall rough grass was all white with frost, and we were glad of steam heat and windows to keep out the cold. We reached Nelspruit at 8 am and Mrs. Pike was at the station with her car to meet us. It is about fifteen miles to White River, but there is only one train a day up the little branch line, and I don’t think it arrives here till about mid-day.

Mrs. Pike is a tall, good-looking Cornish woman, but she has been out here since she married about fifteen years ago. Her husband is a prisoner of war in Italy. They have a small citrus estate, and a good deal of land to be developed, but she has concentrated on running the place as a Guest House, and is doing it most successfully. We arrived in the middle of the coldest weather that has been known here in the memories of the oldest inhabitants, but it is about as warm as a grand late spring or early autumn day in England.

I will leave a description of the place until next week. Best love,
LJT

Family letter from HPV (not in AMT’s set of letters – this typed by Joan Webb)

Written at White River,
June 6th, 1943

My dears,

No letter from me last week because mainly the supply of typing-paper ran out; also there seemed to be no time for anything. How the time went I cannot say. I told Joan that it was probably a fairy house and that when we left we should find that weeks had passed instead of days. Certainly hours passed instead of minutes. The chief time-occupiers were the Pierneefs, though certainly not time-wasters. If they spied any of us at any hour of the day, or if either of us went up for any purpose such as to return the newspaper that they lent us daily, the cry went up “You must have some tea!” or “Sherry” or coffee might be going. Then the talk started and it rarely stopped until we reached the gate of our abode after saying, with many interruptions, ‘goodbye’. For one or other of them would come along with us as far as the gate of our place at least. A time-waster of the worst was the kitten whom the Italians called Signorina; she would come hurrying up at any time to be tickled or stroked, and rolled ecstatically in front of the person selected for this service, usually me. Never have I now a cat more given to this self-indulgence. Hours passed in the aggregate on this task alone.

The thing which took up much of my time was reading through all the copies of the New Yorker, Time, Life, Reader’s Digest, Geographical Journal and other weeklies, that lay in Edward Groth’s study. Also I spent a whole morning writing a letter in Nagari for the benefit of the Darjeeling porters at the instigation of Edward, who insisted that we must all three sent a letter to them jointly. I pointed out first that the censor would never pass it and secondly that the porters would not be able to read it if it reached them, if only because I have not written Nagari since 1913; but in vain. It took me longer to produce three pages containing some twelve lines in all than it does Pierneef to paint a 4 foot square canvas; but the result was very handsome. Similar joint letters of greeting went out from us to all the many folk whom we know jointly, though in English these; and I must say in support of the practice that when last year we received in Calcutta such a letter signed by Edward, Mary Ow and her mother, we felt great pleasure.

Again there was the distraction of communicating with the Italians. They know no English except “All right!” and (the cook only) “Good morning”, both phrases mispronounced; on our side the vocabulary was a little larger, since we learnt the words for knife and fork, fire and water and so on. Communication was therefore somewhat laborious, since I had to look up the words required in the French-Italian grammar which Mrs. Pierneef had lent us, and it was by no means designed for this purpose. It was triumph when we ascertained that William wanted to ask us to get news of his uncle who had been a hairdresser at 10 Conduit Street and had not been heard of since 1941 --- had he been drowned while being sent with the internees to Canada? We fixed up that enquiries should be made through the Red Cross.

I have read and then typed a digest of an American book on restoring the eyesight through relaxing and exercises; very plausible. I have not got round to doing anything on the strength of it, but I have made preparations, by buying an eye-shade so that I can make the right eye to some work independently. My first step towards doing eye-exercises must be to draw up a schedule. For what with the chiropractor’s exercises and the eye-exercises, there will be little room in the day for anything else unless I draw up careful plans. Of course, I have fallen from virtue in the matter of the former act. I have not set myself to laugh for five minutes a day twice; though while we were seeing so much of the Pierneefs there was no need, for we laughed the whole time and the aggregate was far more than ten minutes daily.

I have just had to take the sheets out of they typewriter, owing to my seeing that the carbons were getting round the roller, but none of the sheets seem to have suffered. And I am thus led to perceive that the paper is again going crooked towards the end of the page. An infuriating trick, and it grieves me that the very considerable sums spent on having it remedied by the Remington people in Cape Town have been wasted. But apart from this, I see that I am typing abominably and it is just as well that I have reached the end of the page.

Joan has encouraged me to continue, though I must say that I feel diffident about inflicting screeds of this small talk on the family. But it would be a pity not to tell of the native seen by me having a bath in an iron wheel-barrow; quite inadequate for anyone and he was a particularly big man. Also there is Jakub; the ugliest human being that could be imagined but the best worker among the natives employed by Pierneef, a Trojan man when it came to shifting rocks and much believed in as a lighter of fires. Mrs. Pierneef did not like the idea that the Italians, white men, should be doing such signally native tasks as lighting fires and so in spite of protests by Edward, she insisted on sending Yakub down to deal with such things. Partly because she has a fixed idea that Edward would not be careful enough to see that fires were there, (which is absurd when one considers that he has American ideas on the subject of house warming and has caused all the ventilators to be bunged up). Just as she had the idea that because he does not drink tea or coffee himself he was not arranging for us to have them when necessary.

Let me tell also of Ati. The older of the two Pierneef dogs and the eye-apple of the family. Ati is short for the reverse of the girl’s name which is something like Marita; he is spoilt in everything by Old Man P. and may be found sitting by him on sofas and chairs --- until Mrs. P comes in and then he is off the seat in a flash in the most professional way. Two nights before we left Pretoria it was bitterly cold; bitterly. We went out to bed (out means across the courtyard) at about 11 o’clock after guests had left and there, miserable, was Ati. Locked out of his own house for the good reason that he had been down in the courtyard eating remains of turkey, which had illegitimately been thrown out to him by Santi, the cook. Ati came up to us and explained that he was too cold for words, and that undoubtedly would die of pneumonia if exposed to the night air longer; in fact it was essential for him to come into our bedroom and preferably onto the bed. He fair put this yarn across and we rigged up a bed of mats from the garden on top of two chairs; whence later he would certainly have moved onto Joan’s side of the bed. All was set for the night--when by chance William came along to ask if we had water. And then, and then, and then. Ati was down and out of the room like a flash, knowing of course that he had no business to be there. He spent the night among cushions on a hammock-bed in an alcove in the courtyard; and in the morning put up another act equally piteous. The Pierneef’s were delighted with this exhibition of craft; and we with the Pierneef’s delight.

There were two other cats, but dull; and a huge strange-breed pup, yellow and young-lion size which belonged to some neighbours and tried to spend his time in Edward’s courtyard among the good things to be had from the Italians. Huge though he was, he was terrified by a small fluff dog brought to the house by the Dutch Consul, ( our friend from Chinsura who had been released as prisoner of the Japs). Pitiable to see this large pup trying to hide from the dog behind an inadequate bush. Joan says that it was anything but fluff; in fact silk, a golden cocker.

The Bushman paintings are marvelous. Better than I have seen I museums or books. Pierneef was hot against the government for not taking adequate steps to preserve them. Many are being destroyed by amateurs trying to remove them bodily, others by malice (stone-throwing picnickers, so to say) and yet others by carelessness, as when one of the best, of lions prowling, was almost destroyed by sheep which were enclosed in the cave where they had been an ornament. He rebuked the farmer for this; and the farmer, a Boer, merely said that Pierneef was a “nigger-lover”. Amazing to see how the smoothest of curves is utilized to give the impression of an antelope’s back or belly, and how all detail is suppressed. Strangest of all was a piece representing a Praying Mantis dance; I have never seen anything which gave a greater impression of complicated movement; a couple of dozen little figures obviously men, but giving the impression of insects. Some of the paintings were of human figures so simplified that they were almost patterns, linking hands with feet touching, like the paper men of our childhood; and it was easy to see how from these there would develop patterns. The one that impressed me most perhaps (there were dozens of pictures, tracings, sketches in miniature) was of half a dozen ostriches with a hunter got up as an ostrich himself creeping near with a one-handed bow. All the birds different, all alive and all made with a few simple lines Artists would have turned green with jealousy of such technique; but our pleasure was unalloyed, except that I had left my glasses behind and could not see the details well.

Much love,
Dad

Air Graph No 11 from LJT to Aunt (GCT)

Townend, c/o Standard Bank. Cape Town. June 8th 1943

Dearest Grace. This air-graph is a week behind time, but I hope Anne passed on the one H. wrote to her last week. After my cold had gone, I enjoyed the last six days of our stay with Edward Groth immensely. He was working so hard that we did not see a very great deal of him, except in the evenings. He rarely gets back from office till nearly 8 p.m. but it was good to renew our friendship even under those conditions. We could never feel lonely, for his close neighbours and landlords, Mr & Mrs Pierneef (& sixteen year old daughter) looked after us as if we had been their guests. They are the most delightful folk. Mr P. is one of S.Africa’s best known artists. It was he who painted the picture for Africa House. Besides being an artist, he has many activities & interests, and gave us his time & the benefit of his knowledge & wisdom so generously, that I felt it was wrong to accept so much. His wife, a Dutchwoman, is a darling too. At the end of about two days, we felt them to be old friends, and parted with great regret when we left Pretoria on Thursday night. The sorrow of saying good-bye to them and to Edward, was somewhat mitigated by the fact that Edward wants us to stay with him again on our way south in August. We met other interesting people & have several invitations to be fulfilled on our return. Pretoria is a pretty, leisurely, country town, with wide tree-bordered streets & comfortable, prosperous-looking houses. It is set in a circle of hills, which give it a special charm. Seven miles from the P.O. we were right in the country. It suited H. so well, as also does this place. He seems a good deal stronger & can eat better as he gets used to his new teeth. We travelled here (White River) by night, leaving Pretoria at 9 P.M. & reaching the junction, Nelspruit at 8 a.m. after a most leisurely journey during which the train seemed to spend just as much time stopping as it did going. Mrs Pike met us with her car & drove us the fifteen miles here, as if one depends on the little local train one does not get in till mid-day. “Jatinga” is a delightful place, very well run by Mrs P., whose husband is a prisoner in Italy. The country round is beautiful, all valleys, mountains & rocky rivers. It is a citrus growing district, and the rows & rows of orange trees are all golden with fruit at the moment. It makes me long so to be able to send you some. There are nine guests here besides ourselves, all nice people, except one fantasticly dull little woman. They are all kind & friendly too. The weather is perfect. It is warm enough to sit out of doors during the day, & find it a bit too hot in the sun after about ten o’clock, but the nights are cold. So far we have spent the days about in the garden and go for a walk immediately after tea, which generally last about 1 1/2 hours, and we come back the last bit by the light of the new moon. There is a wireless on which we are able to listen to the news. A parcel was dispatched to you containing a pair of sheepskin gloves. Keep them, if your old ones are worn out. If they are not perhaps you would pass these on to Anne. A toy for Josephine. Scarf for A. & flower for you. Thanks for you No 14 & A’s No 6 rcd on 31 (rest of letter missing)

From HPV to Rosemary
June 13th, 1943 Sunday

My Dear Rosemary,

When I wrote last week I was in the throes of unraveling a skein of artificial silk of the most horrible (though I may not have mentioned it in my letter); all the result of presumption. A certain woman whose name I do not mention out of charity, was picking away at her skein, acclaimed a fortunate purchase, and I said that I should do it, thinking that I should make light work of the thing. Never has there been such a tangle and it took me the best part of three days and of my temper to finish it. Indeed if Joan, at an early stage, had not said that it was impossible and foolish, I should have reneged it.

The stuff was shiny and slippery and would not wind. I had to use straws on which to coil it and they came in useful as bodkins. Eventually I wound it off the two straws used for the unraveling onto a sort of winch made of a few straws and two bits of cardboard. Very neat and Heath Robinsonish. This inspired me to make a winch-thing for the winding of the Navy League wool (home spun) for the Seaman’s jersey which Joan is knitting. A big straw as an axis, two circles of cardboard and four straws stretched across the cardboards and tied in the middle, making a cone. The wool wound onto their middle, admirably; except that it proved necessary to put the skein of wool onto a small table with two bottles to hold it and then to walk round and round so as to avoid snarling the offtake. For some extraordinary reason this annoyed Joan, who said that it was silly and that it would be impossible to unwind the ball of wool that resulted if one pulled the end out of the centre; it was loosely wound. So I rewound it all by hand and the thing unwound from the centre perfectly. The rejection of my contraption grieved me, for I feel sure that it was the type of thing to have rejoiced the heart of my dear Richard, had he seen it. I wonder now why I never made Meccano imitations out of straws and corks, for my experiments with these winding machines showed this to be quite possible.

The name of the woman I did not give because I wished to be free to say that she is universally regarded by one and a, old and young, (hither and yon), as the worst specimen of a fool woman outside a cartoon in the new Yorker, where they are drawn so horrible as to scare me. It made us singularly merry to hear that independently, two women staying here sought her out and told her about particularly nice hotels elsewhere, and she would be ever so comfortable and where the climate would suit her better.

At present the place is full of invalids. By comparison I feel robust and am ashamed that the invalids outlast me when it comes to things like the excursion to the waterfall (which incidentally we did not see, because the last part of the road was up and it was impossible to leave those who couldn’t tackle the rough walk while we visited it.)

Never in a given period have I done so little reading, since I learnt to read. It is the fault of the Eye Exercise Book. I have now a feeling of guilt, of cowardice, rather, whenever I wear my spectacles; and without them I see everything blurred except in the early morning. Not yet have I got round to the task of making out a programme for the day’s exercises, Eye and Chiropractic, and maybe it is beyond the skill of man. Mrs. Ritch, whom Joan has mentioned in her letter as being kind to us, testified to the complete cure of a woman friend of hers who had had an atrocious squint for 35 years by the same exercises. They differ a good deal from those originally advocated by Bates and also from those in the book which I bought in London and passed on to you. Be it noted by the young mothers and those expectant that it is bad to give children books with large type; the chief thing in keeping the eyes right is to have them focus on as small a spot as possible and not to look at a large area like an inch at one time; the big type offends badly as to this. Do you do your eye exercises?

There is an army man here who spent five years in Java and who claims to know Malayan well. I have been renewing interest in the language in consequence and have come to the conclusion that I must know quite a lot of words and phrases, since I recognize most of those which he has produced, although I have in process of time got the pronunciation wrong.

Much love,
Dad

Air graph No 12 from LJT to Annette

Standard Bank of S. Africa. Cape Town. June 15^th 1943

Darling Annette,

Thanks for your No6 of 4/4/43 rcd 31/5 & Air Graph of 16/5 rcd 8/6. Very, very glad to hear about your eye, & so hope it will not trouble you further. Have been thinking much about your tour in the Lakes, & look forward to hearing details. Fire watching duty must be a bit of a strain when you are doing late duty. I am so very sorry to hear about Mrs Watson. I had looked forward to meeting her. Her passing will be a great grief to Aunt. We are so pleased that you accepted the payment for making your suit. We have been able to do so little for you, & I often feel that you must sometimes feel a little regretful that you have had so little of the social fun which would have been your portion in normal times, and which Romey has had in Canada. What you have done & are doing is something much bigger, but its nice to have a bit of the butterfly stuff too. Life in the district is peaceful & pleasant. Already we are in touch with some of the residents, & are getting the feel of the place. White river is a small village, but for many miles round there are nice people living on their fruit farms, & making up a pleasant society. In the houses we have visited so far there have been books & pictures & the sort of talk that is interested in what is going on outside the local circle. The attitude to the native servants & labour is so much nicer than that of the people in the Cape to the Cape Coloured People. The natives, mostly Zulus, are truly much nicer folk, with a dignity & a poise which the unfortunate mixed blood of the Cape entirely lacks. The country is really lovely, with its deep valleys, rocky rivers, rolling grass lands, and rocky ranges. We have seen a good deal of it during the past week for one couple who had to go to a place about 70 miles away, took us with them. On Sunday we were taken a fine round, which must have added up to 40 miles, I should think, by a man who has an arrangement by which his car runs on parraffin after it has been heated up on petrol for a miles or two. His business is buying & selling properties, & he goes about all over the place looking at properties, so he is an interesting showman, for he can point out the good & bad points of farms, & possibilities of properties. He had to go to the town of Barbeton about 50 miles to the south of us yesterday, & took me with him. Dad has a tiresome cold & did not feel quite up to it. It was a beautiful & interesting drive, through regular Rider Haggard country. Barbeton lies at the foot of the great Drakensberg range, which rises like a wall behind the town. It looks across open grass veldt, a sort of enclosed arena which at a guess I should say is about 20 miles one way & about 30 the other. It is surrounded by mts. We had to climb a pass 1,000 ft above the level of the plain, to get into it & out again. It was easy to picture Zulus with their shields & assegis creeping through the tall brown grass & camping under the flat topped thorn trees. From Pretoria I brought some interesting books by Gerald Heard, lent me by Edward Groth. When I have digested them a little more, I will write to you about them. Since the only war work I have been able to find here is knitting for the Navy League, I can do that & read at the same time. Best love to all (Mrs H.P.V. Townend)

Air graph No 12 from LJT to Annette

Standard Bank of S. Africa. Cape Town. June 15th 1943

Darling Annette,

Air Graph No 12 from LJT to Romey

Townend. c/o Standard Bank. Cape Town June 15th ’43

My darling Romey, thank you for letters nos 103,4,&5, & thanks to Helen for hers written on the back of yours. It was nice to hear of your being able to relax and enjoy yourself without an easy conscience after exams were over. When I was the envelope I hoped it might contain details of your Finals, but we still have to wait for that. The letters do not give the impression that you were unduly exhausted after the exams were over. It will be disappointing if you cannot go to Jackson or some other place in the States to go on with your studies. It is most difficult for us to advise you at this distance of time and place. I have the impression that if you went to England you might just be pushed into munition-making or something of thie sort, & that your training would be wasted, so if (always failing the American idea) you can get anything in Canada which will use your special training, I should take it. If you stop now you will lose so much of what you have learnt. If you could specialize in the parasites of tropical diseases, we could ask advice about future jobs from Sir Malcolm Watson, head of the School of Tropical Medicine in London, who is an old friend of ours. Do you remember his sone? That nice friend of Peg’s who came to Highways for Richard’s 21st birthday dance, and stayed on for the week-end? The air-mail letter from Pretoria should have reached you before this. Just in case it has not, I will repeat that Edward kindly arranged to credit Susie with the equivalent of £10 so that she could buy you an evening frock & a graduation present from us. I hope it will be sufficient to get you something nice. We send lots of love with it & appreciation of what you have done. About the fur coat for A. I had not thought of anything costing quite as much as £50, not that Dad & I would not want to spare that for A, but for fear that you would not have enough money. If you can spare the money without skimping yourself, well & good, but do not on any account run yourself short. I feel A. has had a stuffish time & not much fun, & a present of that sort would probably give her real pleasure. I just leave it to you & Susie to see what money can be spared for it. I was most interested to hear of your purchases of clothes for the summer. You have been so economical in that line I am quite relieved to hear that you have got yourself some new things. White River is such a lovely place & this Guest House is Charming, really as much like staying in a private house as is possible. The village is 4 miles away, but Mrs Pike goes in for shopping each morning & will always take one in. All about are farms, citrus fruit, avocado pears & other fruit, most of them belonging to retired people, chiefly English who have settled out here. They are most hospitable & we have been to several houses already. ??guest in this house have taken us about in cars, so that we have seen a good deal of the country. Dad has a slight cold, so did not accept an invitation to drive to Barbarton, 50 miles to the south yesterday, but I enjoyed it so much. We left White Rivers’s fruit farms, climbed a mountain range & dropped into an area surrounded by mts, like a Rider Haggard story.

Best love to you and H & S

Air graph No 13 from LJT to Annette

Townend.c/oStandard Bank. Cape Town. June 20th 1943

My darling Annette. Thanks for A.G. of 30/5, which reached Jo’burg on 13/5 & after going to Cape Town, reached me here on 21/6/43. So glad the skirt etc arrived safely. I repeat Lady Blandy’s address. c/o High Commissioner for India. India House. Aldwych. London. I sent her an A.G. as soon as I got yours. Its good of you to plan to do part time harvesting work and to spend the other half of your holiday at it. It makes me envious, for here I am & can find so little to do for the war. I have managed to get into the Anti-Waste section of the S.A.W.A.S. now, and worked at sorting paper and rags last Wed. Afternoon and Thurs. Morning. Hope to do this each week as long as we are here. During the past week I have been longing more than ever to get home. I rather fancy part of Dad’s depression recently has been due to a feeling of futility, and an ache to be doing something. If this is so, maybe it is a sign that he is getting stronger. I begin to think it would be a good thing to try to get back to England next spring whether the war is over or not. I must discuss it with him. The papers here are dividing their interest between the war, the coming elections, and the huge Military Parade which took place in Jo’burg last Saturday. I listened in to Smut’s speech. It was all good stuff, if only people will listen, but the out & out nationalists wont even do that. The colour question, religion; in fact every facet of life is dragged into politics, but even Dr Malan has his good points. Reading about malaria control in S. Africa, Dad found that he is the only big political figure who has ever taken the subject seriously. I hope you manage to get out to Ivinghoe Beacon some day. It’s a lovely spot, & was a favourite outing of Uncle Bernard’s & of the Pilkingtons from London. One of the ancient British roads runs below it, & it is a place which always makes me conscious of the early British past. Its been a quiet week here. My chill was quickly over, but Dad’s cold has still not quite cleared up, so that he has not been feeling like walking far. We have been short strolls, to the infinite pleasure of the Spaniel, “Smut”. We were out to drinks at a neighbouring house one evening, & had a little sherry party here on Friday, which went off nicely. It was a good opportunity to entertain a few people while the house was empty. Mrs Pike had to go to the town of Nelspruit, fifteen miles away, one morning; & took us along. It’s a beautiful drive, which was what chiefly attracted me. Dad needed a hair-cut & I did a few little odds of shopping. We stopped on the way home to cut branches of guava leaves which had turned a beautiful dull bronze. They looked lovely in the big jars of poinsettias in the lounge, and were much admired by our guests that evening. Yesterday I was persuaded to go out riding, & enjoyed it much. Wonderful to relate I am not stiff to-day. We went gently, & did not gallop at all. I am rather hoping to persuade Dad to get on a horse again. The two belonging to this pleace are very quiet, & small; about 13 hands. One can go out on them with the idea of using them as a means of transport, to get to some of the hill-tops which are to far for a walk. Best love. (Mrs H.P.V. Townend)

Family letter from LJT No 24

“Jatinga.”
White River.

June 21st 1943

My Dears,

My letter is late this week because I was foolish enough to let myself get an internal chill on Friday, and so stayed in bed all Saturday. I was up again yesterday, but had Mrs. Iron to spend the morning here, and felt a bit slack in the afternoon, after the effects of the chill, so just lazed on my bed. After tea I went for a little stroll with Herbert, whose cold is still worrying him, so that he is not feeling too grand.

It seemed unwise to sit up in out rondavel after dusk, when it gets very cold, and I could not type in the lounge, so here I am writing on Monday.

Before I do anything else I must tell you something about this house. It follows a plan common to S. A., especially in the Transvaal, of a central building and a number of “rondavels” scattered about the grounds. These rondavels (accent on the ‘da’) are round rooms or more often hexagonal, with conical thatched roofs. They are often built in pairs, joined by a small room, used as bathroom & lav’, with a little bit of verandah in front of it. Since eight or nine months of the year in so much of S.A. are hot, they are built for coolth and tend to be a bit chilly in winter, with cement or stone floors, and small windows which do not let in a great deal of sunlight. We find that by keeping everything open n the day to let in as much warm air as possible, and shutting up all the windows at tea-time, we keep ours fairly warm. It is a nice big room, and Mrs Pike has given us an extra arm-chair and a good table for typing at. These we carry on to the lawn, just outside, where we can either get full sunshine, or shade from some small trees which have a mass of blossoms on them, evidently most agreeable to bees, for they are busy there from early morning and make a nice homely buzzing.

The main house is a long single storied building, with a very wide stoop along its northern front, all mosquito-proofed, as are the doors and windows of all the rooms. Until a couple of years ago, the building was thatched and must have looked charming, but there was a fire and in an hour the house was a smoking ruin. At that time Mrs Pike was managing it for its previous owner, and in treaty to buy it. Much as she hates corrugated roofs, she said she knew after that experience she would never have a moments peace if it were thatched once more, so an iron roof it now has. The rondavels dont have fires in them so she is not afraid of them. The lounge is a pretty, comfortable room, with two fireplaces in it where log fires are lit at dusk, and there is a nice feeling of spaciousness about the whole place, with the added charm that if one does not want to be with ones fellow guests, one can be out of doors all day.

The estate stands in a loop of the White River, and the house and gardens are on a northern facing slope. In front of the stoop there is lawn, separated by a pergola from a lower terrace, on which there is a small swimming pool. Below this rough stone steps and paths lead down to the river where it makes its way amongst a picturesque mass of tumbled rocks. Its possible to get across here by making one or two bold jumps, and this opens out further possibilities of walks. At the moment the only flowers in the garden are cannas, bougainvillias, and masses of poinsettias, but they give plenty of colour. It is a delightful spot. A t this time of year there are no mosquitos, and Mrs Pike says there are remarkably few in summer.

My letter last week was finished off in rather a hurry, as Mr Westgate offered to take us with him to Barberton, about fifty miles south of this place, on Monday. Herbert had found the days motoring the previous week rather too tiring, added to which his cold was bothering him, so he did not go. Mr Westgate filled up the vacant seats in his car with Mr and Mrs Ritch. Barberton is an old gold-diggers town, which existed before Jo’burg was thought of. It has remained a little frontier dorp, while its young rival has grown into a great metropolis. It has a remarkable situation. It stands at the foot of the great Drakensberg range, which rises like a wall behind it. * * * * I broke off here to go and get the map and have a look at it. I think Mr Westgate was wrong in saying that the mts behind the town were the Drakensbert, except in the general sense that they are an offshoot of the same big system. They are distinctly marked as a subsidiary range called the Makonjwa. The map has alos shown me that the lozenge-shaped stretch of veldt across which Barberton looks northwards, is not completely surrounded by hills as it appears to be to the uninstructed eye. There is a narrow break to the east, between two 4.000 ft peaks, where the river which drains this strange enclosed area, breaks through on its way to the sea. Its regular Rider Haggard country, this enclosed plain of tall tawny grass, and flat topped thorn trees, and one can well imagine Zulus with shield and assegais creeping through it. It has a claim to more modern fame, as the original home of the Gerbera jamsonii, or Barberton Daisy, which has been such a joy to us in India for many years past.

The road by which we entered and left the arena, climbed a 3,500 ft pass on the northern rim of hills, from which there was a magnificent view. I was sorry Herbert had not felt up to coming.

Apart from this we have not done much this week. We went out to a nice little sherry party one evening, where we found that our host, Mr. Ritchie, has known the Graham family of Kalimpong all his life. (This may be of interest to those in India) and that his home is on Lord Carmichaels’s estate. Lord C. was Governor of Bengal when first we went to India.

I got a lift to the house where Mrs Iron is staying on Thursday and had tea and a walk with her. Herbert’s cold has made him feel disinclined for walking, so I have taken Smut, the spaniel, for one or two short walks on our own. Smut begins to indicate that he is expecting a walk directly we appear for tea, and almost shames us into taking him out even if we feel disinclined.

We were sorry to say good-bye to the Westgates a few days ago, and to Mr and Mrs. Ritch this morning. Other guests have also moved off and for the moment the girl from Ceylon, who is Toby Gibson’s god-daughter and ourselves are the only remaining ones. Mrs Pike has had bad luck. Two couples have had to cancel bookings because army leave was not granted and another party of father, mother and two children could not come because the young developed measels. However she says she has been very busy, so she is not sorry to have a few days to have a good turn out and general tidy up, before she fills up completely next week.

We shall miss the Ritches. He was very leisurely in his talk, but he had a fair mind and held well balanced views on so many of this country’s problems connected with the Indians and the Natives. He thinks many of the inhabitants of this country are only growing a social conscience very, very slowly. He says that he knows most of the Native Chiefs and such intelligentsia as exist, and that the standard of knowledge and understanding amongst them is by no means as negligible as many people make out. Most of the natives are keen on getting their children educated and will send them miles daily to get to a school, so there is likely to be a big step forward in the next generation or two.

This letter is singularly uninspired I am afraid. I am still feeling a trifle below par, and perhaps that makes me duller than usual.

Time seems to be drifting on and we can get no nearer settling anything about our return to England. Its funny to think that when we left India I cherished the hope that we might be home by June.

Best love to you all
LJT

Family letter from HPV

c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
June 21st 1943 Monday

My Dear Annette (name handwritten)

This has been a week of disaster, or at any rate of cause for gloom. Joan has had a chill which upset her insides and made her take to her bed; and although she proclaimed yesterday that she was much better she is again today not at all fit. For my part I continue to nurture a sore throat of which I announced the beginnings last week; and although it is better so far that I can now speak without pain and with some distinctness I drag myself around pre-cheiropractor style. The weather is changeable; contrary to what was said of the East Transvaal climate there is a good deal of cloud about; when it comes over the wind is chilly and when it does not the sun is really hot. It is true that this is splendid weather for those who can brisk about and keep up the circulation; but I confess to feeling very miserable. It is difficult to dress for such changes.

Did I tell how my back seemed, without cause that I could remember, to go still and painful on the day when my throat started going wrong? It is better though it still feels a bit queer; and I wonder whether by some unsuspected jerk I have undone the work of Mr. Stobie. A couple of days ago at Joan’s suggestion I started cleaning up two hedges of euphorbia which were full of dead leaves; and thus soothed my sorrows. But today Joan produced the theory that she had made a mistake in suggesting activities which entailed much bending and that it would put my back wrong as, she now alleges, the weeding at Elgin did. So I have obediently renounced it, though lamenting that so admirable a way of forgetting worries and of passing time should be barred to me in future.

Barring the young Mrs. Burnaby who is a permanency here (refugee from Ceylon and here for more than a year already) all other guests have left and the chance that measles have broken out in the family due to arrive tomorrow will prevent the place from filling up for some time to come. The Westgates who took us out the trip to the town of Nelspruit and Joan to Barberton went off three or four days ago, and arrived safely in Johannesburg in spite of Mrs. W’s fears of the journey; she has a weak heart and looks very frail. She apprehended that she might break down, while he is not supposed to drive at all and was not fit to do a trip of over 250 miles over mountains and lonely roads. Yesterday the fool woman of whom I wrote last week went off, to the general relief. Her husband, a queer close-mouthed old bird, came to fetch her; it is strange to see how the two of them sit with not one word to say to each other and we could not help feeling that they were well matched in ability to bore each other and any strangers present. He must be twenty years her senior and must be regretting the impulse which led to the marriage; a warning to us all. This morning the Ritches left for Pretoria, a long trip for so frail an old man. Mrs. R was most amusing as well as kind; never have I known such outspoken vulgarity as hers and I believe that she would get on well with Peggie. Her tales of sea-sickness on her two journeys by sea surpassed anything imaginable. In comparison I felt refined.

The back exercises have been neglected this week and the only one of the whole lot recommended by Stobie that I have kept up has been the rising up on the toes. Tests in the bathroom (wet feet on the floor) indicate that if I had fallen arches I have them no longer; prints of the ball of the foot and of the heel only. As to the eye-exercises I have gazed through shut lids in the direction of the sun every morning; have done the swing (like a golf-swing but without keeping the head straight) twice a day religiously; and have done a fair amount of reading without glasses with much blinking. Gradually I should beyond doubt have attained to proficiency in these arts but the cold has been a set-back; not only did the book forbid anything likely to tire the eyes when one is seedy but I lack the energy for practice. Perversely as soon as I became seedy and should therefore have renounced reading I took to reading a lot again. While I felt fit as I did comparatively after our first arrival I abstained quite easily from reading.

Two nights ago I got out some notes that I made in Cape Town and started typing out a summary of Bentley’s ideas about malaria; not successfully. My power to compress things into a few clear sentences has disappeared. Yesterday I got out H.D.’s book on typing and did a couple of exercises; but without conviction or result. Tidy typing seems beyond me; it is a matter of feeling fit and energetic and exercises will not put it right, but the temptation to have another try is irresistible.

(handwritten addition at bottom of letter) It was a pleasure to get your airgraph. I congratulate you on managing to include so much. It is a long time since we had news so recent.

Much love
Dad

(added to Romey’s letter) It is Tuesday. A lovely day. No reason why I should not be happy.

Air Graph No 12 from LJT to Aunt (GCT)

Townend.c/oStandard Bank. Cape Town. June 22nd 1943

Dearest Grace: no mail from England for a long time, but an air-graph last night from Annette, dtd 30.5.43. This got to Jo’burg, where they are delt with on 17th, but has been to Cape Town & back here, so you see they are really coming in a little over a fortnight. In her previous one she told us of the death of Mrs Watson, which grieved us much. It must have been a great blow to you, for I know you were so fond of her. Knowing how attached Richard was to her, I had been looking forward to meeting her. I wonder what was the cause of her death. In this air-graph, Anne says there had been an air-raid on Chelmsford. We so often wonder and feel anxious when we hear of raids on the Eastern Counties, but how small the anxiety is compared with 1940. There is no very striking news to give you of ourselves. I have been foolish enough to get a chill on the liver, which kept me in bed on Saturday, and from which I am not yet perfectly recovered. Herbert’s cold also hangs on, & he has been depressed about it the last two days, feeling that it has been a major set-back. He always gets these waves of depression as you know, & its not surprising when he has to tolerate hanging about doing nothing at a time like this. I feel it myself, but we are both longing to get home, of course, and I wish I could see a clearer way to doing so sooner. Much will depend on the war news of the next few months. There has been a big clear out of visitors from this place, & in company from a girl, Mrs Burnaby from Ceylong (who turns out to be Toby Gibson’s god-daughter) we are the only remaining guests. One family who were to have come, have got measels, and a cancellation of leave, has prevented other. It will be full up again next week. We were sorry to say goodbye to the two elderly couples from Jo’burg who have been so friendly to us & taken us for drives, and may see them again if we break journey there on our way south. We went to a sherry party last week & met some nice people, & we are going to another to-night. It seems the favourite form of entertainment here. Most people are busy in the day. I got a lift one afternoon & had tea & a walk with Mrs Iron, otherwise we have not done much in the way of walking or other diversions. Would you pass this address on to Annette? Lady Blandy. c/o The High Commissioner for India. India House. Aldwych. London. Lady B. has sent A. the clothes I entrusted to her. It will be a disappointing is Romey cannot go to the States for a years study. I think she would get a better job in Canada than if she tried to get back to England, don’t you? I wonder whether H.D. will leave John in Canada if the war finishes fairly soon. At one time he talked as if he might. I am sorry I forgot Peg’s birthday again this year. Will you send her 10 shillings from us, with our blessing? I am glad Annette has accepted the price of making her coat & skirt. I hope you debited us with the cost of making your dress too. In a sea letter I have told A. to get three books & ask you for the cost. Best love.

Family letter from LJT No 25

Mrs. HPV Townend
“Jatinga”
Plaston. E.Tvl.
June 26th 1943

My Dears,

Mrs. Pike fears we may feel dull, with the house so empty, but I think we both enjoy it, though Herbert’s cold has not quite cleared up and still makes him feel a bit no-how-ish. My chill soon cleared itself up, and I was able to go to a sherry party at a neighbouring house on Tuesday evening, where we met some more nice people, and received offers of hospitality after the election day, July 7th. Several of the people in the neighbourhood are running the local campaign. From our point of view its difficult to see what sort of a leg the Malanites have to stand upon, but there are a good number of people in this country who have set themselves so madly to seek national independence, that they are willing and indeed anxious, to sacrifice practical freedom, which they enjoy in the British Commonwealth of Nations, for any sort of miserable slavish dependence upon the promises and goodwill (if such a thing exists) of the Axis countries. They are being taunted with a complete volte face with regard to the soldiers. All along they have blamed men who joined the army as traitors to their country. Now they want their votes, so they are saying all sorts of pretty things to them, and telling them how well the Nationalists will care for them, if only they will help to put them into power. Its strange to watch how a nationalist obsession puts the ablest mind into blinkers. That was the outstanding impression I got from Jewahalal Nehru’s auto-biography which I read some years ago. Truth ceases to count, except in so far as it can be twisted or given false colours, to make it support an argument.

Little by little we begin so see some of the difficulties of dealing with the Afrikander, especially the back-veldter. So many of them are people who have stuck in one little set of ideas, take a pride in being so fixed, and will not read or listen to any arguments that are likely to jog them up. We have a small example before us here. Mrs Pike is building a pair of new rondavels. A local builder and a local thatcher are doing them. The builder, a stout and genial soul, is a competent workman. The Thatcher, who is a thin and rather miserable looking party, with a drooping moustache, is a first class craftsman. Both are Afrikanders. Neither can make any sort of estimates. Mrs Pike had to do all the estimating. She remarked yesterday that it was lucky that she cut and dried double the quantity of thatch grass that the Thatcher said he would want, for he has just finished one rondavel and part of the bathroom roof, and he has used almost half what she provided. Now that is a man who has been thatching all his life. It seems to me just incredible. When the big house had to be rebuilt after the fire two years ago, she had to give the job to a Johannesburg firm, because these local people could not estimate. The question is, is it really lack of mental ability, or is it a sort of obstinacy. Their fore-fathers did not estimate. They started off, and when they saw that they were running out of bricks, they baked some more, or cut more wood or more thatch-grass, and the present generation are hanged if they are going to behave differently.

They are jealous of the Indian’s success as a trader, but they cut off their own noses, by making no attempt to compete in efficiency with the Indian. In White River, the two big general shops, which still carry remarkably good stocks, and which are bright, clean and well-arranged, belong to Indians and are staffed by Indians. In Nelspruit, which would class itself as a town, all the big shops are Indian. There is no comparison with the shops in the village at Elgin, which serve a similar sort of district, and which are owned and run by Afrikanders. They are grubby, untidy, inefficient and badly stocked compared with the Indian shops in this part of the world. It will be interesting to see whether improved schools, improved communications, and the leven brought back by the men who have been to the war, will bring some realization of the importance of moving with the times, to so many people who have made it their special cult not to do so.

The building of the new rondavels is a matter of great interest to us all. The Thatcher, whose work is beautiful, is incredibly slow. He blames his native boys for delay, but it is apparent that fairly constant attention from Mrs Pike both in the form of admiration and of questions, does help the work along. The builder needs no pushing, but he cant get the cement floors in till the thatching is finished. Herbert and I enjoy seeing the native boys, three or four of them, arrive in the morning soon after seven o’clock, though they dont start work till eight. They make a little fire on the rough ground out beyond our rondavel, and make themselves some tea or something in a large tin can, while they warm their hands and feet at the blaze. They wear the most extraordinary selection of garments. The prize goes to a singularly ugly fellow, with only one eye, who has a pair of ragged khaki shorts, a once white sailor’s jumper, with stars in the corners of the dark blue collar, a very tight canary-colored sleeveless pullover, and a shapeless felt hat. Its amusing to think how well-dressed a man who turned up at the post office at Plaston looked by comparison. He was the perfect “savage” of my childhood’s picture books. He wore a wide waist band of beads, from which small leather aprons hung, both fore and aft. He had a collar of beads and several necklaces hanging over his shining black chest. He had quantities of metal bracelets up his fore-arms and on his legs. His hair was fairly long, sticking out in a wooly halo round his head. It was bound with a red band from one side of which stuck up two or three eagle feathers.

He came on a bicycle; jumped off it and collected his papers at the P.O. in a most business-like fashion: hopped on his bike and peddled off again, all with great dignity and unselfconsciousness. Its a pity that civilization has so far only been able to offer European style rags as an alternative to beads and leather aprons.

At last I have started on a little war-work. On Wednesday afternoons and Thursday mornings, I am able to get a lift to the S.A.W.A.S. depot in the village, where I help to sort and pack paper and other “Rubbish”. I am glad to be doing even this much, though it seems a small contribution towards beating Hitler. As we listen to the wireless after dinner each night, I think of all the millions of people who switch on wondering whether to-night is the night when we shall hear that something startling has happened. Our eight o’clock session from the B.B.C.is six o’clock in London. Heaven knows what it would be in Canada. I am quite lost in trans-Atlantic times.

Taking advantage of the empty house, we had a little drink party last evening, at which we entertained the three couples to whose houses we have been, as well as a Mrs Gemmil, at whose house we were on Tuesday. It was delightful in the lounge with the two log fires, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Talk certainly never flagged. I am so glad to have had the opportunity of repaying a little hospitality.

Mrs Pike had to go into Nelspruit yesterday morning, chiefly to take her native nurse girl to be fitted for false teeth, so we took the opportunity of going with her, Herbert to get his hair cut, and myself simple for the sake of a pretty drive and to be companionable. The fifteen miles between here and Nelspruit are over high open grass country with beautiful views down the Karino Valley, and to distant mountains in other directions. Tremendous shoppings went on in the “town”. We had morning tea at the Paragon Hotel, built just before the war to meet the tourist traffic, which flows through this little place, because it is one of the most convenient entrances to the Kruger Park. There is not much tourist traffic to the Park now, but all hotels in Africa seem to have plenty of people wanting to stay in them, so I daresay this one has not done too badly. By the time we left Nelspruit the car was pretty well loaded up with parcels, sacks, boxes of soda-water and all manner of household stuff, but we still stopped in our own village to add a little more and topped it off by cutting great branches of guava leaves, now turning a dull bronze to mix in with the poinsettias in the big jars in the lounge, where they look lovely.

One mail, with a nice letter from Harry, had come in this week, but its ages since we got a sea-mail from England, and sometime since we had anything from Canada. We ought to get a good bunch soon. Oh, by the way Dot Bromley had food parcels sent off to Grace and to Annette for us this week. I hope they arrive safely.

Best love to you all LJT

Romey, Mrs. Pike is very keen on collecting Empire stamps, and if you are sending an air-mail letter some time and could put one of the new issue dollar stamps on it, she would be most grateful. She also has not got the 8 cents of the new issue or the 13 cents of the old set. It might be possible for you to put these on your letters some time. Of course, they won’t get here before we leave, but I can always post them back. Mrs. Pike has given us a lot of Kenya and Uganda stamps which Dad is keeping for John.

Best love,
Mother

Family letter from HPV

c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
June 26th 1943. Sunday.

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

This week has passed much as last did. My sore throat still continues and I still have the mouldiness that attaches to a cold; gloom is not so inspissated but sufficient to be apparent. Joan on the other hand is much recovered; she has plunged again into war-work, such as is available, and shown more energy over it than customary to the inhabitants of these parts; and she has made social engagements.

My own activities have not been great. I went one morning with Mrs. Pike up to the village; chiefly because I had not been out of this compound for days on end but also with the idea of checking certain things on the map. Mr. Westgate lent us a blue print of the properties of the White River Syndicate which covered a good deal of the country interesting us; and I made a half sketch and half trace of roads and streams off this. My check made it clear that the print showed some roads which have never been made; and from the speedometer I was able to get the position of the church and one or two other land marks. Unless I do more walking than I have been doing there is little chance of the map coming to anything; one snag is that it is not too easy these days, after the rain which has swollen the river, to get across it over the rocks. There are four places where a crossing is possible, but two involve getting the shoes a bit wet, which is awkward when there is rock to be traversed later, and the other two involve strides almost impossible to one in a skirt.

To revert to my activities; I went in to Nelspruit with a family excursion to get my hair cut. A dirty little shop, to tell the truth; but it was obviously useless to think of such things as the owner would not have known the difference. The electricity went off at the main just as he had finished using the clippers on me; and though it made no sort of difference to him then he made this the occasion for a tale about the iniquities of the Electricity Supply Co. that involved more bloodies than anything else in my experience. However I retained my benevolence.

Mrs. Westgate was justified in her fears of what would happen if she went back to Johannesburg though she insisted on going; news came in that her heart failed three days ago; and the general opinion is that her death was a mercy. The officer man from Java and Malaya went off last week; to my regret, for I was getting Malayan phrases out of him and verifying the correctness of my sentences. It rather astonished to find that I knew already so many of the sentences which he produced for my edification and amazement. The difficulty about Malayan is that insensibly I revert to Hindustani pronunciations of the written symbols; long a in Malayan is pronounced more like that in lass than that in pass and I drift into the latter.

The nights are cold. Too cold by far to allow me to stop and look at the stars which are very fine. The constellations are at their old game of deceiving the observer by turning up on their sides or upside down; and I have been quite diddled by a group well-known to me which come up over the house just as I go off to bed. It is so cold that the residents talk of it and compare notes as to the comfort of hot-water bottles (not to be bought nowadays) and Cashmere shawls; from which it may be guessed that several of them have been in India. Of hot-water bottles it is to be said that last night Joan found one under her pillow; and in the morning I found its jacket under mine. That is about the only thing that I have never put under my pillow even by inadvertence.

Not a good week for the exercises though I have done more that way than reported in my last letter. I have awoken to the realization that the eye-exercises in the Pretoria book are rather different in principle from those in the book (by a quack, I think) which I bought in London and handed on to Rosemary. The latter aimed at exercising the eye-muscles; but the new book takes it for granted that the muscles are strong enough and aims at teaching one to relax them completely when they are not in use and as much as possible when they have to be at work. On the whole I have done a fair amount in the way of eye exercise of late; and if the ability to read the newspaper without glasses is any test there have been some results. These many mistakes in typing are the direct result of visits from half a dozen bothersome flies; I am writing at a table in the sun in the garden outside our rondaval. ?rondavel? I have even turned back to the pressing down of the tongue with a spoon; which is a thing likely to induce vomiting, though less so when one does it in solitariness.

Monday.

It is as it were a triumph that today Joan remarked that my little toes have responded to the exercises by becoming distinctly more stout and somewhat straighter.

It is strange that we have not mentioned in any of our letters the existence of a beautiful cat with a less beautiful brother kitten; grey Persian, not comparable to the Highways cats in thickness of coat. The kitten is of the most vivacious and its two-year elder brother is kind to it; they bound and they wrestle after meals in a manner that outdoes all-in wrestling. At the call “Kits, Kits” theyrush with straight up tails for food; and it was a delight to see, the other evening, how at the call they fled from the verandah into the office where they feed with the little kitten under the belly of the cat, utterly unnatural but much like the comic strips or the Cartoons. The kitten is not too well brought up. Two nights ago I remarked that the evening before, as a sign that he had appreciated the lesson that he must not retire to the coal-scuttle near the big fireplace, he had made for the fireplace at the other end of the room and established himself comfortably under the iron basket in which a fire is lighted only when the house is full of guests. At this remark those three frivolous women, Joan, Mrs. Pike and Mrs. Burnaby, burst into merry laughter (hee-haws and what not) – for no better reason than that the perfectly descriptive phrase “established himself” seemed to them absurd; and as if to the word of command the kitten till then quite serene roused himself and stalked down the room again to the fireplace, where he calmly sat himself under the basket once more. In spite, I may say, of my having rebuked him before. Amazement rather than mirth; but it was funny. The result is that the words “establish himself” are now taboo in polite society. Mrs. B. came in yesterday and announced that the kitten during the night had actually established himself on the baby’s bed and had been spanked for it. It is strange how often the phrase is used in ordinary conversation.

It has been a triumph to me that I should have been able to restore to use a tie condemned by Joan as fit only for the wastepaper basket. It was of blue silk with white or whitish squares upon it; and the squares had worn off in the part where the knot comes. I found that the silk of the squares had perished and by brushing with a hard brush and by rubbing with a finger nail I have utterly removed all traces of them and have in effect got a perfectly good dark-blue tie, which will come in usefully for wear with the startlingly vivid check shirts bought for me by Joan in Calcutta. Like those of which two were sent to Parp; I do not know whether they ever arrived.

Much love
Dad

Airgraph from LJT to Annette (addressed to Miss Annette Townend. P.O. Box. 222. S.W.70 Howick Place. London S.W1 England)

No 13 June 29th 1943

My darling Annette. Thanks for A.G. of 30/5, which reached Jo’burg on 13/5 & after going to Cape Town, reached me here on 21.6/43. So glad the skirt etc arrived safely. I repeat Lady Blandy’s address. c/o High Commissioner for India. India House. Aldwych. London. I sent her an A.G. as soon as I got yours. Its good of you to plan to do part time harvesting work and to spend the other half of your holiday at it. It makes me envious, for here I am & can find so little to do for the war. I have managed to get into the Anti-Waste section of the S.A.W.A.S. now, and worked at sorting paper and rags last Wed. Afternoon and Thurs. morning. Hope to do this each week as long as we are here. During the past week I have been longing more than ever to get home. I rather fancy part of Dad’s depression recently has been due to a feeling of futility, and an ache to be doing something. If this is so, maybe it is a sign that he is getting stronger. I begin to think it would be a good thing to try to get back to England next spring whether the war is over or not. I must discuss it with him. The papers here are dividing their interest between the war, the coming elections, and the huge Military Parade which took place in Jo’burg last Saturday. I listened in to Smut’s speech. It was all good stuff, if only people will listen, but the out & out nationalists wont even do that. The colour question, religion, in fact every facet of life is dragged into politics, but even Dr Malan has his good points. Reading about malaria control in S. Africa, Dad found that he is the only big political figure who has ever taken the subject seriously. I hope you manage to get out to Ivinghoe Beacon some day. It’s a lovely spot, & was a favourite outing of Uncle Bernard’s & of the Pilkingtons from London. One of the ancient British roads runs below it, & it is a place which always makes me conscious of the early British past. Its been a quiet week here. My chill was quickly over, but Dad’s cold has still not quite cleared up, so that he has not been feeling like walking far. We have been short strolls, to the infinite pleasure of the Spaniel, “Smut”. We were out to drinks at a neighbouring house one evening, & had a little sherry party here on Friday, which went off nicely. It was a good opportunity to entertain a few people while the house was empty. Mrs Pike had to go to the town of Nelspruit, fifteen miles away, one morning, & took us along. It’s a beautiful drive, which was what chiefly attracted me. Dad needed a hair-cut & I did a few little odds of shopping. We stopped on the way home to cut branches of guava leaves which had turned a beautiful dull bronze. They looked lovely in the big jars of poinsettias in the lounge, and were much admired by our guests that evening. Yesterday I was persuaded to go out riding, & enjoyed it much. Wonderful to relate I am not stiff to-day. We went gently, & did not gallop at all. I am rather hoping to persuade Dad to get on a horse again. The two belonging to this place are very quiet, & small; about 13 hands. One can go out on them with the idea of using them as a means of transport, to get to some of the hill-tops which are too far for a walk. Best love. Mother (Mrs. H.P.V. Townend)

Air Graph No 13 from LJT to Romey

Townend. c/o Standard Bank. Cape Town. June 29th 1943

My darling Romey, the past fortnight has been a very blank one as far as letters is concerned. Your last big budget came on 11th June. Since then we have had one air-graph from Anne, but no English sea-mail has come for more than a month. Thanks to Helen for March copy of “The Beaver” rcd yesterday. I’ve just been right through your last three letters again. Here’s advice about shoulder straps, learnt by bitter experience. Put little loops with fastening for catching the straps, inside all shoulders of all your dresses, blouses & jumpers. It’s the only cure if you are the sort of person who otherwise breaks them. I wish I could see you with your new perm & your new frocks. I cant tell you how eager we are for your next letters. They must come soon! I do so hope you will be able to do down to the States. I have made such a mass of notes about your letters, that I shall have to devote a personal sea-mail letter to them & use this to give you a little news of ourselves. Dad’s cold has still not completely cleared up. It made him feel no-how-ish and not inclined for long walks, so we have been quite short strolls of an evening, exploring the kaffir paths round about, and trying down the river to find a good crossing place. Smut, the black spaniel loves this, as he likes lots of time to sniff about. He has an infuriating habit of walking just in front of one on the narrow trails through the long grass, and stopping every few minutes to leg-lift! I sat writing out-of-doors one morning not long after I sent my last air-graph to you, & did not realize that a cold wind had sprung up & was blowing on my back. Result a chill on the liver, which made me spend one day in bed, but it was quickly cured. Nearly all the other guests at this place, went away about ten days ago, and those who were to fill the place up failed. One family had measels & two other couples had military leave cancelled. It’s a financial loss for Mrs Pike, but she says she does so enjoy a quiet spell every now & again. We have enjoyed it, & took the opportunity of having a little sherry party last Friday, at which we were able to entertain the kind folk who have had us to their houses. It went off very nicely, and resulted in arrangements for several more outings, notably a ride for me. This took place yesterday. I had a very quiet grey pony, standing about 13 hands. The ride, with a Mrs Ritchie, was leisurely and wonderful to relate I am scarcely at all stiff to-day. We did not gallop at all, and only did one short canter. The pony’s trot was very easy, so I suppose I did not have to grip much. I am hoping Dad may feel equal to trying a ride of this sort, really using the horses just as a means of getting to the tops of some of the hills from which there are such beautiful views, and which are a bit beyond walking distance. Dad has been a bit depressed lately. Its partly his cold, I think, but I think he has also been feeling that its futile to be doing nothing, when there is still so much to do to beat Hitler. This may be a sign that he is feeling a little stronger. I am now helping at the anti-waste depot two days a week & am glad to be doing something. Love to you all. (Mrs H.P.V.Townend)

From LJT to Rosemary

“Jatinga”, Plaston East Transvaal
June 29th, 1943 (rec’d Aug 25, ‘43 by sea)

My darling Romey,

I have just finished air-graph No 13, but previous to writing it, I went through your last packet of letters and took some notes about them, so it seems a good moment to write a personal letter, which I so seldom do lately. If your reward for writing so much and so regularly is appreciation, you may be sure to have full measure from us. Your letters have made all the difference through this long time of parting, and have made me feel that we are not cut off from you. Winsome has always had that funny kink about disliking typewritten letters. She does so little writing herself. Also I don’t think she is interested in the customs, scenery, politics, or anything else of countries other than where she is living. I don’t remember when I was not interested in such things. I waded happily through long descriptions of scenery and customs in the adventure books of my youth, which gave one plenty of ready matter for the money.

It was quite nice to hear a little news of Polo’s doings. How glad the dogs must be when the snow clears away and they get down to all the good smells of mother earth again. I don’t think Uncle George need fear that you will grow out of a love for horses and dogs. If the feeling is really in you, it never disappears. By the way, you shocked Dad by a slip in English. You said “I arranged for John and I to go riding”! Dad made terrible grimaces when he read this! I hope, by the way, you did get a few good rides when the weather was favorable. I enjoyed being on horse yesterday, though it’s not country about here which one can go any pace over. Where it is open, it is almost waist high in dry grass and plants, and it is impossible to know what this conceals in the way of rocks and holes. The roads are too hard to gallop or even to canter much on, except occasional sandy patches.

Your final days with the Sorority seem to have been a busy round of parties for Hrs. Haberman. Does she have to go from University to University, being entertained and making speeches like that most of the time?

Talking about keeping and sorting letters, I have al that you have written since the beginning of the war. If you haven’t kept copies for yourself, you may be interested to read, at any rate, some of them when you come home.

I am looking forward to reading the article on the founding of Victoria, which is one of the features of the new copy of “The Beaver”. It does sound a lovely place. I wonder whether you will be able to go away for a holiday this year before you start work of some sort.

How is your attempt to train John in some appreciation of classical music getting on? It is noble work, for, like appreciation of the best of any sort of thing, once it has grown in to you, it flourishes on its own, and gives you a personal yard-stick with which to measure what comes your way. That is one of the great arguments for better films. Give the people better stuff to look at and listen to, and they will soon learn to prefer it to the bad. Have you come across Lin Yutang’s novel “A Leaf In the Storm”? It is about the war in China, and I have found it most interesting. I want to get hold of his “Moment in Pekin”, which is also said to be very good. Did Aunt mention to you a book called “The Three Bamboos” about a Samurai family in Japan? I want to read it too.

There are several books about English farming by Street in this house, and in one which I recently read, there is a Canadian interlude in which he went to Canada and farmed on the prairies about 150 miles from Winnipeg. I was interested that he never mentioned the winds, which were such a feature of “As For Me and My House”. I wonder if he was in the same sort of district.

I am sorry that Canada shares the ugly habit of truncating people’s names, with Australia and New Zealand. Don’t you think it is ugly, when you stop to think of it? “Norm” instead of “Norman” and so on? I wonder how the habit grew up, and whether the young countries will outgrow it.

What’s the news of John Averill? I have never been very clear whether he had gone for army training, or what he was doing.

I liked hearing about your new frocks, and hope we shall see some photos of you in some of them. I do hope the money we were able to send via Edward was enough to buy you a nice evening frock and a little something over for a present.

There is a young married woman staying here, who came over from Ceylon when things looked so nasty after the fall of Rangoon and the Andermans. She is twenty-two, very pretty and sweet, but so feckless and vague. She leaves her belongings, letters, bits of knitting etc about all over the house, and never seems able to stick to any one thing. She has been here over a year, and Mrs. Pike says she can’t help being fond of her, like one is fond of a pretty kitten, but that it is such a pity she has not been brought up to start a job and go through with it, for Mrs P would willingly knock something off her board and lodging if only she could be trusted to undertake a few jobs like looking after the house linen, doing the flowers and simple routine things like that. This girl hasn’t any brains, I think, but the sad thing is she has no notion of either private or public duty. You can tell from her conversation that her ideals are all directed towards making life as easy, and as pleasant as possible, and that, I can’t help thinking, is a fault In her upbringing. I can’t imagine that anyone could grow up with that attitude to life at Highways.

It’s more than a month since we had letters from Aunt, and I am just hungry for news. I like your expression, saying you had a letter from her full of “lovely village news”. Mrs. Watson’s death must have been a great blow to her, for I think she was deeply attached to her. I am so sorry, and sad myself, for Richard was so fond of Mrs. Watson and I had greatly looked forward to getting to know her.

The longing to get home has been very insistent this week, and I fancy as Dad gets stronger, he feels it too, though he is so frightened of the cold. I begin to think that it would be a good thing for us to try to get home in the spring whether the war is over or not. A sort of dissatisfaction eats into one, when one has to go on, month after month, hanging about doing nothing that is worthwhile, when active hands and brains are needed for so many jobs in England. It seems ungracious to feel that when we are living in such comfort and in such lovely surroundings, but that is part of the trouble. One feels one ought to be putting up with some discomfort and deprivations at a time like this.

I wish Judy and Edward had been about this week, when there is room for them here. They may possibly be up this way in July on some research work for Government, but from what I can hear, not only this house, but another guest house and the hotel in the village are all absolutely full in July, and we had wanted them to come and stay here for a little as our guests. I have written to ask them to let us know the moment their plans are fixed, so that we may make definite enquiries. The trouble is that school holidays begin next week and last through July, so all holiday places tend to be full up.

It is jut past three o’clock on a most perfect afternoon. I think everyone else in the house is asleep, which seems a waste of time on such a lovely day. I shall knock off writing now, and get in an hour’s work at knitting a pullover for the Navy league, and reading a book at the same time. I try to do that every afternoon, generally out-of-doors. I have a nice book stand, which makes knitting and reading at the same time easy.

We enjoyed the letter which Helen wrote on the back of yours very much. She has a vivid way of writing. I wonder how the situation is with regard to a maid. A few weeks back you said you were expecting one, but no mention of her arrival has come;. It would be nice to think of Susie having an easier time as far as the house is concerned.

Much love,
Mother

The Townend Family Letters

Correspondence from the 1930s - 1940s between members of the Townend family

HPV + LJT Letters 1942 to 1944