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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

1943 May

Family letter from LJT No 17

Sea Point.
Cape Town.
May 1st 1943.

My Dears,

A very belated letter from Grace, i.e. No 5 of Dec 17th, reached us two days ago. Also a much more modern one from Gwen Petrie, written on March 3rd. As well as these, we had a letter of Feb 2nd from Romey, and air mail letters from Mary Ow Wachendorf from Florida and from the wife of the U.S. Minister in Haiti, who used to be the Consul in Calcutta. Mary Ow had only just got our letter about Richard. I don’t know why it had taken so long to reach her, and Mrs. White had heard from Edward Groth. She passed on a fine idea which she had once heard in a Good Friday Sermon. “Some people like the repentant thief, recognize that they are suffering for their misdeeds, but some people are good enough to be allowed to suffer for others”. How true that must be of many who have been killed or maimed in this war.

The fury of the fighting in Tunisia, and the knowledge that tremendous battles may break out at any minute all along the Russian front, creates the same feeling of difficulty about writing letters, that I experienced in the dreadful days of 1940. Happily the situation is very different, but our doings are so trivial. However we have all learnt that to carry on as faithfully as we can amongst the trivialities of daily life is the best way of contributing our mite to victory. I wish mine could be a little bigger mite. It seems to me to be almost non-existent.

When I last wrote on Good Friday, a “South-Easter” was in its last phase. It blew itself out and blew winter in with it. It was sad for the holiday-makers that three days of the Easter holidays were grey and cold, and a good deal of rain on the Sunday. It was fine again on Monday, but the sun seems to have a different quality. It is thin and pale compared with what it was a week before. The days are really rather delightful, rather like fine English October, but we were wise to arrange to move from this place before it gets too cold, for there is no attempt to heat the public rooms in any way, and no points to which electric heaters could be attached in the bedrooms. Its stupid of the owners to try to scratch beyond the last inch of profit, for the result is that the place is three-quarters empty, while other hotels still have not a vacant room. We find our little sitting room, which is largely windows, too cold after dinner, and sit in the bedroom, with our warm dressing gowns over our clothes. In this way, and by shutting the windows before we go down to dinner, we are reasonably comfortable, but we should be much more so with a fire.

As we had not been to a film for so long, we thought we would go on Easter Monday afternoon. “Ten Gentlemen of West Point” was on at a cinema about five minutes walk away, - - but oh! it was so bad! Coming out, a man came up to me and said “Were you not working in the Supply Dept. in Calcutta?” He was a Burma Oil Co man from Rangoon, who had been in our office several times. It was clever of him to recognize me. He had his wife and small son with him, and we took them all to tea at the Pavilion. He was one of the few wise people who sent his wife and child away directly Japan declared war. He has been at Abadan in Persia and is down here for a holiday.

They are nice people, and invited us to a return tea yesterday. They are at one of the big hotels close to us. It seems a very charming place, but we could not get in there during the season, and anyway we could not have got a sitting room. Most important of all, it is considerably more expensive than this place.

We paddled out in the rain on Easter morning to visit Eileen Forsyth and present Easter Eggs to the children. It was cosy sitting in front of her fire, drinking sherry. Eileen is always in a state of excitement about local politics and problems or about world affairs. She generally has a happy belief that she knows the cure for current troubles, but that others are so wicked or so stupid that they will not listen.

We have been expecting news of the arrival of the seventeen-year-old son of friends of ours from India, who is joining the University here. A letter came from him on Wednesday, and I rang him up at once and arranged for him to meet me when I came out from Office, and come along here. We took him to the Pavilion, our usual tea resort, and later I took him to Eileen’s as I wanted him to meet her. He is a nice lad, and seems to be settling down happily in one of the University boarding houses.

The dentist has at last got on to the job of remaking the fittings for Herbert’s teeth. I shall be so glad for his sake when they are finished, and he can eat in comfort again. I think he has been feeling a bit fitter and more energetic this week.

In the middle of this the post came with air mails from Canada posted on Apr. 6th. It is lovely to have such fresh news.

Best love,
LJT

Air Graph No 9 from LJT to Aunt (GCT)

Standard Bank of S. Africa.Cape Town.    May 1st  1943

Dearest Grace, Your long-delayed letter No 5 of 17/12/42 arrived a few days ago.  Only No 1 is now missing.  I do feel happy to be in proper touch with you all again.  A double air mail from Romey has just come in, as well as a three months old sea-mail.  It will be thrilling to hear the result of her exams.  There is a feeling of change and anticipation in my mind to-day.  I stop work on Tuesday, & have already begun to devote some thought to the necessities of packing.  Herbert nobly went to the station with a long list of questions about times of trains, meals, bedding & so on, came back with all the answers.  I wish that two thirds of our journey were not at night, for I would like to be able to see more of the country.  Last week’s storm ushered in the winter.  It was dull & cold, with some rain over the Easter week-end, but cleared again & is delightful now, but definitely late autumn atmosphere.  The sunlight is pale & thin compared to what it was, & everyone is wearing warm clothes.  We did well to arrange to leave here in May, for there is no attempt to warm the place or control the draughts.  We sit in our own rooms & when cold, put warm dressing-gowns over our day garments.  Herbert is definitely brisker this week & has not so far been oppressed by the cold.  The dentist is now working on the plate for his teeth.  It will be a great comfort when it is done & he can eat with comfort again.  He has been to the chiropractor this morning, as he thought he would like to know whether the exercises are being effective.  The report is good.  The ch.p. points out that his skin has lost its yellow tinge & I think it is true.  This probably means that his liver is functioning better.  Our minds are focused on events in N. Africa, so that it is difficult to write about our little lives.  One cant help feeling anxious about Russia too.  Will the Red Army be able to push the Huns back when the fighting blazes up again?  Just as Southsea used to quiet down & walking on the front used to become much more agreable when the season was over, so the crowds on the front here have disappeared, & walking is much pleasanter.  There are still plenty of children & dogs playing on the grass lawns which lie between the walk at the top of the beach and the road.  There are not nearly so many fat women in slacks a size or two too small for them.  Evidently the wild flowers are coming out already, for the flower-sellers both in the famous flower market in the town, and at the street corner of our local village have baskets of heaths & proteas and other things, as well as garden stuff.  In spite of my speaking of “cold”, it is comparative.  I don’t think Cape Town has any frost to speak of.  There are oranges everywhere, & it gives me a pain in the heart to that that we have so much & you so little.  If only the Coloured people who market the fruit & vegetables in the streets, wore some sort of jolly bright clothes of a style of their own, they would so nice, but the dreadful out-at-elbows drab European clothes they favour, make them sorry sights.  We have had several small afternoon engagements this week, so have not done much walking on the hills.  We may do a tramp to-day.

Best love.        (Mrs H.P.V. Townend)


Family letter from HPV

c/o Standard Bank of South Africa.
Cape Town.
May 2nd. 1943. Sunday.

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

Not much to tell about. Three visits to the dentist last week; small and painful stoppings near gums. Discussion whether I cannot carry on without alterations to my false teeth until the places where teeth used to be have hardened up a bit more; ended by my pointing out that as things are I cannot chew. There is no need of telling by a best friend; I am sure that I am most unsavoury, what with inability to digest and with places in my mouth still unhealed. What is sad is that in future I shall have to try to get in to the dentist between other patients who have appointments; it is useless now to seek to make any for the programme is full till we leave here.

Yesterday I went back to the cheiropractor. He has been away on a month’s holiday. He remarked that I seem to be much better, that my colour is much improved and shows that my blood is more what it should be, and that I may be described as a “white man” again. This is confirmed by the unsolicited evidence of Mrs. Forsyth who remarked that my colour was quite different from what it had been a few weeks ago. It is strange that there is always a sore spot on my spine quite close to the place where the bullet lodged twelve years ago but on the other side from it. I am going to have four more treatments in the two weeks that are left to us, or rather the week and a half. In spite of the hatred that I have developed for the tram-journey to Kenilworth.

I dropped off at the Bank of S.A. on my return journey yesterday and had a long wait in a queue before I got my pay deposited. When I got back on the tick of twelve I went off at once to the Library and found a book which Joan has wanted for some time, thus salving my conscience since she has had very few books out against her subscription and in practice I merely take out an extra one for myself. At three we sallied out to the Empire Club and had tea early before going by tram up to Kloof Nek and walking along the path by which Joan returned from her stay at the Mountain Hut some weeks ago. We went as far as the place where a track strikes off up the mountain to the Hut and then we struck down towards the shore. Through rough stuff and down quite steep slopes. Finally back from Camp’s Bay by bus. And in the evening I felt rather broken in the back and in addition had a bit of a sore throat.

On Friday after dentisting I dropped in at the Cape Times office and searched their old files for the news of the Nova in Argo, of which I have written before. The idea was to find some matter for a letter to the old astronomer in New Zealand. It became clear that no one in South Africa saw the star until it had passed its maximum. From Mr. Gifford’s letter it would seem that the night when I saw it in Bombay was about that on which the star was at its brightest: I was in luck.

There was vast excitement in this hotel one day at lunch time. The canary Pete, had escaped. All the family went out and shouted. You may take it that anyone connected with the running of this hotel shouts at any time when anything happens and most times when it does not. The fat girl Deena actually got onto the roof to attract the bird’s attention with a bit of lettuce or something and was in imminent danger of falling since the slope of it is steep. Then all abused her. Everyone there knew much better than everyone else how the capture should be affected. Even I. Speaking from experience (Mrs. Percy Brown’s) I advised them to put the little creature into the mind of God; and further speaking from experience again (Mr. Percy Brown’s on the same occasion) I added “slosh it with a tennis racquet!” No one listened to any one else. And finally the canary flew into a dust bin and was recovered. All delighted with the adventure except that evil-looking cat which hangs about here and eyes the cage in hope.

I have walked a good deal. One morning in fact I got into shorts and walked through mist up the path round the Lion and down past the Round House to the shore road and so back. Pleasant but sweaty. Mostly my walks have been along the sea front towards the Light-house. It has been doing a lot of fog-horning lately; a dismal noise like a cow with udder-trouble. On one such walk I met the two Forsyth children searching in the earth excavated from the trench where a new sewer is to be. They found numbers of beads; I also. Mrs. Forsyth had been reading to them “Digging up the Past” and they have now a passion for searching dustheaps and such, having misunderstood the remark that more useful information is to be had by the archeologist from an old dustheap than from the ruins of a palace. They laboured under the belief that the beads were prehistoric and recently dug up, whereas it was obvious that some child had broken a necklace there the day before. Pleasant back-chat between the two, very serious. “My best bead is much better than your’s.” announced Timothy: “Yes”, replied Thalassa, “and here is another just like it” producing the most hideous mud-coloured bead ever seen.

They produce for me at meals the most mis-shapen fork ever put before anyone. Both outer prongs bent outwards; it is as if they expected me to go out and spear eels with it. However things have improved since so many persons have moved elsewhere. What joy in the place when the proprietor came up at the very minute when Joan was conversing with Mrs Cross about the lack of hot water! Spying him, she said “You know, there is no hot water again.” at which he, wishing to laugh it off, said “Splendid!” Rather annoyed she replied “Your guests don’t think so” and the intending lodger who unseen was listening to the conversation did not take rooms here. Joan did not know of course that the man was showing someone round, but there is no general regret that his parcimony in the matter of fuel should have this recoiled upon him.

I found her shaking with mirth the other evening when I turned round. It was because after taking Horlicks as advised by the cheiropractor I poured some hot water into the glass and drank that too. A most sensible practice in my opinion, saving waste and avoiding the deposit of milky-water in the slop-pail. She however describes it as drinking dishwater. Anyhow it is not funny. Either sensible or horrid. There goes a bell to announce morning tea. A suitable occasion for bringing this to an end. -

(handwritten addition at end of letter) And so I go on, a bit. I feel that I ought to be able to write something more intimate to my daughters than these highly artificial tripe-letters: but the gap in time is too great. You know, it’s a foolish state of mind that I am in: there is a feeling that if I move somewhere else I may perhaps become fitter, combined with a reluctance to move anywhere. One thing wrong is not being tired through and through when I become tired in the back: there is always a resentment at being tied down by my absurd body. The general chilliness of this place once the sun sets makes the evenings difficult. One cannot really pass an evening to advantage unless one sits up at a table: but that means sitting in the little sitting room which again means a dressing gown and a rug wrapped round one: if one has as little vitality as I. It seems some time since your last letter. Two from Mr Cape came in yesterday – air letters, costing 6d. in postage.

Much love
Dad

(handwritten addition to Romey) Long and interesting letters from you. I cannot imagine how you find time and energy for writing, with you exams hanging over you. I went into the bank one day last week to ask if we could send you something extra, so that you might really have a present instead of mere encouragement to spend money already put at your disposal. They said ‘No’ emphatically. But by no means abstain from buying new dresses, if, as appears probable, there is a balance with you.

The news of your falling downstairs on your back dismayed me. Abstain from such exercises. You might perhaps do well to see a chiropractor yourself if you find yourself at all out of sorts or not up to the mark. You may have twisted our back unwittingly.

Your numerous references to friends leave me quite bewildered. I ought to have kept a card index of them. Do you keep notes about people you meet? I remember telling Richard how I had travel lists of people met abroad with a short remark which brought back memories of them. Eg. “Bob Carruthers does not drink whiskey with limes.” It is a habit that has its uses, but how the list grows!!

Much love,
Dad


Family letter from LJT No 18

Sea Point.
Sat. May 8th 1943

My Dears,

It seems as if the bells ought to be ringing this morning to greet the splendid news that the Allies have taken Tunis and Bizerta. Like everyone else, I feel sorry that the Eighth Army is not in at the kill after all the magnificent work they have done, but they will know that all the world knows that much of the glory is theirs.

These last few days have been happy ones on account of the big things, and of the small. We have had Annette’s letter No 5 of 24th March, with the welcome news that our first food parcels from Africa had arrived safely, as well as another parcel I sent her later. Romey’s No 94 of Jan 31st got here on May 4th; - - rather a contrast to the air mail received on the 1st, which only took just over three weeks. Yesterday and to-day letters from India have been coming in, including a delightful one from Harry, and this morning very nice letter came from Baroness Giskra from Florida, saying how much she wishes she could go up to Canada to see Romey. I had already played with the idea that if Romey goes down to the Southern States, she might perhaps manage to spend a holiday with Baroness Giskra and Mary Ow.

On Monday and Tuesday, my last two days in office, I was pleasantly busy, for the rest of the staff were much occupied with arrangements for a “market” which is to take place every Tuesday in the Red Cross Building, in aid of the Prisoners of War Fund. Last week was the opening day. I was alone in the office till about three o’clock in the afternoon, and was just able to finish the big clean-out of the card-index of candidates, which I initiated a little while ago.

Lady Graaf and the other members of the office, gave me a farewell lunch at Cape Town’s best Restaurant, the Café Royal, on Monday. As a co-guest, they asked Miss Bean, the originator of the whole S.A.W.A.S. and its present head in Cape Province. Of course I had often met her in and out of the office, but I had never had a real talk with her before. It was interesting to note, that by a few well placed questions, she knew more about the work I was doing in India after ten minutes, than the office I am working in know to this day. We had a delicious lunch, and I was pleased by the kind thought behind it.

The most elderly member of the office, Mrs Smuts, had Herbert and myself, and the lad, Blake Pinnell, who has recently arrived from India, all to lunch in her charming flat out in Kenilworth on Sunday. She is an English-woman, who married a relative of Gen. Smuts, and is now a widow with three sons, one a prisoner in Germany, on in N. Africa, and one in the S. A Navy. They were all at the University here, so she says she is prepared to take on Blake as a younger son, and help him in any way she can. Herbert went home after lunch, while Blake and I spent some time in some charming public gardens, which lay on our way to Mrs Cramer Roberts’ house, where we were due for tea. There are young daughters there, so it will be another nice place for Blake to go to.

Looking at my diary, I see that we have had engagements every day this week. I gave Mrs Harvey lunch at the Empire Club on Tuesday. We had a farewell Tea at the Pavilion with Mr & Mrs Biss, acquaintances from long ago in India on Wed. It was a lovely golden sunny afternoon, and it was delightful sitting on the balcony above the sea and talking. They are both such nice people. Herbert and I met Mrs Cramer Roberts for lunch on Thursday, and as I had accumulated a lits of small shoppings and queries about our journey to be attended to, I went in early and attended to them. I had luck in getting in touch with the head of the office where all the booking of accomodation is done. He has promised to do his best to see that we got a coupé for our journey to Jo’burg and I am to go to see him personally on the morning of the 13th, when accomodation is allotted. We leave at 7.15 in the evening.

Yesterday I did some preliminary packing of boxes we shall leave in store here. Our Belgian friends, the Hoogevens, leave for the return journey to the Congo on Sunday, and they entertained us to a farewell tea. We are sorry to say good-bye to them, for they are nice friendly creatures. It is not likely we shall see them again, unless the final journey to England is made by plane, when its usual to spend a night in Elizabethville. The final farewells were a knock-out for us, in the matter of flowery sentiments. As a nation we are not good at such compliments, even when we truly feel the emotions. The party at the Hoogeveens, was followed by a sherry party at Eileen Forsyth’s, where I discovered that a woman I have met there before, an evacuee from Cyprus, is a keen mountaineer, and that her husband was a runner-up for one of the Everest Expeditions. We got well into the mountains, while Herbert and a S.A. Navy man, were deep in erosion. Its a pity they did not meet sooner, for this man is anxious to put Herbert in touch with the editor of “The Forum”, one of S.A.’s Reviews, who is specially interested in that subject, which is, indeed a very grave one for Africa. The result of all this was that we were back very late for dinner.

We have more good-bye parties next week. Its amusing how everyone gets down to the job of entertaining when word goes round that one is leaving shortly.

Mrs Smuts has put me in touch with a certain Mr Harry Currey, who is a cousin of that Norman Currey, a relative of ours who came from S.A. when I was still a flapper, and was in the British Navy. We are going to tea with Mr Currey to-morrow, but I doubt whether we shall be able to disentangle any relationship. I have an idea that Bernard Currey found Norman to be a third cousin of ours. If so, this man is probably the same.

Herbert has been progressing this week, I think. He looks distinctly better. He will be getting his new teeth shortly, which will help the general morale. Yesterday he got the information that the Secretary of State has granted him permission to retire, with the two years leave on half pay preparatory to doing so. That means that we shall be on half-pay leave till Nov 1944, which was what we wanted. We did not doubt that the permission would be given, but its nice to have it settled.

The weather has been variable, with some beautiful sunny days, and some cloudy, with showers. We have had no time for mountainside walks, - - No! That is not so! We went for a lovely one on Saturday afternoon. It was a lovely day and perfect for walking. What a difference it makes when it is not hot! Since then, we have just had the ordinary quick walks, either towards Cape Town, or away from it, along the front.

Letters will be a bit erratic for the next week or two, while we are travelling about. We arrive in Pretoria next Saturday. Judy magill wrote that Edward will come to meet us at the station. I have begged him not too, for we arrive at 6.48 a.m., and, since he does not lecture on Saturddays, I think it will be nicer and more helpful to us if he comes to see us after breakfast. Its nice of them even to have thought of coming to meet us at that hour.

Best love to you all.
LJT

(handwritten addition at end of letter) My darling Annette

These are only a few lines of greeting. There is not time for a proper letter to-day. Its good of you to send the pink frock on to Aunt – I hope it fits her – nowhere can I get stocking mending! It has disappeared completely from Cape Town – Luckily I had a fair amount for my own use –

I’ve been reading a extremely interesting book by Rom Landan, called “God is my Adventur”" It is a series of sketches of modern religious leaders and philosophers – Count Keyserling – Rudolf Steiner – Krishnamurti – Principal Jefferies – Buchman (whom he does not like at all) and a few others. One thing I shall be sorry to leave in Sea Point is the excellent library.

At Christmas time I bought a second hand copy of a book that was strongly recommended to me, as giving a good picture of Africa – I thought it poor so took it back to the shop on Thursday morning, and they allowed me 5/- on it (I paid 7/6). I had great fun mooning about the shelves – The shop has a big upper floor full of second hand books – There was no attendent up there – Seemed very trusting to me – Eventually I got a book by Gerald Heard called “Social Bases of Religion” – Edward Groth is very keen on later books by Heard. He promises to lend me “Sex, Time and Pain” – and a still later one “Man the Master” – so I thought this would be a good preparation.

Dad is really looking stronger these last few days. He has lost the droop to the shoulders which made him look so worn out – The chiropractor has given him a lot of good advice – He is to be cheerful – look on the bright side of things – try to think and speak well of other people – in fact, as he says “be a little ray of sunshine.” –

There’s a lot in it all the same!

Best love - Mother

Romey, it has been lovely to get so many letters and the snapshots from you. I am referring to Nos. 94 and 95 and Nos. 101 and 102 --- the latter written just before the main exams and after the Botany and Zoology Labs. We are awfully pleased that you did so well in the latter. You must have been pretty tired when it was all over.

We enjoyed the story of how you and a friend walked and walked on the morning after the blizzard, trying to get out to the University when the buses were not running, and at last arrived to find that lectures had been cancelled. It can’t have been so funny for you though.

I am glad you still correspond with Norman Augell. It is stimulating to know interesting people ----one of the greatest joys in life, I think.

Best love, my darling,
From Mother

Air Graph No 10 from LJT to Romey

Standard Bank of S.Africa. Cape Town   May 8th 1943 

My darling Romey.  Thank you for Nos 94 of 31/1 rcd 4/5; 95 of 7/2 rcd 30/4 & 101, 102, personal letter & snap shots, posted by A.M. posted on 6/4, rcd 1/5.  We are feeling so thrilled about your finals, & delighted at splendid results of Zoo Lab Exam.  We are hoping for a cable soon.  Hope the early morning fall downstairs has left no ill effects on your spine.  If you have any hint of trouble there, go quickly to a chiro-practor.  Wish I could have heard your speech toast-to-the Faculty!  Its an excellent thing to get used to having to speak in public.  Baroness Giskra writing from 350 Lymace Ave. Winter Park. Florida, says she wishes she could get up to Canada to see you.  It would be lovely if you go to the S. States & could spend a holiday with her & Mary Ow.  I think you would love them, just as we do.  As soon as I hear where you are going I will set some of my American friends to see if they can give you introductions.  We are so looking forward to seeing Judy & Edward a week to-day.  Judy wrote that Ed would meet us at the station, but as we arrive at 6.49 a.m. we have begged him not to do so, but to come round after breakfast.  He will be free as he does not lecture on Saturdays.  Judy is at her job till 12.30.  They will spend the afternoon with us, & we are to tea with them on Sun.  It will be fun!  I shall have to hurry off an Air Graph to give Susie news of them.  It was wonderful to wake this morning to the news that Tunis & Biserta had fallen.  I would like to have heard all the church bells ringing.  The storm that I wrote of in my last A-G blew in the late autumn.  Since then it has been like English October.  We are definitely in woolens & would like fires in the evenings in the days too when the sun does not shine.  As so often happens, news of departure, eggs people on to give farewells, & we have been out almost every day.  I stopped work in the office on Tuesday.  Lady Graaff gave a farewell luncheon for me at Cape Town’s premier restaurent on Monday.  It was a nice thought.  I just managed to finish the clean-out of the card index before Tuesday afternoon.  I was glad to leave the job I initiated nicely rounded off.  Fancy the Xmas presents from India taking so long to reach you.  I still have hopes of mine from you arriving.  I feel so distressed that I did not send some personal things to Susie & Helen.  I suppose it was chiefly that I just had no time to go & hunt.  The last few days I have been busy with mendings, packings, sorting papers & generally preparing for our flit.  Dad has just heard that the Secretary of State agrees to allow him to resign, following two years on half pay leave which are due to him.  That will carry him on till Nov 1944.  Its nice to have these points definitely settled.  He is looking a great deal better.  He is having three final treatments from the chiropractor, and should get his new teeth on Tues. or Wed.  That will be a great help to his general morale.  I do hope the next few months give him a real improvement in health.  If he could feel the energy to start writing something, I think he would benefit.  He gets so depressed by the thought that he is useless.  Of course his job at the moment is getting well again.  I hope you are having a good holiday after your Finals.  We have written to India about the 1944 allowance.  Best love


Family letter from HPV

c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
May 8th 1943. (Saturday)

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

Not far away is a house which might well have come out of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Its garden is full of the most improbable china animals; to wit, full-size setters two, fox-terriers of which one has two pups two again but seated improbably on pedestals, a frog two feet high and another of some five inches, sundry birds of species unknown, a gnome two feet high opposite the frog, and a naked baby rather bigger, various rabbits and (best of all) half a dozen coloured toadstools. All in plain view, but they escaped my eye till a day or two ago and Joan’s also. But is to be remembered that in Gibraltar in our early days all drawing rooms were ornamented with china snails, toads, lizards and (surely?) centipedes on the walls. In Montreux they have china cats pursuing china rats along the gutters on the roofs; and in Ste. Maxime they had numerous such cats on the roof-tops, very life-like.

I have not told how the attempt of the chiropodist to extract six guinea from me by prophesying evil in the near future in the way of painful corns and bunions has unexpectedly led me to reform my way of walking. Determined to refrain from having hard skin on the side of my big toes I have set myself to walk with my feet perfectly straight, perfectly parallel, and the adverb is chosen deliberately to show how great the effort is. Also following the precepts of Ismail when he massaged me I make attempts to crack my toes after my bath; on occasional mornings I have succeeded in cracking four toes on each foot, but lately there has been a setback and only one (little) toe has responded to what might be described poetically as the milking process. A further safeguard against the disasters threatened is to rub the feet vigorously with the pumice as often as I think of it. Not to mention exercises daily, twice; on-the-toes-rise with the heels turned out so as to make the little ones take the strain. Very salutary. All the family would be well advised to follow suit.

All this leads me to tell of further dealings with the cheiropractor. I forget what was the last bit of advice repeated in my letters; but there is no harm in saying again that he has been expounding the beauty of standing and sitting and lying with the spine straight. Exercise 1100 in an extended form. By no means stand with the weight on one leg, or lie with the head on one hand, or sit with the legs crossed. There is now no comfort left in life for me – or for Joan for that matter, since she has enthusiastically adopted the precepts, saying that they are merely what has been her preaching to me for years past. Add to all these that the chin must be kept in, which is what the beauty culturists say; it keeps the top part of the back in and so helps to flatten the back. But there is a better thing. If you have indigestion, the sovereign cure is to take a wire brush, as used for cleaning suede shoes, and stroke the backs of the hands gently from the tips of the fingers upwards and the sides of the fingers too in the same manner; and you may also run the brush up as far as the elbow; always so gently that the skin is not scratched or irritated. Part of the new and little known science of regional therapy. “See for yourself how well it works!” says Mr. Stobie; and it is merely my general perversity that makes it appear not to work at all.

It would certainly help if I had a little more faith in such things. He recommends the adoption of deliberate cheerfulness as a help to cure neurasthenia, and the practice of smiling as a means towards this. In which he is probably in the right; but I am put off by a vision of the sickly grins of the Rotarians and the forced geniality of Salvationists. None the less following the example of no less than Naaman I shall probably have a shot at this repugnant cure. It ought not to be difficult really, whereas the family know how I have been a little ray of sunshine for years and years, following Alice’s suggestions. The time to practice smiling is obviously while I am shaving; the glass will reveal how far I succeed. Such things are actually done, apparently, though it is not perhaps likely that I shall do them.

Hearing that I had a slight sore throat last time I went to him, the cheiropractor gave my neck a genial twist and said that I’d find the throat better and maybe this was so; but that same evening I had a streaming cold in the nose and so it looks as if the twist had not worked precisely as intended. (handwritten in margin ‘anyhow, a running cold.)

A book called the Voyage of the Cap Pilar (quite interesting in a sort of a way) mentions, as an illustration that the most improbable things can happen, “After all Lobengula suckled thirty three of his children.” A thing worth knowing. It should have happened before Wanley wrote his Wonders of a Little World. Of which there is a copy at Highways, given to us by Bernard; and I hope that it has not been sacrificed to the war-effort as surplus paper. In a book by E.V.Lucas there are three or four pages on passages in Browning that are based directly on Wanley. As about the Pope who cut the hands off his predecessor and threw then into the Tiber; and about his being visited by a great black dog invisible to others. In the Ring and the Book. On which subject we design to write direct to Bernard. Item. the Rhodesians here when asked deny that Lobengula is said to have done any such thing; but add that his bosom was such as to have given him hopes if he had ever thought of trying it. Wherein he must have been like Italians at the Lido, as pictured in the Sketch. Out upon you all for wanting ever to go to that country!

As to shaving there is one here who has a passion for contraptions for sharpening razor blades; Mr. Cross of the Tanganyika C.S. Under his guidance I bought a bone with a curve in it; intended to work like a glass when used as a sharpener. It reminded me to tell the truth of that glass contraption bought by me as a gift for a brother, handed by him to Parp and handed by Parp to me only to be passed back by me to the original recipient. One of the best-meant and most futile of gifts. Whether the bone-thing works I hesitate to say. I tested it on an old blade rejected as useless nearly a year ago after two days’ use; and this may have been unfair. It had rusted a bit.

Among the minor triumphs include the winding of a ball of wool so that it unwinds from the centre, a thing often done, and simultaneously from the outside, which is unusual. The use of this is that when Joan knits two sleeves simultaneously she uses the one ball of wool. And I must add that she has at this very moment condemned the practice as a great nuisance.

Incidentally I am must pleased by a letter quoted in the Lucas book from one of H.G.Wells’ sons when small to his brother small also “Dear Peter, As I am in great pain after my operation, I think that you ought to buy me a present, Your loving brother, etc.”

Joan advanced to help Mrs Eardly Mare move a bench thing in the hall and sizing one arm said “Lift”: and as they both lifted both arms came off the object. As if they had been drilled to do it. I was much delighted. Anyone who breaks anything in this hotel feels that he is getting some of his money back. They fell on such evil days owing to lodgers leaving that they had to advertise; and they have filled up again. But the shame of it in these days when all hotels turn away numbers of guests!

And here I am with my letter finished and no news given of my goings and comings of the week. Two visits to the dentist; he has now a book of jokes (called yokes by monsieur Hoogenveen) and anecdotes published over the last 50 years or so in Tit-Bits. Two to the cheiropractor. Many errands in the town. Certain walks. On the whole I have been tired. But Stobie today asserted that physically I was doing fine and might look on myself as fit; my tiredness he declares to be neurasthenic. Which would be more convincing if it was not toward the end of his ministrations; if he gave any other verdict he would have to admit that they had not worked. However I daresay that he is right more or less.

(handwritten addition at end of letter) That I do not comment on your letter, of March 24th, (otherwise than to remark, with reference to a previous one, thank you for thinking of me on my birthday) is due not to lack of appreciation but to the time lag: you will have forgotten what you said. I deplore your silence as regards the making of compost: did you make it? were there snags? if made, did it seem good.

Farewell and much love
Dad

Airgraph from LJT to Annette (addressed to Miss Annette Townend. PO Box. 222. S.W.70. Howick Place. London. S.W.1. England)

No 10 May 10th 1943

My darling Annette. Thank you for your No 5 of 24/3 rcd on 3/5. V.glad to hear that the first food parcel & the one with the pink dress etc, have arrived. Hope the dress will be useful to Aunt. Fancy the old zig-zag stripe stuff coming in useful again! Of course our hearts & minds are full of the victory in Tunisia. Its satisfactory that the Germans should be tasting something of what they have given to other people. I thought of the church bells ringing in England yesterday & felt more home-sick than ever. Dad has at last had the formal permission of the Sec. of State to retire. He will be on half-pay leave till Nov 1944, & will go on the retired list then. He is getting stronger. The chiro-practor says his back is in fine condition. I hope its true, but as it’s a verdict on his own work, I feel the opinion must be taken with a grain of salt. He has just gone off for his last session with the dentist, & will, I hope, come home equipped with his new plate & extra teeth. That will be a great boon after so many weeks of eating with difficulty. The change of scene & the bracing air of Jo’burg will perhaps give him a good push forward on the road to health. My work in the office finished on Tuesday. Lady Graaf & the staff gave me a farewell lunch at the Café Royal, Cape Town’s premier restaurent, on Monday. My work has been a pleasant experience. Through Mrs Smuts, one of my co-workers, I was put in touch with one, The Hon. Mr H.L. curry, who is, as I suspected he might be, a relation. We went to tea with him yesterday, & he is a perfect dear. He is a 1st cousin of Norman Currey’s father. He knew our old cousin, Admiral Bernard Currey well. He had lots in common with Dad too, for he was at Kings School, which he left in 1875, or something of the sort, when he was 16. He does not seem more than 68 or 70 now. He was private secretary to Rhodes for many years, but had to give it up when he married. Later he went into politics, & was minister without portfolio not so many years ago. Also he knew Mr Tritton well & had a letter from Mrs Tritton not so very long ago. We have had quite a gay week, for hearing that we are about to leave C.T. all the people we have met have been giving us farewell parties. We should soon have a very nice & interesting circle of friends, especially if we lived in the Eastern suburbs served by the electric trains, for all the better class residents seem to live out there. This place is full of Jews & summer visitors, though it has many good points for a temporary stay, chiefly the walks on the mountain side. We have only had time for one this week, & I fear we shant have opportunity for another. I shall be interested to hear your plans for a holiday in the Lakes. We found Grassmere a good centre. Mr Cape has a pet hotel there where we stayed. I cant remember its name. If you want any advice, Maj. Odell c/o Clare College, Cambridge, would, I know be delighted to help you. Aunt may know his present address. There should be an inch map of the Grassmere Dist. At home. Ed. Magill nobly offered to meet us at the station next Sat but as the train gets in at 6.49 a.m. we have begged him to come to see us after breakfast instead. It will be v. Interesting meeting him & Judy. Best love. Hope the allotment flourishes. Mother.


Family letter from LJT No 19

(Standard heading of ‘From Mrs H.P.V. Townend, c/o Standard Bank of S. Africa. Cape Town. on this letter as on all other family letters)

“Casa Mia”
Soper Rd.
Johannesburg.
May 16th 1943

My Dears,

It seems to me much more improbable to be in Jo’burg, than it did to be in Cape Town. Cape Town is, after all, a port, & anyone might find themselves there, but its a long way from the sea to Jo’burg, and there is something fantastic about the city itself. From our windows in this most comfortable & well run Private Hotel, we look across the valley in which the main part of the city lies, to the great white spoil banks on the slopes of the famous reef. There is more city beyond, and stretching away all round. All this! And its only a few years older than I am. The heart of the city has gone in for sky-scrapers, which give it a New Yorkish look, but further out, interspersed with high blocks of modern flats, many of the houses are bungalows standing in their own gardens. The roads are wide and planted with lines of trees, in some cases two lines of trees. The whole place is so much prettier than I expected. For some reason I thought it was flat, but it is hilly, rolling hills, and it has so many trees, & such clear bright air. Even the great spoil banks from the mines, though one cant call them beautiful, give a not unpleasant character to the city. Being white, and usually seen in bright sunlight, they have not got the sordid dismal look of the spoil banks from coal mines. Its startling to look out at the brilliant sparkling lights at night. I kept on going to have another look last evening. After two or three years in blacked-out cities, it seems almost wrong to see such a blaze of light. It would seem even more extraordinary to those of you in England who have lived under such desperately strict black-out conditions.

We left Cape Town in the rain. Sea Point did not look cheerful. Rain curtained the sea. Clouds sat low down on the mountains. The roads and pavements were full of puddles & Graham Lodge, full of draughts. Our train left at 7.15 p.m. & we had dinner beforehand at the station. We were in a coupé and quite comfortable, though there are things about the trains I dont like. The sliding door between the carriage and the corridor, has a mirror in it instead of clear glass, so that if one has the door open, one cant see out of the window. Anyhow the view is limited. Added to this, each window has a ground glass medallion of a springbok in the centre of each pane, and the three inch diameter circle plasters itself in the middle of the view. The other complaint is that the meals are bad, badly cooked, & cold when they are intended to be hot. In spite of these things I enjoyed the journey. I don’t think Herbert minded it. His pleasure in life is somewhat dimmed at the moment by his new dentures, which look a splendid piece of work, but which irk him rather still. Unfortunately the finest scenery is during the first few hours out of Cape Town, especially through the Hex River Valley, and that we passed in darkness. I suppose we were well out on the Great Karoo by the time we woke in the morning. We were crossing an undulating plain of grey sand and stones, sprinkled with small bushy grey-leaved plants about a foot or eighteen inches high, with occasional thorn bushes to vary the scene a little. In all directions the horizon was etched by mountains, blue-black in the shadow; rosy in the dawn light on them. It was a surprise to see at one of the little stations at which we stopped that we had already risen to over 4,600 ft. These tiny stations were few and far between in the empty landscape. There is not much to them. The pattern does not vary much. There is the station building, a store, perhaps a village school, a few houses, seldom more than two or three, and a pathetic little grave yard, just a few graves, piled over with stones and marked with a cross, and a few strands of wire fencing them from the open veldt. This pattern of country continued all day, with minor variations. Sometimes the plain was quite flat; sometimes it undulated considerably. Sometimes the earth and stones were grey, almost black; sometimes they were tawny or pale yellow. Sometimes the mountains were close and sometimes far away. The vegetation altered as the day wore on, but there was never any grass. The sheep like the little grey shrub and do well on it. Now and again we saw some about, but I think they must run very few to the acre. The only trees we saw till we got near Jo’burg were planted round houses or reservoirs. These were all exotics, gums from Australia, Lombardy poplars, willows (or something that looked like them) and the pointed cypress of southern Europe, varied with scraggy firs. In one or two places where a river bed graced with some pools of water, showed that the country was not entirely dependent on wind mills working pumps for every drop of moisture, there were some low-growing thorn trees. A few towns exist in this sparsely populated country, and we felt quite excited when, during the morning we came to Beaufort West. Here was a real “township” or dorp. Houses arranged themselves in streets. The station buildings were quite extensive with goods sheds and shunting yard. A two-storied Hotel fronted the station, and a little behind a church carried a rococo steeple, which had showed up for a long way across the veldt. Beyond the town was a reservoir like a small lake, with a thick tangle of thorn trees near its margin. This little town is a centre of the sheep-growing country. In its neighbourhood we could see a number of considerable homesteads, with wind-engine pumps, not only near the house, but dotted over the landscape, pumping up water for the stock, we suppose. Some hours later we came to De Aar less of a town, but a much bigger railway junction. Here a line comes in from Fort Elizabeth and another goes off to West Africa and Walvis Bay. The country we had come through had not seemed very full, but judging from the map the area through which the line runs to Walvis Bay, is almost empty.

Late in the afternoon we came to the only river of running water we saw all day. It was the famous Orange River, flowing in a wide stream neatly between scrub-covered banks. All the way up I had constantly thought of the Commandos of the Boer War fighting over this country. The Orange River figured much in the tactics of those days, if I remember. After dinner, we came to Kimberly, where we had twenty minutes wait and time to walk a number of times up and down the long platform. We could see nothing of the town in the darkness. After we were going again, the guard brought Romey’s cable telling us that she has got her B. Sc to the carriage. Edward Magill had most kindly thought of wiring it on. The mountains which rise to considerable heights above the already lofty plateau, conform roughly to three patterns. There are the spiky topped ones, with steep rocky sides; the long steep ridges sometimes rising fifteen hundred feet or more above the plain, girt about with what look exactly like ramparts constructed by human beings, a few hundred feet below the summit; and there are the strange flat topped mountains, so typical of the African scene. Of course there are the variants of these. I saw some that might have been pyramids and others that were crowned with granite knobs, like our friend the Lion’s Head behind Sea Point.

The next morning the country had changed somewhat. It was rolling uplands, covered for the most part with coarse brownish grass, but still there were no trees till we came to Krugersdorp, where pine woods have been planted. Here we caught our first sight of mines. The white spoil dumps were turned a loely pink by the sunrise. The approach by rail to Jo’burg does not give much of a view of the city, since it is along the valley. We should have been almost to time had not some derailment (or so we think) caused us to be held up for nearly three quarters of an hour out side the station. I had told Edward Magill not to meet us, but never thought of Dot Bromley being there as she was. She says she recognized me at once from my likeness to Puff. Of course she has grown elderly, but in essentials she is just the same Dot. She drove me and our many smaller packages to the hotel at 8 a.m. instead of 7 as we expected to do. Directly after breakfast I was called to the Phone. A voice with a distinctly trans-Atlantic flavor, said “Hello”. I replied “is that Edward?” thinking Edward Magill had rung up to see whether we had arrived. “Yes” came the answer, and the voice continued in rich Yankee, to enquire about the journey and Herbert’s health and so on. It was only after quite a couple of minutes that I realized that it was Edward Groth speaking from Pretoria! I felt pretty silly! Edward Magill turned up quite soon, and we sat chatting most of the morning. It was such a pleasure meeting him. He answered all sorts of questions about Winnipeg, and told us lots of things about Jo’burg. His wife, Judy, has been very clever to get us such nice rooms. This a huge Residential Hotel, mostly occupied by “permanents”. Our bed-room and a charming sitting room are just vacant for a week while the permanent residents are away. Judy was at work, so could not come to see us till the afternoon, when they both came for tea and lots more talk. Judy is a South African, and has never been to Canada, or met her in-laws, so we were able to back up Edward’s assertion that his mother and sister are very nice people!

I forsook Herbert for lunch and went down to the YWCA and had it with Dot. We talked much, looked at old photos, and exchanged all sorts of news. The kind creature has saved up petrol, so that she will be able to take us for a drive or two. We are probably going to take a picnic lunch out on Thursday. Ed. has arranged with one of the other Canadian cousins, Harvey Jones, for us to be taken over a gold mine on Tuesday. Several other engagements have cropped up, so that our week here will be none too long. The weather is lovely. It is cold in the mornings and the evenings, and indoors if one has no fire or heater, but gorgeous in the sun. We are in luck for we have a fireplace and can have fires when we want. Added to this Ed and Judy have lent us an electric heater, so we are not suffering any inconvenience from the cold, as Herbert feared we might.

We set out this morning intending to walk half or three quarters of a mile to a place where it appeared that we could get a tram to the Zoo. Our Guide-map was an old one, and that service no longer functions, so we walked on along a fine boulevard, past biggish houses standing in large gardens, to the tram route which does go to the Zoo. By the time we got there, we felt we should have walked quite far enough by the time we got home again, so decided to abandon our first plan, & just return home on foot by another route. It was an enjoyable outing, although we did not achieve our first objective.

Ed and Judy had arranged a tea-party for us to meet some of their friends in the afternoon, & we enjoyed it very much. One of the guests was a Professor Sutton, who is keen on irrigation, so he & Herbert had much in common. I was glad to find myself next to an elderly woman, who came here from England about the time of the Boer War, and who told me much about the development and changing conditions of Jo’burg. The Magills have a charming little flat, high up, with a splendid view over the city. They have a beautiful Pekinese, who gave us a great welcome, & finally hurled herself into Herbert’s lap and buried her face in his stomach.

Before the memory is blotted out by fresh impressions, I must jump back in time and tell how we went to tea with a distant Currey cousin of mine on our last Sunday in Cape Town. Mrs Smuts of the S.A.W.A.S. office put us in touch. The Hon Mr Harry Currey’s father came to S. Africa as quite a boy. We dont know exactly what our relation-ship is, but when Bernard Currey was in S.A. many long years ago, he became very friendly with the African branch, and as he was the great keeper-of-the-family-tree he established just where we all fitted in. I should have taken Mr. Currey to be about seventy, but he is eighty-three or eighty-four, still brisk, slim, upright and very much alive mentally. He was private secretary to Rhodes for many years, but had to give it up when he married. Later he was a good deal in the political world, and was a Minister at one time. He is a charming person, and I am sorry we only discovered him such a short time before we were leaving Cape Town. Some of the home people may be interested to know that he is a first cousin of Norman Currey’s father, and that he still corresponds with Norman’s mother and sister, who have been living at Waterlooville for many years, and were evacuated to the Lake District.

I was out all day on the Monday, for we met Mrs Gordon for morning tea and sat talking with her till past twelve. Herbert went home & I lunched with a friend from Calcutta, and caught a train immediately afterwards to Kenilworth, where Mrs Harvey met me at the station with a car and took me to Groot Constantia, which we visited a few weeks ago with Mrs Iron. The vineyards were looking very lovely with the autumn colouring on the leaves. My enjoyment was somewhat marred by a violent cold in the head which came on quite suddenly at lunch time, and which also inconvenienced me not a little on the subsequent days while I was packing. I was sorry to say good-bye to the Harveys, who have been so kind to us.

Looking back over the earlier part of this letter I see I have made the most appalling number of mistakes. I think it is because I have been trying to type fast. I’m sorry!

A remark I should have made earlier, is that the only country I have previously seen which is at all like that we came through on the journey here, is the great plains of Tibet. The resemblance is quite marked, but from the Tibetan plains so many of the mountains are snow-capped.

The glow of pleasure from the Tunisian Victory has been with us all this week and helped to make it memorable. The news of Romey’s success has been another item in distinguishing it.

Best love to you all,
LJT


Family letter from HPV

c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
Johannesburg. May 16th 1943. Sunday.

My Dear Annette

You may say of this place as Kim said of Lucknow “A fine city!” Most impressive, set out on its hills in an atmosphere of the cleanest. At night the twinkling of its lights on the slopes in the distance are of a beauty not to be surpassed. We debate why they should twinkle and know no answer.

I liked Cape Town, but was glad to get away from it. My having been seedy there prejudiced me against it: as did the hotel where we stayed, though the rooms were pleasant in which we stayed. Out of the memories of our visit there will stand forth the slimy furtiveness of the proprietor as he argued that he was entitled to charge us for two more days than our actual stay: I did not pay the overcharge. Interesting how he went out of his way at all times to make it unlikely that anyone would come back there or recommend anyone else to it.

On my last morning when it rained without ceasing I packed and then carried down an assortment of old papers, bottles tins and the like to the Anti-Waste depot, besides returning books to the Library and recovering my deposit. It strikes me that I have seriously upset the statistics of the Library by reading some two books a day and sometimes more, and that there will have to be a special paragraph in the annual report to explain why the average number of books per head went up in the first quarter of the year. It was on the day before that that I paid my last visit to the cheiropractor, who remarked that it was just as well that I was leaving because if I came any more he would not be able to find much more to do to my back, for a replica of which he would give 100 guineas if he could swap it with his own. It is to his grief that he thinks poorly of the other cheiropractors in Cape Town (they are heretics so to say, believing that all things can be cured merely by manipulating the vertebrae in the neck instead of the vertebrae in the whole spine) and so he has not been able to get his own spine treated.

He insists on the importance of laughing every day, and laughing quite a lot. The best of medicines, both because the vibrations do the body good and because the drawing of the lips tight across the teeth braces certain nerves and so causes wrinkles to disappear and hollow cheeks to fill in. He told me to have a shot at this; but it beats me. Also he gave me a major setback. He mentioned that he was treating a woman from Java for fallen arches; and naturally I told him how the chiropodist had attempted to impose on me. Then I showed him one of my feet and he said that the man was quite right and that I had arches which quite definitely needed treatment. But the treatment was merely rising on the toes twice a day; and I have been doing these exercises ever since the chiropodist incident. None the less the verdict was a bit daunting. I am suffering from a sad multiplicity . . . of evils, disasters, woes . . . I do not know quite what.

I read the Life of George Borrow. He advocated that the New Testament only should be distributed in Spain (at least till the inhabitants became Christianized) because “the Old Testament is so infinitely entertaining to the carnal man” and the New Testament in consequence would be little read. He should have written advertisements.

The Dutch are advised in the lavatories on the Railway to assemble their clothes before leaving. Pretty phrasing. But the words may not mean what they appeared to mean. I like Dutch expressions, as pronounced by me; what nicer than “a duck-weg” for a subway? Weg means road, and is not pronounced like that, as I learnt in Java. Which reminds me that I have not pursued my Malayan of late.

It is cold up here. I have not got suitable costumes. Thick suits would be pleasant; but I gave my last to Gage when he was leaving for England after escaping from Burma. There is a mystery about some flannel shirts which Joan put out for me to pack for this trip and which I never saw: they would be welcome instead of the cotton which I have to wear when I wish to look respectable. Probably they went into the White River trunk. I have two flannel shirts cut with collar like tennis shirts. Formerly a light blue, very handsome, they had faded with exposure to the sun in the mountains of New Zealand and had become stained on the back where the hold-alls rested on them. Joan had them dyed dark blue in Calcutta. They look almost black, and in her opinion sit well on me. But alas! the dye is coming out onto my vests when I sweat as in the sun I do; and anyhow I can’t wear them in the evenings. It is a sad feature of our going to stay at a Consul’s that I have had to carry dress things with me this trip; I am not expecting to use them really and they promise merely to be an encumbrance.
Handwritten addition at end of letter I had forgotten that I could not type on both sides of this paper as I do on that which ordinarily I use: and so I made no attempt to make this compact. But the things omitted will certainly appear in your mother’s letter. She has a cold that hangs on but is full of vigour. It was a disappointment to me yesterday that suddenly at Edward Magill’s I became exhausted. It was at 6 o’clock and we had gone at 3.30: but even so it was absurd that I shoud have been so tired. On the whole I am fit enough.

Much love
Dad

(handwritten addition at end of letter to Romey) Forgetting that I could not type on the back of this thin paper, I have vaulted on and have not given any news. But, as Joan is writing at great length, you will probably miss nothing.

Much love,
Dad

Air Graph No 11 from LJT to Romey

Standard Bank of S. Africa.  Cape Town.   May 16th 1943. 

Congratulations, Romey darling!  Dad & I are delighted at your news.  Ed. Wired the cable on to us, so that we got it on the train at Kimberley on Fri. 14th, so that we were still in time to think of you graduating that day.  Now we long for details & future plans.  Your letters Nos 95, 96, & 99, with some most interesting details about the work done at Jackson, reached us the day we left Cape Town.  I hope you manage to go there, and can manage on the money that you are getting at present.  If that is going to be difficult, we might have a shot at getting permission to increase your allowance.  The best way of doing that would be to get Professor Wardle to write us a letter, saying that he thinks the training valuable to the war effort, & suggesting that we increase your allowance in order to allow you to carry it out.  We should have to send that to the Reserve Bank of India, & they might perhaps let us send another hundred pounds.  Its all very thrilling!  It was somehow specially nice getting the news just as we met Ed & Judy.  They are both such dears.  Ed is a bit like Helen & evidently very devoted to her.  He came round here (Casa Mia) soon after breakfast yesterday, & we sat talking most of the morning.  Judy was at work, so could not come till the afternoon, when they joined us here for tea & we had another long talk.  Judy is medium size, very nice looking, with big dark eyes.  She is vivacious & intelligent.  Edward answered lots of my questions about Winnipeg, & I read him bits out of your letters that had to do with his family or with the city.  He says he is glad he came to S.A. & is very happy here.  He & Judy are having a tea-party for us this afternoon.  We have not seen either Harvey or Carleton Jones yet, but they are arranging for us to go over a gold mine on Tuesday.  It was raining & cold on the day we left C.T.  The journey was comfortable we should have arrived fairly well to time, but a derailment or something, kept us outside Jo’burg Station for three quarters of an hour.  It made me extra glad that I had told Ed. Not to meet us.  To my great surprise, an old friend Pat Bromley was on the platform.  She knew me at once from my likeness to Auntie Puff, though she had not seen me since I was a school girl.  At lunch time I forsook Dad & went to have a meal with her at the Y.W.C.A.  Jo’burg is a much more attractive place than I expected.  It is hilly, & even the great white spoil heaps, give it a certain character.  Being white, and usually seen in bright sunshine they have none of the drab look of spoil dumps in coal country.  Just as we had finished breakfast yesterday I was called to the phone, & heard an American voice saying “Hello”.  I said “Is that Edward?”  Wondering why he sounded so Yankee.  “Yes” came the answer, & then questions about the journey & health etc, & only then did it dawn on me that it was Edward Groth talking from Pretoria!  It was so absurd!  Dad has got his new teeth.  They look lovely, but he finds them uncomfortable still.  They are only the back ones you know.  All his front ones are alright.  Tell Susie & Helen we all send love.  Ears ought to have been burning in Winnipeg yesterday, judging by all the talk that was going on here about the inhabitants of “197”.  Best love.   (Mrs Townend)

Air Graph No 10 from LJT to Aunt (GCT)

South Africa. Cape Town.     May 18th  1943

Dearest Grace, Our journey to Jo’burg was interesting & comfortable, & we are most comfortably housed here.  Dot Bromley met us at the station, in spite of the early hour.  She recognized me at once from my likeness to Puff.  She is a dear person & I am so much enjoying a good deal of her company.  We had told Edward Magill not to come to meet us.  He came round after breakfast & we sat talking most of the morning.  He is like Helen to look at, has scarcely any Canadian accent, and is very nice.  His wife, Judy, is doing a job & could not come to see us till the afternoon, when they came round for tea, & more talk.  It was nice being able to get all sorts of points about Winnipeg & the University cleared up.  He is also interesting about his country.  Jo’burg is a wonderful city, much more attractive in every way than we expected.  Up to the present my impression is that I prefer it to Cape Town.  Once more we have had great luck.  We have a bedroom & a nice sitting room, with fire-places, & it is quite routine to have fires.  The Magills have also lent us an electric heater, so we have not been at all bothered with the cold.  It was raw & raining when we left C.T.  Here there is light frost at night, but brilliant sunshine all day, & the temperature is perfect, to my mind.  I have to be careful not to involve H. in too many activities, as he still tires easily & cant be on the go all day.  We are to go over a gold mine on Thurs.  To-day Ed has a day off, & is coming this morning to take us a tour of the town & suburbs in his little car.  This afternoon we hope we are meeting Carlton and Harvey Jones, who are second cousins of H’s.  Before leaving C.T. I was put in touch with the Hon Mr H.L. Currey, who is some sort of a cousin of ours.  He knew Bernard Currey well, & is a 1st cousin of  Norman Currey’s father.  He was Rhodes’ private Secty.  His age is about 84, but he does not seem more than seventy, & brisk for that.  He is an old pet & I am sorry that we did not get in touch with him earlier.  Ed Magill forwarded romey’s cable telling that she has got her B.Sc to us & it was handed to us on the train just after we left Kimberley.  It is satisfactory that she has done so well in Canada.  I hope she is able to carry out the plan of going to Jackson. U.S.A.  No letters have come from you for some time, but we got a nice air-graph from Peg on 13/5 which was written on 19/4 & gave news of you all as well as of Joey & family.  The joy of the Tunisian victory is still with us & now we get the splendid news of the smashing of the dams in the Ruhr.  Its odd to think of the millions of people all over the world, wondering, “What next/”.  Edward Groth has phoned me twice from Pretoria & makes us feel he has got a warm welcome for us.  It was nice to hear his deep Yankee drawl again.  H. has got his new teeth, but they still irk him rather, but I suppose all plates, however beautifully made, take some getting used to.  Most of the journey here was through great upland plains bordered by mts, not unlike the plains of Tibet.

Best love to all & thanks to Peg.  Dot sends love.


Family letter from LJT No 20

“Elangeli”
Pretoria.
May 23rd 1943.

My Dears,

This is one of the weeks when there is so much to tell that it is difficult to know where to make a start. We did many things, saw a lot of people and enjoyed ourselves much during our week in Jo’burg. No doubt the thing that will stand out in our memories is the morning spent down a gold mine, so I shall tell you about that straight away. Cousin Harvey Jones asked us to be at the Chris shaft of “Robinson Deep” at 8:30 on Thursday morning. Edward Magill with great kindness took us along there in his little car. It was not far, for the town is close beside the gold mine.

The people at the mine showed us into changing rooms, and instructed us to remove our own clothes, and put on the shorts, shirts boiler-suits, long rubber boots and sou’westers provided for us. I was the only lady. There were three men besides Herbert, one of whom, a Major Hall, has been one of the electricians at that pit for many years, but had been away with the army for three years. He was a stout jovial fellow, with a good fat paunch, across which the overall would not button. This was a source of much fun, as he encountered many old friends during the morning.

The main part of the workers had already gone below ground, but some natives were putting on their socks and thick boots, arranging their tin hats, which look like large aluminium jelly moulds. It is apparently the thing to have as many patches as possible on your trousers, preferable of a different colour to the original material. As we were waiting at the top of the shaft for the cage, we noticed a man walking about swinging a thing that looked like an old-fashioned policeman’s rattle, with two thermometres in it. He also had a jim of some sort strapped to his chest. When we had seen him swinging this thing at different levels of the mine, I asked what he was doing. He was an inspector who goes round taking the temperature and humidity and the dust content of the air.

The cage or lift was a box of sheet iron, the four sides of which were perforated with holes about the size of a florin. We packed in, with many other people who wanted to go down, and the tight squeeze gave opportunity to the humourists to draw attention to Major Hall’s bow front. Dropping 4,500 ft was only a question of a few minutes, but the electrically controlled lifts are so well arranged that one is not conscious of any great speed in dropping, except that as one is slowing up before stopping, one feels as if one is going up.

The deep gold mines have numbers of different levels, for the gold bearing rock is in bands. The great corridors, ventilation fans, winding gear for going to lower levels, and so on, are all cut in the non-gold bearing rock between the seams, and the rock drilled and blasted by the miners, is shot down inclines into trucks on the corridor below. Mr Pretorius, who was taking us round, after telling us something about the working methods, when we emerged at the 42nd level, sent for “the Blue train”, a small passenger-carrying carriage pulled by a little electric engine, which carried us along lofty passages, hewed from the rock, white washed and well lighted with electric light. We saw a fire fighting post, a First Aid post, and then spent some time looking at the winding gears control room, of a shaft down to lower levels. Major Hall had installed it, and was made to take over and tell us about it. There were three sets of safety devices to make sure that the slightest fault is made apparent to “the Driver”, as they call the man at the controls, immediately. We had abandoned the train by this time, and walked a considerable distance. We went to see the huge fans that expel bad air and draw cold air constantly through the miles and miles of passages. Then we got into another cage and dropped a further 2,000 ft, arriving at a point below sea level. It had been intended to takes us down another 2,000 ft, arriving at a point below sea level. It had been intended to take us down another 2,000 ft to the lowest level of that mine, but the shaft was undergoing its weekly test, and could not be used. After this we walked a considerable distance into active workings. Here the passage was narrow, and not much lighted. Our guide in front, and Major Hall behind carried miners acetylene lamps. The rock above and on the sides was wet, and it now became apparent why we were given rubber boots. Every now and again we had to stand aside to allow a truck full of ore to go past, pushed by a running native. At other times we had to wait at the ends of shoots where the ore was rattling down from the workings just above. By this time it was hot, and we were all perspiring freely. Herbert and I thought it was quite like being back in Bengal. We were making for a place where ore was being drilled up an incline. The drillers work in gangs of three. One man sits and holds the pneumatic drill in place with his feet. It must be a frightfully exhausting job, for the drill shakes the whole of the man’s body. The drilling is done during the morning shift, and it is arranged that all up and down a section of the mine, where the slanting workings go through from level to level, the blasting is done on the same afternoon and that section of the mine is closed till the following morning by which time the dust has settled. There are all sorts of devices now for getting rid of dust, and so controlling miners phthisis. The pneumatic drills are fitted with a device, by which water is sprayed onto the rock all the time the drilling is going on. We saw no apparent dust. Mr. Pretorius said that before methods of control had been worked out, the air where working was going on was often a thick haze. It was by now well past 11 o’clock, and we must have walked several miles, so I began to feel anxious about Herbert and wonder whether he was feeling exhausted. I was relieved when we retraced our steps, and began the ascent to the surface. There was no sense of oppression underground, but it was quite nice to come out into the sun and air again. We spent a few more minutes looking at the huge winding gear in the big shed at the surface, and then went to the changing rooms to get back into our own clothes and drink mugs of coffee. Once it has been pointed out, it is easy to spot the gold-bearing rock, for it is peppered with quartz pebbles. The gold lies where these pebbles fit into the rock. It is invisible to the human eye. The small sparkling bits that look so tempting are iron pyrites, or “Fool’s gold”. The average yield in the Robinson Deep is 4½ pennyweights of gold to the ton! Its strange to think of the enormous industry working so busily to get gold. Carlton Jones, whom we met on Tuesday, says that there are many thousands of miles of underground passage in the Rand Reef.

Edward Magill had got a day off on Tuesday, and gave up his time and his petrol showing us the University. Lying along a valley with its wings up the hills, there are some splendid view points in Jo’burg, and we looked out at the sky scrapers in the heart of the city, at the huge white and yellow dumps stretching away along the reef east and west, at garden suburbs, with their golf courses, sports clubs and race courses, and at the rolling country beyond. We went to the University, which stands well on a hill top, with its playing fields terraced below. There are fine great blocks of pillared stone buildings. Its interesting to stand on the great terrace and be able to see all the main part of the university from that one spot. There seems to be little of the college system. Each subject has its block and the students are sorted out according to what they are reading. We went into the fine library and spent some time in Edward’s special domain, the Civil Engineering Block and shops. Most impressive we thought it. Edward says the pity is that with so many advantages, the standard of work is low.

From the University we dropped down into the centre of the city, and went up Escom House, the highest block in the town. The lift took us up fourteen floors, and we walked three more. Its worth the trouble, for the city is laid out like a map below.

Our next port-of-call was the office of Consolidated Gold Mines Ltd, where we spent a pleasant half hour with Herbert’s cousins, Carleton and Harvey Jones. Carleton Jones kindly invited us to abandon our hotel and go to stay with him, but we had made a lot of engagements, we had unpacked and settled in to our quarters, and most of all I was afraid that staying with comparative strangers, especially wealthy people like the Carleton Jones might be too tiring for Herbert. We have made a plan that Herbert and I should stay with them on our journey southwards in August.

Judy Magill met us for lunch at the Carleton Grill, which is a nice-looking place, but I did not think the standard of cooking very high for the prices and the general get-up of the place.

By the time we had finished lunch, Herbert was ready for a rest and Edward dropped him home by car, while I went to the Y.W.C.A. where I had a date with Dot Bromley. I browsed amongst her books, while she finished signing her letters, and then we went in her car to the Zoo, which is a fine place, and had a short walk there, before going back to the hotel to have tea with Herbert.

All my days were full, and when Herbert had to rest, I went sightseeing on my own or with Dot. She had saved up petrol and took us for a lunch picnic, through the town of Veeriniging to a place on the Vaal River where there is a big barrage. The drive gave us a good idea of the country. Near Jo’burg it is broken up into rocky hills, and there is a great deal of rock everywhere. Some ten or fifteen miles to the south east, one emerges from the hills on to rolling grass lands, carrying a lot of cattle. Now, in the dry winter season, they are mostly brown, but in the summer when the rains are on, the country is green. The huge power station at Vereeniging ( I spelt it wrong earlier) with its eleven enormous cooling towers, the like of which I had never seen before, shows up from many miles away. Vereeniging with its wide street is a pleasant town, with a certain historical fame as the place where the treaty was signed after the Boer War.

A great deal of extra beauty is added to the landscape on this country known as the High Veldt, and to the Karoo, by the magnificent cloud effects, and the shadows they throw on the earth, giving variety where otherwise might be monotony.

Winter ploughing was going on, with big spans of oxen, eight or ten to a plough. Along the roads we saw wagons being pulled by spans of oxen or donkeys, often as many as twelve or fourteen. It looked to me as if two couples would have been enough to do the work, and the rest were just for show.

The natives in this part of the world dont ape the European dress so much. Most of those we saw walking had bright coloured blankets round their shoulders, and the women wore full skirts and bright kerchiefs on their heads.

The barrage was a pretty spot, with willows hanging over the water, but owing to war, it is guarded and one is not allowed to go down to the edge of the lagoon near the line of the barrage. We crossed the bridge into Natal, and lunched on the top of the slope. Dot had provided the most choice food, and I think we all felt a bit stuffed by the time we had finished.

25.5.43. Its not quite true to say that we had no time to write yesterday, but we were in Pretoria all morning, had a very late lunch, and then did not feel inclined to sit down to our typewriters. The cold which I had before we left Cape Town, and which I thought I had lost before we left Jo’burg, has revivied in the form of a tiresome throat cough and loss of voice. The cough makes me feel lazy and disinclined to concentrate, so I think I shall leave the attempt to describe this enchanting place till next week. I shall just say a few more things about our stay in Jo’burg.

Judy and Edward dined with us one evening, & I took them to see “The Day Will Dawn”, that good film about Norway. They entertained us to dinner the night before we left. Judy cooked it herself, and very nice it was. We like them both so much. The bracing air of Jo’burg must have helped Herbert, for he had several strenuous days, and was not too badly tired.

Edward Magill and Dot Bromley both came to take us to the station on Sat. morning. At Edward Groth’s request, we went by train leaving about 12.30 and reaching Pretoria at 1:45. This enabled him to come and meet us with his big Ford car, into which he was able to stow all our luggage, and drives us out here. It is grand to see him again, and he is a charming host.

This place is really out in the country, which means we cannot easily get about, but it is so delightful, that we are happy to be here most of the time. The artist and his family who built Elangeli now live a few hundred yards away, a little up the hill-side, and they are the dearest people. They are treating us as if we were long lost friends, rather than complete strangers. Mr. Pierneef is Dutch-Africans. His wife is a Dutch-woman, and they have one delightful sixteen-year old daughter, two dogs and several cats.

Yesterday, Empire Day was a holiday. Edward had to go to the Legation to see if there were any urgent telegrams, and to deliver a bag of mail from the U.S.A. to the External Affairs Dept, which is right the other side of the town in the famous Union Buildings. He also had to leave cards on the British High Commissioner, The Canadian Minister and one or two others on account of the Day, so it gave a nice excuse to drive us round the town.

We had a chat with Mr Macveagh, the American Minister, while Edward was looking through his papers, and during our drive, we called on Mrs Macveagh.

The Union Buildings, standing almost at the top of one of the hills which surround Pretoria, are reminisicient of the Secretariat at New Delhi. They were also designed by Baker. They are fine buildings, and their setting, with a great range of terraced gardens below them, gives them a splendid look.

Pretoria is a comfortable leisurely country town, lying in a wide basin of hills. Pleasant houses, standing in their own gardens fill the residential neighbourhoods. In the business and shopping districts there are two or three large squares, with the public buildings and banks well grouped round them, giving a feeling of plenty of space. On our way home, we called on Edward’s immediate junior, Mr Richards and his wife, where we drank sherry, and got to know them.

I can see that this page is coming to an end, so send thanks for letters. Recd on 21.5.43. Barney’s of March 6th, May’s of 12th and Grace’s No 13 of 15th. Also a book from May. Yesterday we got Annette’s No 7 of 11th Apr Air Graph of 26th Apr and Romey’s No 98 of 25th Feb.

Love to all
LJT


Family letter from HPV

c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
(Pretoria.) May 23rd Sunday.

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

Fate is against me. For some reason I am unable to do anything right on the typewriter; and the idea that the journey yesterday has jiggered it up in some way rests heavily on my spirits. However that would not explain why I leave out stops and maybe there is nothing wrong save my own futility.

By way of facilitating the composition of this letter I jotted down some notes of likely subjects while in the train on the way here yesterday; and now I cannot for the life of me remember what was meant by them. What can have been intended by the remark “Our send-off; two cats”? The only two cats that have come into our lives of late were two enormous animals which sat at the door of a café where we had morning tea on Sunday last. As we sat waiting for the tea, we heard the noise of a cat-and-dog fight behind us and soon there appeared a couple dragging a nice and reluctant terrier. After a while there followed the bigger cat, slowly slowly with every mark of a determination to get back at the dog and mark him: lucky that I am, as you know a sort of reincarnation of St. Francis, for I averted strife - - - by the simple method of running my hand down the animal’s spine as it passed. Still with a baleful eye on the dog it suffered itself to be soothed into staying for a while and then forgot what it was after.

This reminds me of yesterday’s good deed. I was returning from an attempt to get a torch battery for Joan when round the corner there came a thin screeching followed by four excited yelps. The former from a small white-wool dog and the latter from four fox terriers on the hunt. The route passed before I could take action and the terriers bowled the quarry over and started worrying it some twenty yards away. Now I hold the world’s records for a sprint: I arrived on the site of activity just in time - and there is something to be said for having been so long an official in the East, for my roar of command caused the terriers to fall back as if shot. The glory of the salvaging of the white dog was dimmed by its mistress’ obvious belief that I owned the dogs which were out to slaughter it. But it was Life while it lasted.

Did we tell of the Peke owned by Ed and Judy? I must say as indeed I said to them that I do not like the contraction “Ed” but there it is, established and liked by those who are most concerned. Judy’s name is really Jessie; and she thinks poorly of it. - The Peke is a most honourable dog, self-conscious owner of the flat. As a plaything for it, there is a large se-shell which is beyond the grasp of its mouth; very slippery it slides away some six or eight inches every time the Peke bites it and fury goes on growing in a most admirable way.

Edward gave up an undue amount of his leisure to us. Never have stray relations been more kindly treated. He had Tuesday morning off and ran us round to see sights including the University which was impressive and to visit the two second or more-remote cousins the Jones; thereafter we gave lunch to Judy and him at a restaurant which seemed to us not very efficient or good though it has a name. Judy had come out of office a bit early and was a bit late in getting back there. She looks like one overworking and is on edge; both at the little tea that she gave on Sunday (vide my last letter if I am not mistaken) and at the dinner to us on Friday she seemed to feel the strain and to be worried over-much whether things would go all right – as they did. There is a very engaging freshness about her. Dinner for her on the night of the lunch that we gave them was nothing at all; she said that she had eaten too much at the lunch though she had only some crayfish and a small ice-cream. Edward took little more at either lunch or dinner – I learned about the dinner when I phoned up to thank them for a bottle of sherry: we had asked if they could let us have an empty bottle so that we might buy sherry in preparation for their dining with us and they sent a full one instead. I harangued them on the topic of regular meals but they replied that experience had taught them what worked best: and they may have been right.

May 25th Tuesday.

I stopped typing six lines back on Sunday, being infuriated by my inability to avoid mistakes. Joan says that I was tired. Indeed I had had three for me strenuous days. Thursday the visit to the gold mine; Friday a picnic which with tea at Dot Bromley’s afterwards kept me out from 10-15 till just in time to change for the Magills coming to dinner; and Saturday the railway journey which postponed lunch till three o’clock, followed by a visit to the Pierneefs, dinner at 8-30 as contrasted with 6-30 or 7 customary us these days. No lie-back on the last two days.

Joan has given the main news about all these activities and some associated with them such as a lunch at the Navy League restaurant with a visit to their sheepskin products section, and a visit to the Soldiers Home (very well run); but even though it entails writing a second sheet, and involves boredom for my readers, I shall add something.

The fat Major who went down the mine with us asserted that he had worn four rollers (?Punkt?) down to the core in the effort to roll his stomach up into his chest; not true but plausible. Down at the 6000 foot level there were quite a lot of rats scuttling around among the rails and winding machinery of the incline to the 8000 foot level which we could not visit. They eat the grease and get scraps from the workers. One of the men said that the first time that he went down the mine after the big strike he had to drop the lunch that he had brought for himself and bolt for fear of the army of rats which made for him. They spoke also of big cockroaches; but these I voluntarily omit because we saw none and scarcely believed what was told of them. Notable on our return journey was the flat refusal of the tram conductor to let us pay for our trip; he had omitted to ask us for the fares and when I proffered them at the terminus he waved us aside.

On the picnic there was an alarming moment when as Dot Bromley essayed to change gears the lever came away in her hand. It might have been an awkward thing but we were practically stationary in a town at a cross road. The lever had merely unscrewed and a garage put it right for nothing. There was an exciting moment as we started on the return journey; a soldier to whom Dot had given a lift and who was still waiting for another lift for the rest of his journey when we were coming away after feeding announced that news had just come through that the British had got Sicily, as he had learnt from the local policeman who had been listening to the wireless. Not true as we learnt on our arrival in Johannesburg!

My watch stopped on the morning of our leaving for Pretoria and in consequence I came near to being late; when I went up after paying the bill I found Joan waiting uneasily with Dot and Edward both of whom had come with cars to conduct us to the station. Good of them. Edward has a most satisfactory laugh and makes one feel quite witty.

Dot condemning rumours heartily is none the less a great one for passing them on. She repeated talk about ships which I suggested to her was improper; justifying it by her belief that it was true and that anyhow it was old. It is a thing against which I used to argue in Calcutta; for I hold the officials’ view that nothing should be repeated that has not been published in papers or in wireless broad-casts and better not even then if it is bad news.

The owner of this house, the artist named Pierneef of whom Joan has surely spoken, is a regular jack of all trades; I have been watching him supervising the laying of drains by some natives whom he has trained. His father, an architect, caused him and his brother to learn masons’ work, carpenters’, tinsmiths’, blacksmiths’; he started training as an architect and was with his brother in a contracting business before he took to painting. His pictures seem to me to be good; he has several quite different styles. No more hospitable couple ever walked; already in two days and a bit they have given us afternoon tea, drinks of a liqueur after we had been a walk, and morning tea (today; that interrupted this letter and deprived me altogether of inspiration).

The two domestics are Italians; released on parole prisoners of war. Speaking no English; and Mr. Groth speaks no Italian though he knows some stray words. It is amusing. Quite a toss-up what comes for meals and when it comes. One cook and one barber who serves as house-maid. The house might have dropped out of Hans Anderson. Much livestock - dogs, cat, goldfish and birds. The first all belonging to the Pierneefs. How charming the 16 year old daughter of the Ps. .’! and as you see something went wrong with that exclamation mark. We are miles away from the town and it looks as if the opportunities of getting in there would be small. Luckily my teeth are giving me much less trouble and I shall not have to worry the dentist as I expected would be necessary. But still there is much discomfort and I sit long over meals mumbling the stiff toast which it is my duty to eat. I have renounced also my idea of getting a doctor to overhaul me and say how I am. Twice lately I have forgotten to take my acid before meals and have yet suffered no ill effects; question, has the cheiropractor really done what he promised?

Much love
Dad

Airgraph from HPV to Annette (addressed to Miss Annette Townend. P.O.Box 222 S.W.70 Howick Place London S.W.1 England

No 11 May 27th 1943 Written at Pretoria.

Dear Annette,
Joan is in bed with a cold; the Cape Town cold, despised and declared almost well until the day after our arrival here she lost her voice. Still on her second day in bed she has a slight temperature; but declares herself much better. ------- I assume that you have been exchanging letters received from us with your aunt; so I do not repeat what Joan told her in her No. 10 of 18th. Since then there have arrived your no. 7 of 11th April, and your airgraph of 26th, Grace’s no. 13 and Barnie’s of 6th March. All welcome. Thanks for the Lakes itinerary: it sounds strenouous. ------Edward’s personally conducted was a great success. First to a view-point on a steep hill-side looking north over a valley full of golf-courses, trees, fine suburbs and hospitals. Then round rich residential areas to the University, where we entered the Library and Edward’s own haunt, the Engineering labs; they do research in the latter for the government; interesting. Thence into the city where we saw cousins, Carleton Jones and brother, the former a big pot in the gold-world. He asked us to move into his house; kind of him, but we were fixed where we were. Next Lunch with or to Judy and Edward; in a nice-looking restaurant, not cheap but with poorish service and not very good food. I spent the rest of the afternoon lying down, Joan at a museum. Next day, Wednesday, we visited a workshop making up sheepskins into slippers, muffs and toys for sale in aid of the navy sheepskin-coat fund; after having lunch at the Navy League Restaurant with the Mrs. Roper whom we met in Cape Town and her husband, a barrister who is just now defending a Cape paper in a libel action brought by a nationalist paper which was accused of faking news to favour the Germans. An interesting man but too hurried to talk. Probably it was that afternoon that we looked in on Dot Bromley; tea there; I trammed home, Joan went with Dot to a museum. Dinner with Judy and Edward. Very pleasant. They came to our hotel. Afterwards bed for me and Joan took them to a movie, where she much liked Ed’s whole-hearted laugh. Thursday, up early and down a gold-mine; to below sea-level; over 6000 feet down. A long and strenuous morning; interesting; but this trailer cannot give details. Unexpected were the rats; and not seen but told of the giant cockroaches, Bengal size apparently but out of place down there. I spent the afternoon lying down and Joan in a museum; so I am probably wrong in saying that it was on Wednesday that she went to one with Dot. Friday; we were taken out a picnic by Dot who had been saving petrol for it; but we felt very guilty about it, for we went over 100 miles. Objective a dam which she said was the largest of its kind in the world; but she must have got things wrong for it was small compared with some of our Indian dams, not much more than a quarter mile long. Too late back for Joan to do some shopping on which she counted; tea with Dot; then on a tram (boarded with difficulty owing to the rush-crowd) to the hotel; and out to dinner at Edward’s and Judy’s flat. ---- Next morning finished packing and in very good time went down to the station in the cars of both Dot and Edward who insisted in coming to help us with our luggage. Electric train to Pretoria; a little over an hour and interesting country. Town, mine-dumps, rolling hills, gum plantations, narrow valley, Pretoria. Met by Edward Groth who ran us out to his house, a good seven miles, and gave us lunch at some time after three. Then he led us up the hill to meet his landlord and family; charming. Round the city on Monday and since then in the house.


From LJT to Annette

From Mrs H.P.V. Townend. C/o The Standard Bank of S.Africa. Cape Town.

Written from – “Elandgeli”
Bruinmaria
Pretoria
May 29th 1943.

My darling Annette

A quiet comfortable room, a big log fire, a good light on the writing-table and no feeling of haste, have encouraged me to enjoy myself and spend about three quarters of an hour going through the latest letters from you and Aunt and Uncle. Your No 7 of 11th April and Airgraph of 26th April, both reached me on Empire Day – and are full of points of interest – including the proposed itinerary of your week’s holiday in the Lakes – I have not got a map here, but can follow it roughly in my mind from memory – Dad and I stayed at the Lodore Hotel near the south end of Derwent Water for a fortnight once, and motored about a lot, but did not do much walking or climbing – Under the influence of Uncle Bernard, who was staying with his sister at Keswick, we went up into Borrowdale and climbed Scafell by an easy route, but did not push right on to the top as clouds came down. We know Grassmere Eskdale and Wastwater, as well as the Honister Pass and have looked often at Great Gable but never climbed him – Its all lovely country and I hope the weather is kind. Freddie Spencer Chapman, who was last heard of with Commandos in Malaya, knew and loved all that part so well – I think you have chosen the lovliest section of the Lakes – It will be good to hear how it all works out – it seems a strenuous programme –

I am glad the first 2 food parcels arrived safely. You speak of Raisin Chocolate – What I ordered was 2 lbs plain Chocolate. 1 lb Raisins – 1 lb dried fruit. I’d be interested to know whether the shops sent what I ordered. I’m also glad to hear that the old black woolly suit eventually reached you – not so much for its own sake, but because it means that the three shirts reached Uncle alright. They must have been ages en route – I think it is wonderful that you managed to get a coat and skirt out of the thicker Kashmir stuff – I only reckoned for a dress and then was afraid I might have been skimpy. I wish now I had sent you enough to make a long coat as well. These high prices for making up materials seem to be ruling all over the world, except perhaps in India – and even there they are much up on pre-Jap-war prices – What has Pam had her bit of stuff made into?

Your letter No 6 has not turned up yet – but that means nothing in these days – I wonder if it tells about the change of your garden allotment. It must have been heartbreaking to have to change if you had already got a lot of seeds into your old plot.

Yes! I agree with you that a great proportion of novels are unsatisfactory – So many of them seem so thin – The characters are not build up to reality and one learns nothing about people, places or periods from them – Long books like “All This and Heaven Too” – “Gone With the Wind” – “Anthony Adverse” and “The Sun is My Undoing” – do give one the impression that the authors have taken the trouble to soak themselves in the period and that the story and its characters have grown naturally from that soil. Delightful, restful books, which are stories in a sense, but not novels, are Lady Hosie’s books about China – “Two Gentlemen of China” and “Chinese Lady” – Aunt mentioned in her letter that her lodger (I dont know his name) always talked in clichés and apparantly never read a book. “George” – who lodged so long with H.D. and Winsome was the same – He was an admirable young man – always neat and punctual – always ready to do a good deed, but just without any ideas of his own at all – HD said that until he had had George living in the house for some time, he had never been able to understand how anyone could choose to be a bank-clerk and to remain one – now he knows. The privately run subscription library at Sea Point from which most of the people in our hotel used to get books gave me the same feeling that you say Boots gives you – only this was far worse. There was nothing but novels there, and all done in red bindings exactly like every other. It seemed to me a sort of nightmare – Dad and I hurried out and walked the extra quarter mile to the Government Library which we found so excellent. I have noted down “The New American History” – and will try to get hold of it sometime. Edward G. has not heard of it – If you can ever get hold of that admirable book “The Epic of America” by J. Truslove Adams, I am sure you would enjoy it. It is written with such fair-mindedness and sagacity. About this country, I think you might enjoy “Outlanders” by C.E. Vulliamy. It gives an excellent general survey of how this country developed both itself and its problems.

The film I took Edward and Judy Magill to in Jo’burg was one of those English war films that, as you say, so far outshone the American ones, by sticking to truth and simplicity – Americans such as we are in contact with here – are fully conscious of the shortcomings of their war films – So is the New Yorker (of which there are many back copies in this house.) The New Yorker even published extracts from letters from men in the fighting forces complaining that the false heroics make fools of them –

Edward says he was glad to be out of Washington. It has not “found” itself yet – Some departments are grossly overstaffed and others miserably the reverse. There is not nearly enough decentralization about routine stuff, and consequently important matters often get bogged – The Legation here is working very long hours – Edward rarely gets home much before 8. Pm, including Saturdays and takes alternate Sundays with the next man, Mr Richards, in attending to urgent cables, which often takes several hours – The work is complicated by the fact that they have to be here, in Pretoria, which is the official capital – but the naval attaches and staffs have to be in Cape Town and Durban and the Lease-Lend dept in the Commercial centre, Johannesburg – This entails an immense amount of duplicating of work and writing of despatches and code telegrams.

I am glad you see Gavin now and again. I wish he had not written in that queer way to me a year or two ago, talking about the country “oweing” him this and that – It made Dad so angry – far more so than the actual fact that he has stuck to his pacifism. It seems a peculiar point of view. I should have thought it was just the other way round. Your country, in normal times, gives you protection which you are young, so when you come to adult estate, surely the debt is on your side? Has he ever discussed the matter with you - ?

You would enjoy yourself in this house – Edward has bought his big library of records with him. I think he must have hundreds – We have played over a few after dinner of an evening and a couple of days ago sixteen year old Micky Pierneef came over at dusk and we played the Nutcracker Suite (I was not sure quite how classical is) and then as she professed herself very fond of Mozart, we had the “Jupiter” Symphony – Its nice to hear some music again. Most of the records are at present stuffed into the drawers of the writing bureau or stacked on a high shelf in the cloakroom, till proper storage space is arranged for them – Edward had only just moved into this place when we arrived and still has not unpacked a lot of his stuff.

Your assistance would be invaluable in our efforts to communicate with the Italian servants. Santi, the cook had a satisfactory conversation with me the other day on the subject of one of the Pierneefs’ cats who has decided to live down here – I could only understand the one word “Bambino” – but from the cooks delighted expression, I am pretty sure that “Signorina” as they call the pretty little cat, will shortly be a mother. This seems to give him great satisfaction, though I should say she is much too young –

Like you, I find Romey’s account of the possibilities of the work she may do, most fascinating – and I shall add my request that she should not cut short the technical descriptions, to yours already sent. Edward seems to think it would be a mere nothing for her to go across to visit Mary Ow and Baroness Giskra in Florida – but then he is a fantastic traveler and thinks nothing of rushing from one side of a huge continent to the other – You are the one I should really like to meet those two dear women for I think you would have so much in common and I don’t think the big steps in age would make the least difference – Baroness Giskra at about seventy has a freshness and acuteness of outlook, which is often lacking in young people. I’ll be thinking of you on your holiday next week.

Best love and blessings from Mother.

P.S. I always forget to send greetings to Anne and Christina, but I often think of them and feel glad you have such nice friends. I look forward to meeting the Roscoes when we get home and so often feel warmly grateful for their hospitality to you.

Mother

Here’s another PS – Will you send me Doris’ address and if you see her give her my live. Sorry I have not written to her for such ages.

From LJT to Romey


Elangeli, Pretoria
May 30th, 1943

My darling Romey,

It is a fortnight and a day since we got the cable telling that you had graduated, and I keep on wondering how soon we can possibly get a letter with further details. And also how soon you will know anything definite about your future plans. I hope you managed to put in a good rest when you exams were over.

Your letter No 98, rec’d here on Empire Day, completes the series, and there is no longer a gap between the sea and air mails. Were you going to be in Winnipeg I should suggest that perhaps you could share an airmail envelope with Susie if she writes to Ed by air. He could then send the enclosure on to us. This won’t be much good, though, if you are going to the States. Air Mail is very expensive from there, but I am not sure that the most satisfactory thing would not be to send by it once a month. We so often only get the sea mails at intervals of three or four weeks and many of the letters take three months and more to come.

The War seems to be standing on the eve of great events. I hope the pessimists who say that it will take two or three years to get all the people in Africa, who wish to return to England, back to their homeland, are wrong. I have faith that something will be arranged, though it is obvious that repatriating all the people who are scattered about the world, is going to be a difficult job.

It is nice to hear that all the parcels we have sent home have arrived. One has taken so long that I thought it must have been lost. I sent it off before leaving India. It contained three shirts for Uncle, and a woolen suit that I had dyed, and which shrank a bit, so that it was a little tight for me, but I thought would be plenty big enough for Annette. I also put in a couple of blouses for her. I have only just heard of its arrival! There is still no news of the Christmas presents from you, but I have not by any means given up hope of them.

You would love this place. The artist, Mr. Pierneef and his family who created it, have endowed it with a delightful atmosphere, to which Edward Groth has added his own unusual and delightful personality. The Pierneef’s, father, mother, and sixteen-year old daughter, with two dogs and at least three cats, live a few hundred yards away up the koppje, as all hjills are called in this country (pronounced just like ‘copy’ ), and they have welcomed us as if we were some of their dearest friends. They are all darlings, and he is a very good artist. Edward Groth is away at his office all day, but we can’t feel lonely, with the Pierneefs popping in here, and expecting us to go to their house whenever we feel like it. Edward had two Italian parole prisoners for servants. We have such amusing attempts to understand one another. They are both nice fellows, and evidently happy to be here. They are always singing at their work, and it’s nice to hear them for they both have good tenor voices.

It’s been a great delight getting to know Ed and Judy, for it seems to draw the families closer, and we like them both so much. Though we saw quite a lot of them during the week we were in Johannesburg, I have such heaps more things I want to talk to them about. I hope we shall be able to stay there again on our way South in August or thereabouts.

I am so glad you have got the idea of doing something that will be useful to your fellow men. What has made the world so sick at the present time is the lack of that feeling, I believe. I have perceived this for myself for some years, but it is most forcibly put by Gerald Heard, in his book “The Third Morality”, which, though a little stiff, is most interesting. Edward G. met him in California and was much impressed by him. Edward has a large number of his books. He is an Englishman, and a well-known anthropologist. His great studies in the development of man have led him to believe in the possibility of a still greater evolution, and the focus of his mind seems to have passed to the revival of religion, as the only means of saving mankind from destroying themselves.

Besides interesting books, Edward has a fine library of gramophone records, and we have a little music after dinner most evenings. He had to go to an official dinner given by the Portuguese Minister last night, and had meant to arrange for us to have dinner in town and go to a cinema, but my cold forbade. I got up in time for tea, and asked Micky (the Pierneef daughter) if she would come and play some records for me when it got dark. We started with the Nutcracker Suite, as I was not sure quite how severely classical her taste was, and then moved on to Mozart’s “Jupiter Symphony”. It’s a joy to hear some good music again. I wish Dad had more appreciation of music. I wonder whether it was entirely absent from their home, --and yet Uncle Frank, who was killed in the last war, was both fond of music and played himself, as so did Uncle G.

The very quiet life we are living here is suiting Dad. He is looking better than he has for a long time, and has been in good spirits. Evidently a country life is the thing for him. Having to rush about and fulfill engagements and meet a lot of strange people knocks him out at once. He has had tremendous talks with Mr. Peirneef, but somehow you can’t think of him as a stranger, and Dad is so interested in the terracing and building he is doing. Besides being an artist, he is a very practical man. Talking to him does not tire Dad at all. Micky amuses Dad very much. She is a dear girl, perfectly natural, full of vivacity and keen enjoyment in things, and intelligent too. She is having a holiday from school because there was an outbreak of mumps, and the school delayed its re-opening.

Edward is largely vegetarian in his habits, and I have never seen such quantities of vegetables as are used in this house. Santi, the cook, has just appeared hugging a huge cabbage and holding an outsized kitchen knife in his other hand, to inquire whether we like cabbage. It appears that Signor Groth does not, and it appeared to me that Santi incidentally informed us that his father does like cabbage, but Dad thinks I have let my imagination lose, and that the part of the sentence we could not follow, did not mean that at all.

I don’t think I have half expressed how pleased and proud Dad and I are that you have done so well at the University. The marvel is that you have accomplished it while carrying on so many social activities.

Best love,
Mother


Family letter from LJT No 21

“Elandgeli”
Pretoria.
May 30th 1943.

My Dears,

This week I have suffered the humiliation of having to take to my bed, in order to cure my cold, which turned into a nasty cough. It made me feel very uncomfortable all Tuesday, so I yielded to persuasion, and spend the whole of Wed. in bed. I should not have got up on Thursday had it not been that Edward had arranged a house-Warming in the form of a buffet supper. I enjoyed the party, but felt remarkably hoarse after it was over. During the party, I enjoyed a long talk about art and artists with Mr Pierneef. The more we see of him, the more delightful we find him.

On Friday I kept my bed till tea-time, and yesterday I got up after breakfast. To-day I have returned to normal, and am very glad of it. Its always such a trial to be dependent on other people, and to feel that one is a nuisance to them.

Not having gone about to see things and meet people, I can just devote this letter to giving you some idea of the place we are living in, and of the Pierneef family who have created it.

The beginning of “Elandgeli” (The place where the sun shines in welcome) was the old gardenia tree, to which the natives used to come to pray for rain. It must be fifteen feet or more in height, but it is a true tree, for it lifts its crown of glossy dark leaves some six feet above the ground, showing its beautifully curved trunk and branches of dark iron grey. Close to it an old thorn tree of about the same size but more spreading habit, contrasts its light green feathery foliage, with the solid darkness of the gardenia. Under these two trees the Pierneefs camped, as they often did when they found landscapes he wanted to paint.

They fell in love with the place, bought the land, and little by little, in the fashion of a kraal, built a series of thatched buildings out of the rough local stone, joining them with walls to give them unity, and so fashioning a delightful dwelling place of a most unusual character.

The site on the northern slope of a long rocky hill, looks across valleys to more rolling hills: a lovely rural landscape. There is a good view of Pretoria from the top of the hill (Always spoken of as the Koppje) but it is shut off from Elandgeli by the shoulder of the hill itself.

To the west of the trees, the main block holds dining-room, drawing-room, entrance hall, cloakroom and kitchen. Across the garden court, which is terraced at different levels, stands the little guest-room, on the east of the trees. A five foot stone wall, with two embrasures for sitting in, and pierced by a thatched gateway, joins the two buildings with a graceful curve, and protects the court from the cold south winds.

The north side of the court is made by a building holding a small bed-room, (now used as a store-room) and an excellently equipped bath-room. The wall joins this to the guest room, and a gate in it leads down to the main bedroom, with its sleeping porch and a long narrow sitting-room, also its own shower and lav, with their own little court. This is Edward Groths special suite. West of it and north of the kitchen two buildings face each other across another little court, the one nearest the house is the laundry (complete with electric washing machine) larder, coal store and the other another bedroom, with suitable conveniences, now know as villa Italiana, since Edward’s two Italian parole prisoner servants live in it.

The local stone, quarried out of the hill-side all about, is pretty stuff, in pale shades of ochre, cream, grey and pink. To build the walls chunks of it are set in cement mixed with the local sand, which is something between terra-cotta and the fashionable shade which was known to the dressmakers as “cocoa” a few years ago. Crowned with the fine African thatch, the buildings are most satisfying to the eye.

Under the trees, wooden tables and chairs live permanently, and when the weather is warm, most of the meals are served there. Even now, Herbert has spent most of his mornings writing there.

Mr Pierneef, whose father insisted on his taking a training as a mason, carpenter and tin-smith, did all the building himself with native labour. Between painting pictures, he likes to work with his hands at out-of-door things. Perhaps it is that which makes both him and his work so robust. His studio is two or three hundred yards away up the hill. It was found in practice tht it was inconvenient having it so far from the house. Also he and his wife are away a good deal, and they felt they would like to have someone living close, so they fuilt rooms for themselves on to the studio, and have let their old home to Edward. They have planted a considerable orchard, and vegetable garden. Mrs Pierneef says that the native boys will work quite well so long as they know someone is in the house even if no actual supervision is given, but if no one is there, they tend just to stop work and sit and sleep.

In a way we see more of the Pierneefs than we do of Edward. The Legation is working frightfully hard, and he seldom gets back from office till nearly eight o’clock in the evening. The Pierneefs have an idea that because he does not drink tea or coffee himself he wont give us any, an appaling idea for anyone with South African habits. They are always calling us to go for morning or afternoon tea to them. Mrs Pierneef also has an idea that the Italians dont know how to light the wood fires in the big grates here, so she send her old Yacob down here. Yesterday afternoon he appeared with an armfull of logs, and squatted in front of the fire, which had grown rather low, moving the still burning chunks of wood about with his hands, and blowing upon them. He looked, for all the world, like some amiable old ape, especially when every now and again, he looked round at me over his shoulder.

The Italians, not un-naturally, seem very glad to be here. Santi, the cook, is really a cook, and obviously of the peasant class. William (he has asked to be addressed by the English version) is a well educated young man, who was a ladies hair-dresser in Rome before the war turned everything upside down, so he is picking up his work as house-man and valet as he goes along, and managing it very quickly. He has picked up just two or three words of English, and we have borrowed a French/Italian grammar from the Pierneefs, but communication is not easy, and causes much amusement. Edward does not know much Italian himself. His languages are French, German, Dutch and Danish, and he says that Hindustani keeps springing to his mind. Herbert will confuse council by producing Malay words, most troublesome to Edward, who was in Java many years ago, and has almost forgotten what he knew of that language.

Edward says he was glad to get away from war-time Washington, which is terribly crowded and confused. The detail of the huge war-administration has not sorted itself out as yet. Some departments are heavily over-staffed, and others dont know how to get through their work. There is not enough decentralization of routine matters, and important things are often bogged in comparatively trivial stuff. In fact the same tale of what has happened almost everywhere in the early stages, can be told of the U.S.A. From what we see in the many American papers in this house, no one is more critical of this state of things than the Americans themselves.

There are masses of back numbers of “The New Yorker”, and Herbert and I have been so delighted to see once more the brilliantly clever and absurd illustrations, which we used to enjoy so much when Louise Rankin passed the paper on to us. The Women’s Services come in for a deal of ragging. I think really the pictures are funnier than Punch.

Its lucky that, if I had to be laid up somewhere it was here, because beyond being a pleasant town, in a pretty setting of hills, there is not much to see. Edward says the zoo is a nice one, and proposes to take us there if he can possibly find the time, but I cannot see how he can fit it in with his long office day. We should have gone in to see “Desert Victory” if it had not been for my cold, but I dont think Herbert was very keen. The U.S.A. Minister and his wife, say that it is amazingly good, but they felt quite exhausted with emotion after it.

This quiet life here is suiting Herbert. He looks well, and seems cheerful.

William has just been in to look at the fire, and has taken the opportunity to engage in a little conversation. Talking with him is rather like looking at a surrealist picture, when I am not sure whether any of my impressions bear any relation to what is intended to convey. William produced a post-card which he has recently received from a friend who is a prisoner in England. I have the impression that the friend was wounded in the leg from a bomb splinter, and that William fell from a motor-bike and suffered some injury to his head. It will be interesting to find out whether this bears any relation to the facts.

We enjoyed the bunch of letters from home which reached us last week. I hope the promise of the mild winter and even milder spring, were not cut off by any late frosts. I like hearing about what’s doing in all the home gardens.

Best love to you all
LJT

(handwritten addition) 31.5.43 Your missing letter no 6 came to-day – telling about a visit to Highways – a visit to the dentist and the upset over your garden allotment. It seems more than a little hard that you should not have been warned of the building scheme earlier. Love and thanks Mother