1944 March
From LJT to Annette
At
The Settlers Club
Cape Town
March 2nd 1944
My darling Annette
While waiting for Mrs Cramer Roberts to arrive, I can at any rate begin a personal letter to you – There is a lot of good stuff and worthy of comment in your air-graph of Feb 8th.
My congratulations on getting a “rise” will have reached you by air-graph long before this – I’m glad you got an “indirect bouquet”, as you describe it – Though one likes to think that one does not want praise or thanks when doing a worth while job, in practice it does warm the heart when one knows that work has been noticed and appreciated – The greatest surprise I have ever had in that way was in my war job under Idris Matthews, when I was made a gazetted officer of the Gov. Of India. Such an idea had never crossed my mind.
Perhaps I have a false impression about dislike for house work – I rather enjoy an hour or two of it, but what I find tiresome are the little cooking and shopping and washing-up jobs which seem to go on all day – Much of this would be eliminated in a reasonable sized kitchen – The actual house work in the flat was tiresome, because there were none of the proper tools, no mop for the polished wood floor – only a very rickerty tin dust pan with no handle and a much worn hard brush – also a much worn soft broom – It made the small amount of work much more labourious than it need have been – One of the many things I admire about Aunt is that she organizes her cooking and housework so well, that she always seems to have time for other things – with a little more experience perhaps I shall be able to do so too – though I dont feel that I shall ever “love cooking” as some people say they do.
We much enjoyed your story about “Do you think Love is worth 25/? – Telling this at Eileen Forsyth’s the other evening, Professor Compton, who was there, capped it by saying he had only that day had a letter from Government asking him to state the cost of “loving allowance” for his staff: Good – dont you think?
My excitement about coming home is mixed with a little apprehension about how Dad will stand the voyage – I just hope we shall be lucky and get fairly good accomodation on a ship where the food is fairly good. They seem to vary a very great deal.
March 5th – Sorry I have not found time to go with this before. Since I stopped writing I have had Romey’s 1st air-graph from Montreal, and am so glad, I might almost say relieved, that she has been fixed up so quickly, both with a job, which seems congenial, and with a nice place to stay, and that she has also met plenty of friends. As things are, I dont suppose she will feel it right to try to get home this summer, and much as I long to see her, I think that is correct.
I am glad you have read “The Great Trek” and enjoyed. Its interesting that the Voortrekkers found it impossible to agree amongst themselves – Their descendents show exactly the same qualities and weaknesses now – Best love - Mother
Airgraph from LJT to Grace Townend (addressed to Mrs. A.B.S. Townend. Highways. Great Leighs. Nr. Chelmsford. Essex. England)
No 5 Feb. 3rd 1944. (must actually have been March 3?)
Dearest Grace & Barney: Thanks for B’s a-g of 2/2 rcd 25/2 & Anne’s of 8/2 rcd 29/2*. In answer to B., if there is difficulty about Richard’s bonds & certificates, let them be left, if possible, till we come home. Should it be necessary to do something about them, let them be sold & the money put into our joint account with Grindlay’s. Thanks for all the trouble taken. It seems more than a week since we said goodbye to Elgin, arrived in Cape Town to find it v. Hot. Since we could not be in the flat, it was nice to come to a place we know, & the Settlers’ Club is so friendly. There are such nice people here this time. Plans go well. The authorities concerned seem quite hopeful that we shall be away before our allotted stay at the Club is due to finish. We have been given B priority which is more than I expected. Edward G. is putting in a favourable word with the external affairs dept, trying to get us permission to bring back more than the allotted 20 lbs each of food stuffs. I am busy shopping & have got you, (G.) a tailor-made coat & skirt in dark blue flannel with which pin stripe. For you (B) I have got 3 suits pyjamas, but I can only get wincey. The shopmen shake their heads as if I had asked for the moon, when I ask for flannel. We were out a lot during our last few days in Elgin. Nice people there say “come back & settle”, but I dont think we shall. Edward Groth met us at the station, which was a truly noble act, seeing how frightfully busy he is. He lunched with us the next day. We had all had letters from mutual friends in India & America, & wanted to pass on news of them. On Monday I started work, & besides carrying on with the filing I am helping with the interviewing of men wanting hospitality, which is rather fun. Unfortunately there are so many taking leave just now that its terribly difficult to find accommodation. H. is pretty well & has been busy about various things. There are 3 government servants here from N. Rhodesia, Nigeria & Ceylon respectively & he finds them congenial & talks a good bit with them. We have had one or two people to lunch, & went to Seapoint after supper one evening to see Eileen Forsyth, who, with her children, is flitting shortly. We shall miss them, but it may not be so very long before we meet again. There was only one other visitor the other evening & we had amusing talk, as we sat in the garden & watched a pink sunset over the sea. It was a great thrill to get an a-g from Romey from Montreal this morning, as well as one from Susie, I am so glad & relieved to hear that Romey has a job which she likes & that she has found a nice place to live. It appears that her first few days in Montreal were anything but lonely. Its nice for her that there are two Stairs families there, and John Averill. Herbert has just been reading to me aobut manure, humus & such from an excellent work, “The Skeptical Gardener” by Humphrey John, a book to be recommended. There is a tearing south-easter blowing to-day, but these winds do not make it cold, nor dim the brilliance of the sun. The “table cloth” of white cloud remains spread on Table Mountain, but does not wander from it. Cape town is much occupied with preparations for a great out-of-door show, connected with the war & the fighting forces, but with all kinds of other “attractions” of a Wemblyish nature, which takes place at the end of this month. It seems to us that it would be better to put that much work & energy into activities more directly connected with the defeat of Hitler. Its going to make an already congested town, more congested still, & how the already grossly over-burdened trams & buses will stand up to increased demands, Lord knows! We are glad to be able to hear the wireless news once more. There is a good machine in the small lounge, & a group of people who always listen. Love Joan.
(handwritten addition)*Also G’s A-G of 8-2-44 rcd 4-3-44
Family letter from LJT No 9
The Settlers’ Club
Cape Town.
March. 5th 1944
My Dears,
There is a sort of under-current of excitement in all my thoughts these days. Little problems connected with coming home, crop up at every turn, and other things seem unimportant beside them, except work in office, when, for three hours daily, I forget my own affairs.
The end of the job or rearranging the files is within sight, and it will be a pleasure when I am able to stick fresh labels on the backs, and type a nice neat list to put on the inside door of the cupboard and in the reference book. The interruptions to deal with men wanting hospitality are rather pleasant, but its sad that at this moment it is almost impossible to help men who have not given us notice ahead. From all over the Union, and from Rhodesia men seem to want to spend their leave in Cape Town, and come in spite of warnings that the place is full to bursting.
A huge show, known as “Cavalcade” is being put on here during the last part of this month. It seems to be a descendent of the Aldershot Tatoo; Wembley, and the Military Tournaments. The avowed object is to raise a big sum of money for war charities. There is a pretty general feeling that it is also hoped to stir the imaginations of certain sections of the community, who are apt to forget there is a war being fought, or to regard it as a personal nuisance. This affair has made people extra busy, and many who ordinarily will take servicemen as guests, have friends coming for that week, which complicates things for our “Hospitality Section” very much.
Early in the week I went to the Office of the Ministry of War Transport to see whether they had done anything about granting us a priority. Rather to my surprise I found that we had been given “B”. The man I saw was quite cheerful and hopeful. He does not think we shall have to wait an outrageously long time for passages, though naturally he cannot give any definite idea of when we are likely to get away.
There are a good many things to see to apart from shopping, for we want to be quite ready at any time. The Customs office gave me forms to fill in for our application to be allowed to take a small quantity of food stuffs home with us. The forms have to be done in triplicate, the space allowed is meagre and the paper so bad that it is impossible to do the forms by duplicating on a type-writer. One has to find out the weights and the prices of everything one wants to take, so its been quite a business, and almost all undertaken by Herbert, with great nobility. The result is a picture of neatness. I should not think the department have ever received forms so well made out.
Another job is getting Herbert’s trunk full of books and papers censored. A great friend of Edward Groth’s who has been a good friend to us too, happens to be in another section of the censor’s office, and said he would speak to the section concerned, in case it might be helpful. He phoned me to tell me to ask for Mr Nutt, and as I thought, Mr Ale. I said the ale went well with nuts, and my friend mishearing me, thought I said ‘Nails’, laughed heartily down the phone, saying I seemed to be playing ‘Happy Families’. By chance I met him crossing the Garden the next day, and at once he began chuckling again at the thought of my ‘Happy Family’ game. The real name of the official concerned is Ayles.
The nice old caretaker at Victoria Court, is letting us leave our heavy boxes in the box store there, as Mrs Gerrard, who is back in the flat has nothing she wants to put in. Its a great convenience, for it is easier to get at them there than in the box room here, which incidentally is crowded with stuff, since there are other people waiting to get home, and consequently having far more baggage with them, than the ordinary visitor.
Making contact with our friends again, I rang up Eileen Forsyth, who was in a great state of excitement, as she is soon leaving for her home. Since it is so hot in the late afternoon, and anyhow there is not much time after I came out of office, we arranged to go out one evening after dinner to see her, and we spent a merry evening sitting in her little bit of garden, watching a soft pink sunset over the sea, while we laughed and argued. Herbert always takes up the position that everything that Eileen says or believes, much be wrong, and this puts them on an excellent footing for argument. Professor Compton dropped in too. I told Annette’s story of how she caused a sensation in the office by asking “Do you think Love is worth 25/ ?” (The ‘Love’ in question is an anthology by Walter de la Mare). Encouraged by this Professor Compton told that that very day he had received a letter from Government asking him to state ‘the cost of loving allowance’ for his staff.
One or two people have been in to lunch with us, and Mrs Blackburn from Elgin, arrived on Friday morning, saying I must come out to buy the much discussed hat. I confessed that I had had to get one directly I got here, so she demanded the bill, for which she says her husband will send me a cheque. No protests would move her. She says he is determined to salve his conscience. I went out to have morning tea with her, and she recounted how, at a recent meeting of the co-operative society in Elgin, there was such a row that the district is rent in twain. Its on the subject of these Fruit Control Boards, which Government has set up. These are the sort of incidents that make one realize how hard it is to make co-operative efforts work.
This is a pleasant place to stay. The house is an old one, or rather two, added on to at the back, the additions making a square court with verandah on two sides, a small square of grass, a sundial and a few flowers. Our room in one a corner in front, looking across Queen Victoria St to the Gardens, with Devil’s Pk beyond. That is what I see when I look out of the window in front of me now. I dont see a house at all. So much for the Eastern aspect. From the North window we look across a private blind alley road to the rather handsome building, which houses the Archives, but as it stands back from the road a bit we get a fine view of Table Mt. The visitors at the moment are much more interesting than they were during our short stay last Autumn. There are several government servants, representing many parts of the world, N. Rhodesia, Nigeria, Ceylon, and a wife from Freetown, Sierra Leon. There are many other pleasant people too, and the place has a friendly atmosphere.
The extreme heat of our first night was modified, and during the early part of the week it was not bad. Then for the last three nights and two days, we have had a roaring south-easter. That is still a fine wind, and barring laying the ‘table-cloth’ on Table Mt, the sky remains clear. It dropped during the night and to-day promises to be very hot again.
Herbert is reading with pleasure, Street’s book, “Hitler’s Whistle”. He has read chunks of it out to me, and it sounds most interesting. If any of you have not come across it, let me explain that it is the diary of his farm in war-time.
I have to go off now to visit Mrs Gerrard, who let us the flat. There are a few minor accounts to be settled, which we agreed to leave over till after we had returned from Elgin.
Its good to hear from Grace that the winter was so mild. I hope you are not being punished by having an extra cold spring.
Thanks to Annette and Grace for air-graphs of 8/2/44, and to Romey for surface letters 124 and 125 of early December, as well as the first air-graph from Montreal, dated 14/2. Its thrilling to hear about her arrival, new job and general circumstances.
Bless you all and my love as always,
LJT
(added at bottom)
My darling Romey,
Now that I am writing you a good many airgraphs, I find it difficult to write personal letters as well, for I feel that everything I say will be so stale. You managed to get a wonderful lot on to this first airgraph from Montreal. I am glad things started so well for you. It must have been a relief to you to get away from Winnipeg under the circumstances. With an interesting job to get your teeth into I hope you will be able to get away from thoughts of things that did not go right. It will be a tremendous joy to get our letter about Montreal and good to know that there will be a copy at home if it does not reach us here before we leave. It is fun shopping and getting things for the dear ones at home.
Much love,
Mother
Family letter from HPV
c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
March 5th 1944. Sunday.
My Dear Annette (name handwritten)
All this week I have buoyed myself by the feeling that there was much matter for letter-writing; and now my mind is a blank. Sad that I made no note of the good things.
Did I tell how I designed methods of tackling the higher parts of Everest? Surely I could not have kept silent on such a fascinating subject; but I cannot remember summarising them. In primis, the invention of an oxygen-boosted cooking stove to replace the Meta or the Primus which gave trouble and no heat over 26,000 feet; next, the use of the Flex-Seal Pressure Cooker which weighs only a few pounds and has no complications (Would that I owned one!); thirdly, the application of Celotex to the keeping of boots unfrozen during the night; and fourthly, the sleeping-sack completely covering the head so that oxygen might be fed to the sleeper, with a box of potash (?) to take up surplus carbon dioxide. Thus:- in primis, the climbers would be able to melt enough snow to get enough to drink instead of going short of water; next, they would be able to have properly cooked meals and real tea; thirdly, they would be able to get their boots on in the mornings without pain and disturbance of the feelings; and lastly they would be able to keep cold away at night, for at present, according to Smythe they lack sufficient oxygen to keep warm. How does Celotex compare in insulating value with eiderdown? with consideration of the weights, of course. If all this is repetition, apologies; but the importance of the inventions is justification.
This day the heat is extreme; overpowering; justifying regrets for electric fans. And we have undertaken to go out to entertain little Miss Gill and her brother. Alas, they have fallen on evil days; no maid still, and it is months since the old one suddenly walked out on them, and Miss C. has phlebitis. Also they had undertaken to produce various literary things, such as articles on birds for an Afrikaans encyclopaedia with illustrations. They have set a limit to the amount that they are prepared to pay for a maid; and the saving is far less than the sum to be made by having more time to give to profit-making enterprises now neglected perforce when they do their own household chores.
It is true that Smythe found that it made his throat sore when he tried breathing oxygen; but maybe one breathes more of it through a mask than when it is mixed up with the air in a sleeping sack.
Monday.
It was sticky walking up to the Gills’ and we regretted having to go: but once there it was pleasant and I think that they were pleased to see us. She had of course risen from her bed and wanted to fuss around; looking ghastly ill. It is sad that they cannot put her into a sanatorium for a few weeks, if only for a complete rest.
This day has been busy. To the flat to get boxes out for the delivery van to pick up; to the club with the gramophone record boxes and a kit-sack; to the Censor’s (this time he was genial; ?softened?); to Stuttafords’ for the purchase of flit or its substitute; to a stationers’ for the purchase of typing-paper and carbons and the like; to the Library to return books; to the Club for 11 o’clock tea; writing of chits; dealing with the delivery-van men and despatch of the box of books and papers to the Censor (at the last moment I found two horrible photos of myself, passport or identity card ones, and included them for the completion of the softening process); ---- and I do believe that is the lot, except for grieving over it all.
I forget what was the exact wording of the stuff in the “Skeptical Gardener”; on the idea that only humus or muck could be good manure. Something like “Anyhow we can’t get horses now and we can get chemists; so we may as well use what we can get out of these.” Absurd. Most of the book gave one the feeling that it was hopeless for anyone else to attempt gardening; anyone but the author; but bits of it were as first class as anything can hope to be. I have found a whole shelf full of books on gardening and agriculture; and among the books in it some good Shtuff.
As I turned away after handing back a book the other day, I heard the girl, a new one, exclaim “Why, it was taken out only today”; whereat another more experienced hurriedly whispered to her; most discouraging. I have not had a book out since Friday; having found that I had five on hand. No detective story for days; at least three days in fact.
Much love
Dad
Airgraph from LJT to Annette (addressed to Miss Annette Townend P.O. Box 111. Bletchley Bucks England)
No 5 March 9th 1944
My darling Annette: your good wishes to Dad were well timed; & reached him on the 7th. He was very pleased. We have to thank you too for a-g of 8/2 rcd on 29/2. Somewhere I know I have written congratulations to you on getting another rise, but I suppose it must have been in a surface letter. Its nice to hear that you are getting on well & have received an ‘indirect bouquet’. They are usually the best sort. We are interested in all your news & like hearing about your friends. Its a pity Peggy Christie has gone so far away. We always remember the two of you looking out of the train window when you left for Paris. You looked like an advirtisement of “Come to the Seaside”. Now it begins to feel really as if we are set for home. We have been busy shopping all week, & I have been lucky enough to find you an overcoat of Scotch tweed, which though not quite so heavy as I would have liked, will be warm & wear for ages. I enjoy shopping for other people quite well, as long as I dont feel rushed, & I made up my mind that these shoppings were important & that I must not grudge giving time to them. I’ve have been busy in office, with rather more varied work, for the Secretary has been away for some days with flu, & I have been sitting at her desk, taking telephone calls & dealing with as many of the visitors as I can, as well as carrying on with the “Hospitality” for army & R.A.F. Five amusing young men, R.A.Fs from Rhodesia, came in about five minutes to five last evening, all friends, & keen as mustard to take advantage of all the blubs & organizations for keeping men on leave amused. Its nice when they react like that. Some are not responsive, & dont want to be helped or looked after. There has been a frightful fire raging on the other (east) side of Table Mt. During the first three days of this week. It was started by a picnicker’s fire, and at one time threatened the upper plantations of Kirstenbosch Gardens. Hundreds of men have been fighting it, but with rock cliffs as steep as those on the Mountain, its often impossible to follow or cut off the fire, little pockets remain, and blaze up again, when it seems that it has been controlled. We have had all sorts of weather; it was almost as hot & sticky as Bengal on Sunday, after a fine 3 day south-easter. The next three days were fine and getting cooler, with fog yesterday morning, and a cold south-easter sprang up last night, with a cloudy grey sky and temperature low enough to make woolen clothes acceptable.
Like you I am content with a moderate degree of success in anything I take up. I wish Dad could have the same attitude, for it would make life much less exhausting for him. He is pretty well. It makes such a difference to him whether he has a fairly good night’s sleep or not. Sometimes he lies awake for hours, and one cant find any special reason for it. I know its bad for him to discuss Indian affairs in the evening. It always seems to set his mind working in a way that cant be dimmed. Its pleasant that there are some nice men staying in the club for him to talk to. We got the thrilling news that H.D. & Winsome want to get home this summer, a couple of days ago. If Aunt could possibly spare “Poop’s Corner” for us, I think it would be a nice arrangement. I could be completely responsible for keeping it in order, and if we “rented it” I suppose we should be able to get fuel for the stove. The jam-factory will be the difficulty. Winsome & I ought to be able to run the house & help with Aunt’s other activities easily, and so get her away for a good holiday. Dad is still reading books about farming with pleasure. Street’s book, “Hitler’s Whistle” is most interesting. He read a lot of it to me. There are lots of comic things in it, as well as serious information about war-time farming f& ideas about the future. We both feel proud that you & Romey both started your own careers in the world before you were twenty-one. Best love Mother
Family letter from LJT No 10
Settlers’ Club
Cape Town.
March 11th 1944.
My Dears,
This week has flown by at an astonishing rate. It has mostly been taken up by work and shopping, and happily the latter ploy has gone unexpectedly well. My most notable achievement was to find a dark brown tailored coat and skirt in my size, nicely cut and of good material that feels like pre-war wool, for five guineas. It was in a tiny shop too, which I only went into because it was at the entry to a huge block of flats, where we were to meet the old Dr and Mrs Davies whom we liked so much in Elgin, for morning tea. I had searched the whole town and found nothing. I had five minutes to kill before the appointment, and there I found the treasure.
Usually I dislike shopping, but I have rather enjoyed it recently. I have not allowed myself to feel hurried or think of it as a waste of time, and it is something of a treat to find the shops so much better stocked.
In office I have been enjoying myself too. Miss Bean’s secretary has been away for a few days with flu, so I have been doing a lot of telephoning and interviewing people, and other things which she usually copes with. The interviewing of R.A.F, and military men wanting hospitality, is becoming quite routine, and that has a very human interest too. One man, much older than the ordinary run of the R.A.F. lads, and obviously a gentleman, I felt sorry for. He obviously did not want the same amusements as most of the others, so I asked him to lunch with us, and have fixed up one or two things for him privately. He is going out to Kirstenbosch with me to-morrow, to join the Cramer-Roberts family in a walk and picnic. We have had other people to lunch and have been out on one or two evenings. On Thursday Mrs Cramer-Roberts gave a nice little supper-party, but unfortunately it tired H. very much. Its rather a long bus drive there and back, and I think he had been running about too much all day. However a quiet day yesterday set him up again. To-day is his birthday, which we have not thought of celebrating in any special way. Its a particularly lovely day, after rather vari-able weather, so we plan to go a walk on the foot of Table Mt after tea.
The news that Harry and Winsome are also hoping to get back to England this summer is most thrilling. It will be like old times to have so many of us together again.
We are finding this club far more entertaining as regards company now than we did when we were staying here last October. The specially charming couple from N. Rhodesia are leaving on Monday sad to say. We shall miss them. Mr. Kitching is a civil servant and like all the Colonial Service, has served in many places. He was in Iraq early in his career, and can be most interesting about his experiences there, and the things he learnt there about Arabia. Like everyone who knew her, he has an enormous admiration for Gertrude Bell. I asked him about Lawrence, whom he does not admire much. He says he was a gallant gentleman, but that he made many mistakes and did not know half as much about the Arabs as he thought he did, and was not willing to learn from anyone else. His name even a short while after his famous career as a leader of Arabs, was not half so well known and respected amongst the Arabs as those of several other Englishmen of whom the outside world never hears. He gave us examples with names attached; the sort of thing about which it is so fascinating to hear at first hand.
A terrible fire raged on the eastern side of Table Mountain for the first three days of this week. Its sad to see the great cliffs scorched brown: all their trimmings of vegetation gone. I was thankful to see that it had started well up the mountain, and by tremendous efforts, the fire was prevented from spreading downwards, and destroying all the pine woods and plantations of gum trees. The cliffs of the upper third of the mountain are almost perpendicular, except where water, trickling down, has cut gorges or kloofs. There are three such above Kirstenbosch, up which the fire raced, and for a while it was feared that it would spread over the top of the mountain. One of the dangers and difficulties of fire fighting in such places, is that the extreme heat makes the rocks explode and they go off like bombs, with a violence capable of doing grievous hurt to people.
Will you forgive a short letter this week? I am going out for most of the day to-morrow, and must stop now, for other people will be taking their afternoon siestas and I don’t know how much this typing might annoy our neighbours.
Best love to you all,
LJT
My darling Annette – I’ve just finished an Air-graph to you – and this is just by way of greeting and affection - This letter should be dated 11th March. I mistook the date and so failed to give Dad birthday greetings. He is 56 to-day – I have not invented any “treat” for him – There is really nothing one can do. He gets tired if he makes any sort of outing or expedition poor darling and I have not been able to think of anything to give him for a present. I wish we could find some method of making him stronger. I always have an idea that there is some irritation at the back of his mind or soul, which is the root cause of his illness and prevents him getting well as other people do after dysentry and such – The great question is how to find out about it!
Best love, my dear. How I wish I could see you!
Mother
Family letter from HPV
c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
March 12th 1944. Sunday
My Dear Annette (name handwritten)
Joan has gone out to Kirstenbosch for a picnic; left at ten and will return at some time unfixed. I feared to go. The bus drive is a rackety business and takes about half an hour; and I found the shorter drive out to the Cramer Roberts for supper on Thursday more than I wanted in the way of exhaustion. It was a disastrous trip; for it left me dead beat and the next day I was too limp to do anything.
The week has for me been a full one; but it must be remembered that a day is full for me if it has anything in it at all. Many things to do in connection with possible departure. Such as recovering my shoes and Joan’s from the repair shop, visiting the post-office, purchasing fruit and biscuits, and getting books from the Library on Tuesday. (What I did on Monday, I cannot imagine; but there was something, for I was too busy to get round to the bootshop) Wednesday evening after dinner saw us visiting the place where the Pierneefs stayed when they were here, to have a chat with Miss Davies, Edward Groth’s secretary; she is lively and she lent me three or four copies of the New Yorker; tall, slim, with long face and long hands; we came to the conclusion that she was exceptionally goodlooking. Thursday was my day for seeing the Censor again; he has undoubtedly been softened - did I say that I had left the dying duck photo on top of the box in the hope that it might engender charity in him? --- but he decided to impound three picture postcards and a map of the Cape Peninsular which had been in the envelope with the photo. The postcards are sold in the shops with a guarantee that the censor will let them pass through the post; and the map offended only because it had on the back a small view of some mountain somewhere on some coast. When I remarked that my wife could if she wished buy more of the postcards at any shop and get another copy of the map from the Information Bureau, he handed the whole lot back to me; but I said that I should see that they did not leave South Africa. It is hard on the Censors who come in for a lot of abuse on the strength of incidents like that; but, as I told Joan who was inclined to indignation, it is better for them to be over strict than to run risks. I carried back with me the two lots of gramophone-records duly sealed as passed for export; rather heavy; and added to them two books from the Library. Later I went down to Sir Roger Wilson’s office to say that I could not, as arranged the previous day when they lunched with us, come to have a talk with him; and then I returned to the Club where Joan’s protege from the Air Force came to lunch. He stayed afterwards till 2 30 after she had gone off to office before 2 o’clock, getting information about walks. He suffers from acrophobia and cannot endure to look down any steep place (for instance it does him in to look down any steps and he cannot look up at Table Mountain without vertigo), so it is not too easy to pick out any walk near the town which he can do. Of course he is in the ground force.
The Cramer Roberts show on top of this was a knockout; though if I am not wrong I have not survived any of our trips to their place unaffected. I slept badly and next day was a rag. Except for a visit to the firm which moves our boxes (to tell them to fetch the box from the censor’s) and to the Library on the way back I did nothing; lay on my bed too tired to read even and after lunch slept heavily. The protege came in after dinner; but with the help of the nice Kitchings (or –engs?) this visit went off well and left me no more tired than when it started. But the next morning saw me still dim. Joan remembered, as I did not, that it was my birthday. I celebrated it mostly by lying on my bed most of the day. We took the Kitchings for a walk among the pinewoods; very hot except in the shade. After dinner I sat in the wireless lounge where gradually there gathered a great assembly; till after the 9 o’clock wireless. A cool night which was pleasant; I had opportunity to appreciate it, for I woke up every ten minutes or so during much of the night. Why? I cannot say why. Not because of the mosquito nets; which are welcome, though cramped. These days by the way the flies are a nuisance; not numerous but determined to sit on one’s head.
What more? one morning I accompanied Joan to buy me a pair of slippers and the family six pairs of veldt-schoon; which looked a monstrous lot, piled up on the floor. Another I took a hat to be cleaned; and Joan’s writing case for repairs. And I also went to various shops trying to find the nicotine paste which the doctor advised for Joan’s hand on which there is a patch like Bengal rot. Sad that the pages should have shifted in the typewriter. I must have jerked the lever controlling the grip. None of the chemists had the paste and the last of them says that there is no chance of getting it because there is no nicotine in Cape Town. Why not, when there is so much tobacco grown in Rhodesia? Anyhow I went yesterday into the Reading Room in the Library and searched through old numbers of the Readers Digest till I found that article about the magic effects of half and half phenol and camphor; and copied out the relevancies. Later the old bird who runs the Botanic Gardens opposite said that he had a mixture of some dye and camphor which works like a charm and offered to bring it over; if he does not we shall essay to get the phenol mixture made up tomorrow.
The small boy from Nairobi asserts that on their farm there are hiccups as well as the usual things like cows pigs and sheep; a cryptic remark which had to be resolved by his mother who says that the hiccups are peacocks. This talk of livestock reminds me that the Club cat, a handsome ordinary cat, sleeps more than any cat before known; coiled he resembles those ammonite fossils which are so thick in the clay on the beach below the Warren near Folkstone; and I could not help wondering whether further examination of the fossils would not prove them to be cats, smothered in their sleep. And talking about sleep, the S.A.W.A.S. secretary received a letter last week from the mother of a S.W.A.N. which said “My daughter is sleeping with a naval rating. Do you approve?” The approval would have made a difference. There was someone here a little while ago who told a tale of a small son who cross-examined a young man visiting the house; in Rhodesia. The conversation ended like this: “Are you married?” – “No. I’m not married.” – “Then who do you sleep with?”
A book on Famous Farmers contains the remark that in the nineties the farmers of England were too pig-headed to be pig-minded; charming paradox. Not so good when it said that at some time or other (now forgotten) farmers exchanged rule of thumb for the rule of three and adopted scientific methods.
My restful morning fell short of the ideal owing to the arrival of young Blake Pinnell. Lately the papers have had a lot on the subject of a rag in which the University combined to remove all the clothes save drawers from a fresher, publicly, because he did not accept gladly their hazing; Blake thought it a great pity that the papers made such a fuss but loyally abstained from thoughts about the mental state of the perpetrators. It looks to me as if here we find the explanation of the usual South African contempt for book learning; if the more educated go to their universities and if this futile ragging is a measure of their education, then obviously it is a thing that may well be omitted.
P.S. Joan refused to use a titbit that I left for her; the tale of the clam. It is some days ago that a paragraph appeared in the Cape Times to say that a clam had been picked up wearing a set of false teeth; there was a photo showing it like an open mouth fully toothed in the lower jaw. We felt that Walt Disney ought to have given teeth to his oyster in Pinnochio. A week later came the thrilling news than an owner had been found for the teeth. Not merely a claimant. Apparently tooth-owners often lose them in the waves or perhaps when paddling; for a letter was published to say that the writer having dropped his false teeth among seaweed found them after search under some of the seaweed and another set alongside them. Believe it or not; me, I have opted for the not.
Much love
Dad
Airgraph from LJT to Grace Townend (addressed to Mrs A.B.S. Townend. Highways. Great Leighs. Nr Chelmsford. Essex. England)
No 6 March 13th 1944
Dearest Grace, We are very very sorry to hear of Peg’s disaster. Poor girl! It is wretched luck! It must have been a most worrying time for you, especially with the near-by air-raid the next night. You will certainly need a holiday when we get home. Its exciting to hear that H.D. & Winsome are also coming home as soon as they can ‘get’. I wonder whether the thought of having us all at Highways for a while appals you. I feel that when W. & I have just got the hang of things, we shall be able to run the house between us for a few weeks while you go away for a good rest & change. I dont know how you will think it best to arrange accomodation, but Herbert & I would be pleased to live in “Byways” if it suited you. I dont know how early in the year you begin the jam-making, or whether there is any other possible place for it. How good you are to us all! I’m awfully sorry to hear that Christine lost her baby. It might have eased the relationship between her & Gwen. At last I have finished my shopping, except for a few little odds like soap shampoo powders, and I have devoted some thought to the best method of packing, whenever I had had a few spare minutes to-day. Voyaging nowadays, I imagine that once on board one has to do with the suit case one takes in the cabin, & not expect to get at ones trunks, as one can do in peace time. Herbert has been busy about all sorts of things connected with our journey, & has got rather tired by that & the fact that we have been out, or had guests here several times. From his point of view the drawback to many of the nicest walks here is that one has to spend half an hour or so in a train or bus to get to the starting point, & to get back again. That extra time is just too much for him. I was out most of the day yesterday, meeting Esme Cramer Roberts & her 12 year old daughter at Kirstenbosch Gardens & taking a picnic lunch up on to some lower mountains, which form, as it were, the north-east leg of Table Mt. A nice ground staff Air Force man, who is down here on leave went with us, & seemed to enjoy his day very much. It was specially nice, because there was some cloud about, which gave the extra light & shade to the landscape, & so increased its beauty. Also it was cooler than it has been during the last month or two. Sat. Was H’s birthday, which we did not celebrate in any special way. My present to him was of a most utilitarian nature: a pair of braces, a pair of sock suspenders, & a couple of note books. He wants an astral globe. I wonder whether such things are obtainable in England. If they are I have promised to try to get him one. There is a sewing machine available in this club, & as soon as I get time I am going to run up a couple of gay check aprons, ready for wear at Highways. The news in the papers has been consistently good for some days now that is makes one feel the Allies are making good headway. The one blot is the miners’ strike. When one reads of the strange mixed race of Central European peasants who form the bulk of the labour in the mines in the U.S.A. one is not surprised that they care little about the war & only for their own advantage, but one would think the British miners would have the defeat of Hitler nearer their hearts. H. is still reading books about farming, soils & crops & found some lovely expressions about wheat & the harvesting & grinding etc of it, in an otherwise not very good book he was reading last night. Do you know the expression ‘barm’ meaning yeast? We had never heard it, but it was familiar to Dr & Mrs Davies who lunched with us to-day, & who are north-country people. It was grand to hear that Romey had settled down so quickly & apparently so happily in Montreal. Its awfully nice for her having not only Stairs cousins there, but also John Averill. We both send sympathy to Peg, as well as love to her & to all of you. Joan.
Family letter from LJT No 11
The Settlers’ Club
Cape Town.
March 19th 1944
My Dears,
Each week I wonder how many more of these family letters I shall write. We shall soon be at the end of our first month in this Club. Yesterday I was wrestling with some packing, complicated by the fact that the shop which supplied me with a packing case, have not cut it down to the dimensions indicated, so that I have spare space and dont quite know what to put in it, or whether it is worth trying to get the box altered. This is an astonishingly difficult town in which to get jobs done, or things moved from place to place. There is no Carter Patterson or local carrier, but only the big baggage agents, who do not like dealing with a single box, and charge for such work accordingly. In India we should just say “Call a Carpenter”, and in an hour or two the job would be done, not very well, perhaps, but well enough.
It was a busy day yesterday, for Edward Groth rang up at breakfast time to know whether we could lunch with him at Seapoint. He was off to Pretoria for ten days, leaving by the evening train. As we were already being taken to tea with some rather notable people in Claremont which is one of the suburbs on the inland side of the Mountain, Herbert feared it would be too tiring for him, but I went , fearing that we might not see him again, though it is probable that we shall be here for some weeks more. We went out to Seapoint in his car, and he dropped me back at the Station in time to meet Herbert just after three o’clock, and catch a train to Claremont, where Mrs Williamson met us with a car, and drove us up to the house of a Mr and Mrs Bolus. These people are well known in the scientific world of S. Africa. Mr. Bolus’ father built up the faculty of Botany at the Cape Town University, and left a considerable sum of money to found a herbarium. His daughter-in-law, the present Mrs Bolus, came from England (Cambridge, I think) to be his assistant and, very properly, married his son. She still works daily at the University, though she must be over sixty, I should think. We had a delightful plant-talk, in which she told me many things about the S. African Flora, and then asked me many questions about the Himalayan things, as well as N. Zealand and Australia, before we moved on to more general topics. Herbert was busy talking to our host and Mrs Williamson, and I fancy I heard murmurs of humus and allied subjects. When we rose to make our adieus, they said “When will you come to see us again” and then and there fixed the next Saturday. Its nice when interesting people like that genuinely want one to come again.
Mrs Williamson herself is a charming little person, whom we first met on a day out on the Mountain, with Marischal Murray. She has a tiny cottage out on the Hills near Elgin, and we heard a delightful tale about her, which she confirmed. During the holidays, she had her own three children and several others there. The arrangements for getting milk which had been easy previously, ceased to function for some reason, so taking one of the children with her, she walked about five miles over the hills to a farm where there were a lot of cows. Here she put her case to the old Afrikaner farmer. “You have a great many cows and no children. I have a great many children and no cows. Can we not come to an arrangement?” So they sat down to a bowl of coffee and some slow thinking, with the result that presently she and her child walked home driving a cow.
We had sundowners with her and her mother on Monday at the residential club, where the latter lives. She is a curious character, American by birth, married young to a wealthy South African, and (as I gather) kept in true Victorian subjection, heavily coated with sugar: she was left a widow when already elderly. Her first outburst was an orgy of speculation, in which her family have a suspicion that she lost heavily. Then she gave up speculating, and took to prospecting. Early in the war she spent six months or more prospecting for various minerals in Griqualand, camping out with a van and tents. She did actually succeed in working and shipping a good quantity of some mineral required by the war effort, but her daughter says she was very far from making a profit, much less a fortune out of it. To look at her and talk to her sitting in her sophisticated club, one would never suspect her of the taste or ability to do such things.
Yesterday I was dropped to spend the evening and have supper with Esme Cramer Roberts, while Herbert went home, and by the time I eventually got home, I felt quite tired. Luckily we had an extra hour in bed this morning, for we have switched off summer-time. Everyone is glad, for lately it has been still almost dark at 7 o’clock. On Friday, when I went as usual to do the early morning waitress duty at the Soldier’s Club, the stars were still shining when we left the house at twenty to seven.
In some ways it has been rather a botanical week, for we had the Professor of Botany, Adamson, and his wife to dinner on Friday. They are dear people, and we always enjoy their company. Earlier in the week we had another little party; Miss Davies, the American girl who arrived in Pretoria when we were there, to take up the duties of Secretary-Stenographer to the Minister. In the absence of a Minister, she is working for Edward Groth. She is a charming girl from the Southern States and she has the fine feature and slender build, which give an air of breeding to so many of the women from the South. She is an entertaining talker too, and made up for the rather silent little W.R.N. who was our other guest. We asked an interesting girl to join us after dinner who is staying at the Club, and who is on leave from a Government job in Bechuanaland, where she has been working for eight years. She is at an experimental agricultural place, where attempts are being made to improve grass and other fodder crops, and induce the natives to do something about conserving and improving the land.
This club really is a meeting place for people, not only from all over Africa, but from all over the world, though some of the latest arrivals are two M-Ps and their wives. One couple are sitting at our table. The husband is one of those tiresome men who ‘knows’ everything and who, to judge from his conversation, is always telling other people how wrong they are. He has told us some quite interesting things about farming in this country, but its scarcely possible to discuss anything with him, for he is not willing to look at a fresh idea. His wife has a certain air of importance from having to do a good deal of public work, but, though pleasant enough, she is fundamentally stupid, sad to say! The other couple are far more agreable and intelligent, also not apparantly burdened with a feeling of their own importance.
Last Sunday - - a week ago to-day, I had a lovely day out. Leaving here soon after nine o’clock, I picked up the R.A.F. man I was sorry for, at the Soldiers’ Club, and we went by bus to Kirstenbosch, where we drank morning tea, and were joined later by Esme Cramer-Roberts and her school-girl daughter. We walked through the gardens and up through the woods that clothe the lower slopes of the hills which form the south-west “leg” of Table Mountain, so to speak. High up in a clear space shaded by rocks, we had our picnic lunch, with a fine view spread below us, glimpses of False Bay and the Hottentots Hollands Mts looking far away in the heat haze. We lazed about so long up there that it was almost 4.30 by the time we got back to the tea house in the gardens, and as soon as I had had tea, I left the others and went to catch a bus, since they only run once an hour. Mr Gibbs stayed to go back to supper with Esme and seems to have enjoyed his day greatly.
Office work goes on as usual, but the week is notable for the fact that I have finished the main block of the refiling and have renumbered all the files. Herbert has typed duplicate lists for me most beautifully, one of which is in the register, and the other pinned up inside the cupboard door. I have still work to do with clearing out old papers, but now only connected with the 20 different branches of the Cape Command, which are very easy, and need no arranging, only useless papers weeding out. The filing job seems to have taken an immense time, but of course I have not given my whole time to it. There are several jobs I do as well.
Everyone is extra busy now over this huge Cavalcade show which starts on Saturday. I have promised to do five morning duties at the S.A.W.A.S. enquiry booth, provided I am still here. Heaven knows whether I shall be able to answer the questions.
Herbert has been busy with all manner of small jobs. Taking things to be repaired seems to swallow up time in an astonishing way in this town. Then invariably if you go to fetch your possession on the day indicated, it is not done, and you must go back again.
Speaking for myself my mind is dwelling much in the future, happy in the thought of seeing most of you again. I was just going to write ‘all’ when I realized that copies of this go to Canada and India, and meetings with the dear people from those countries must still be delayed.
Best love to you all
LJT
(handwritten addition at end of letter)
My darling Annette –
I’m in rather a bad mood for writing personal letters – I suppose its because I am busy and perhaps because I have, to-day, some knotty problems connected with packing on my mind – I have not yet thought them out to my own satisfaction – Love as always –
Mother
Family letter from HPV
c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
March 19th 1944. Sunday.
My Dear Annette (name handwritten)
My share of the packing is to stand by doing nothing and eventually to feel quite exhausted by the sight of all that Joan is doing. I have done a certain amount of running about and fixing up such things as English notes for the voyage (maximum £10 each and every number to be noted on the permit); but the total merit acquired by me is lamentably small. On the other hand the onset of weariness with so little cause has brought a recurrence of gloom; by doing nothing during recent days I had kidded myself into a belief that I was stronger. And there was some basis for the boasting; I feel the cold much less than I did, having one blanket only over me during nights sufficiently cold for Joan to pull up a second.
Joan took back to the tailor the costume made by him last year to have alterations made in a skirt which never set right; he remarked in a superior way, defending his skill, “Ladies do alter their figures at this time of year: some grow fat and others thin.” Well said! Such sayings please her. Another not like it was produced by an American officer, navy, at the office the other afternoon; five of them sought what things were to be done in Cape Town and were asked to define themselves as Van Manen used to say - “Did they like scenery, for instance?” “Well” said one of them, “I like scenery all right so long as it is interrupted with sufficient bars.” Interrupted? no, he said, “interspersed”, and I have spoilt the tale.
Again this week we were evicted for a couple of nights; by the fumigation of the room with gas --- “Giffgass” as the notice on the door said, or poison-gas. A fit mate for the apple goose. The cause was the appearance some time ago of bugs, brought in among luggage by a traveller from up-country; all else failing, the gas was tried, and the operation has to be repeated because the eggs take eleven days to hatch out. To me the argument seems fallacious; surely there ought to be continuous fumigation for eleven days, lest in the interval newly hatched lay new eggs; but maybe it takes eleven days for the infants to mature to egg-laying stage. For me it meant that the working portion of two days each time went in transferring my effects from one room to another and back again.
A few mornings back I found my handkerchief under my mattress; thus acquiring a new reputation for absent-mindedness quite undeserved. I must have thrust it there while tucking in my mosquito net. But guilty of absent-mindedness I really was yesterday, when after being asked to bring Joan’s coat down to the station (thus saving her the trouble of carrying it out to Sea Point first) I left it on the bed; later, after dinner, it occurred to me that at least I might take it down to the bus terminus so that her walk up to the club might have the comfort of it, but I went down to meet her without it after all. Acquiring merit, but not much.
A chair broke beneath me in this bedroom; when I went to report it, expecting annoyance at the least, I met with remorse; “you must think that everything in the room is coming to bits” said the Secretary; and it is true that the bed shook like a hammock and had hurriedly to be replaced by a new one. Furniture of a sort can be bought still at a price; but the club authorities must find it hard to run the place, since glass and china are not to be had easily.
Among books I have found the Living Soil (which might be subtitled “in Praise of Compost”) interesting and recommend it strongly; I had been trying to get hold of it for the last four months and it came into the Library recently. But, Lord! to see the way these enthusiasts repeat each other even when they are wrong! this work has statements in it about Bengal which are so wrong that one cannot believe even an enthusiast to have been honest in making them. This makes one suspect the truth of the rest of the book. Interesting also in a way was Ficklen’s Handbook of Fist-Puppets, telling how to make and run them; I can imagine Richard and Gavin taking the things up with zest in earlier days. Other books, several on gardening, have been poor on the whole; but a good condemnation by a yokel of modern foods (in East Anglia) as being “all barmed up with them there chemicals”. A phrase which pleased Joan greatly.
The relevance of the Clifton Park System of Farming book lies in the possibility of reviving the garden by the use of turf taken from a field and composted down on Indore Compost lines (to get rid of any wire worm or weed-seeds) and the regressing of the field with suitable grass-seeds and chickory etc. There ought to be much richness accumulated in the grass where the chickens have been. But in heat such as we have been having with interval of coolth it is impossible to picture oneself cutting turf. Hardy folk South Africans. They delight in labouring on the cricket field in the heat and discuss it afterwards with relish; especially members of parliament. “Honestly” --- not mere vote catching.
Much love
Dad
Airgraph from HPV to Annette (addressed to Miss Annette Townend P.O. Box 111 Bletchley Bucks England)
22/3/44
My dear Annette,
First, belated, my warm thanks for your birthday wishes. It was in my mind to send you an airgraph about them last week but the two-birds-with-one-stone idea of my writing to you this week instead of your mother prevailed. I forgot about the day but she remembered; also she gave me various small gifts such as agreeable braces with real elastic in them – “Chinese” but that may mean Japanese-organised.
Much packing this week; I held aloof, not being able to help. In particular a big wooden case for the gramophone etc., which caused great difficulty; the shop which supplied it as a favour, made it much too big and the problem was how to fill it without making it too heavy to handle. It was solved by the intervention of Mr. Mutter, the caretaker at the Flats who cut it down neatly; he is or was by trade a carpenter and he has the most engaging outfit of tools in an outhouse. Yet I am conscious that for me much of the lure has departed from such things, with the realization that never should I use them even if I owned them. The basis for the make-believe has fallen away.
Now just when all seemed to be sorted out and all on train for the final packing (to be rushed through when passages are allotted to us) Cooks inform me that the last ship out set a limit on the number of packages allowed to each passenger; one in cabin, one in Wanted on Voyage and one in hold. A knockout for those who have carefully divided their stuff into small suit-cases which they can handle themselves. There must be further enquiries: but some repacking seems necessary as a precaution in any case; if we must leave things in store to be sent on when freight improves they should be such as can best be spared.
My contribution to departure is to negotiate with the Bank about money. Permits to carry notes are necessary; and the amount is limited to £10 each. Numbers of the notes specified in writing on the permit; passports endorsed. There remains the question of Travellers Cheques or Letters of Credit. There have been visits also to shops which mend or clean; and to chemists. It took five visits to one of them before I got a prescription for Joan made up; searchings for ingredients.
Joan has taken on the task of going to help most mornings at the ‘Cavalcade’, a sort of Aldershot Tattoo, intended to raise £150000 for war-funds and incidentally to stimulate ardour for the war among those now indifferent. As a preliminary she has started a cold which threatens to be nasty. She misses her favourite cold-cure, now unobtainable. We had intended to go up Table Mountain yesterday, by the cable-car, and to picnic; but her cold prevented it. I have not been up at all. I was glad not to go, for I felt limp; as I have done since Saturday, without special cause, unless it be the hot weather. On Saturday afternoon, by the way, we went out to Kenilworth to tea with a Mrs. Bolus who is a great authority on South African Botany; a trip much enjoyed by Joan who had good talk and who so pleased Mrs. B. that she asked us to go again on Saturday next. This morning we are to visit the Parliament; to please an M.P. who with his wife sits at our table. They take such a simple pleasure in the thought that we shall enjoy the experience as to debar us from saying what I at least think – that Parliamentary proceedings are deadly dull unless something exceptional is on. No room for comment on your letter. I like the idea that you need a partner for playing the recorder; a competitive thing like golf. Much love Dad
From LJT to Annette
The Settler’s Club
Cape Town
March 26th 1944
My darling Annette
It was great fun to get your letter telling of your Christmas doings with the Bous family, and all the absurdities you enjoyed.
The story of your office Christmas trees has been shared and enjoyed by many of our friends, especially by the Cramer-Roberts ménage, who made such ingenius Christmas decorations themselves.
I am so very glad that the parcels I sent off from Jack’s in Pretoria in August, eventually turned up just in time for Christmas – and the Sept. ones a little later – I think those were the ones that had the concentrated orange stuff in them – I shall be interested to hear how it travelled and what it was like.
To-day I suddenly felt that I must get a great deal further on with the packing – for there were still so many little things to do – enough to make a nasty rush if we should only have a few hours notice of departure – Its a lot different from India where there were always so many people to help –
In a few minutes I am going downstairs to listen to Winston’s speech – so I’ll say good-night and best love – Mother
Family letter from LJT No 12
The Settlers’ Club.
Cape Town.
March 26th 1944
My Dears,
This is going to be a short letter, for I have a lot of things to do. It is also going to be the last “newspaper” letter for the time being, because I have made up my mind to pack my typewriter, and for writing to Grace and the daughters, I shall use Herbert’s. Being smaller than this one, it will only do three or four copies. Having a lot of small things about is obviously going to be a nuisance in these days of crowded travelling.
After a gap of seven weeks, a big English mail arrived yesterday. It was such a pleasure to get letters from so many of the family, and more detailed descriptions of Christmas from Grace and Annette. Besides those from Grace and Annette, there were others from May, Bous, Susie (Green) Peg, Joey and Gavin, for all of which many thanks.
My enjoyment of life during the past week, has been somewhat marred by a tiresome cold, but I am glad to say it has practically gone. I felt the first signs of it on Monday, as a slight sore throat. I perhaps didn’t improve it in that early stage, by taking young Blake Pinnell (whose parents we know in India) to a cinema, after he had dined with us here. He is starting his second year at the University of Cape Town, and has settled happily into life in this country. He was full of accounts of the ‘Varsity Rag, which had taken place the previous Saturday, with processions of decorated lorries, football and base ball matches, and a good deal of miscellaneous ragging and fighting. All of this had passed un-noticed by us, and I felt we must have made a poor showing in Blakes’ eyes. After dinner he and I went to see “Lassie Come Home”, a technicolor film with a collie as the chief character. It was a pleasant show, but never moved me to tears, as I was warned it would do. Actually the illusion never got across.
The box about which I was worried in my last weeks letter, was dealt with by the skill and kindness of Mr. Mutter, caretaker at the Victoria Flats, who cut it down for me. We have now decided to collect all our luggage at Cook’s in case we get very short notice of our move when the time comes, and that it is why I have things I want to do to-day, for next week I am working at “Cavalcade” every day except Monday.
I was out at the S.A.W.A.S. section for most of Friday morning, after getting up at 6 o’clock and waiting at the Soldier’s Club till 9.30, so I felt a bit tired by the evening. It so happened we went to “sundowners” with the Gills that day, but it was not a party, and so much less exhausting than might have been.
Yesterday was the opening day of “Cavalcade” and I went down there at 9 o’clock, to help put the series of tableaux representing the S.A.W.A.S. main activities into order. Some groups are made up of dummy figures borrowed from the shops. Others are living people at work in some way or other. As always on the first day of a big show like that lots of questions crop up, and there are a constant series of small things to attend to. I had a sandwich lunch down there, and left at 2. P.m., which gave me time to get home and have a few minutes rest, before starting out with Herbert to go to tea once more with the delightful old couple with whom we had spent the previous Saturday afternoon. We enjoyed their company just as much as we had the previous time, and met some other interesting people there. As last week, so this time, Herbert went home to dinner, and I went to Esme Cramer-Roberts. She is a good “tailoress” and had invited me to take a velveteen coat which had never looked right, and which she immediately said needed the sleeves setting in differently. She tacked them in for me, and has made the coat look quite different.
After weeks and weeks of fine weather we had a little rain on Friday afternoon, and wind and heavy rain yesterday evening. Of course the country needs it, but its hard luck for “Cavalcade”, and must have kept a lot of people away last night. The exhibits are mostly under cover of some sort, at least those that would be damaged by weather, but the buildings are just wooden frames with gunny sides and tarpaulin roofs, camouflaged in this way or that. Its not raining this morning but its still cloudy. However it looks as if it may clear later, and its not very likely to be wet again to-morrow, for its rare to get many hours of rain at this time of year in the Cape.
I am just finishing an interesting book, “Smuts and Swastika”.
Love to you all
LJT
Darling Romey, your presents of hot water bottles enthralled Aunt and everyone. They have all told me about them. Hope you are well and happy,
Much love,
Mother
Family letter from HPV
c/o Standard Bank of South Africa,
Cape Town.
March 29th 1944 Wednesday.
My dear Annette (name handwritten)
It was foolish of me not to post Joan’s letters on Monday instead saying that I should add mine. The result has been delay; for I have been too full of work to write and really am too occupied now to set about it.
The cause of this was realization that if a sudden offer of passages came at 24 hours notice (as has happened to some in the past) we should not be ready. Censor to be finished with, money to be fixed up, various things to be done about boxes, and a good deal of actual packing. We had kept papers which it was convenient to have for reference instead of passing them through the censor’s office; now we have got them all together and I took them down to the office yesterday. The Bank announced that it would take only 15 or 20 minutes to get travellers’ cheques; it actually took 55. Before that I had spent 30 another dayover getting notes and permits to export them. Much time goes to waste because it is difficult to get proper information; the news given at one counter is contradicted at another. However the money arrangements are now made except for drafting out letters about transferring my balance to England (to be signed at the last moment) and another about my leave pay which will have to be arranged by the Government at Pretoria.
The boxes are a nuisance. We inquired about the restriction on their number; and the Ministry of Transport said that the last ship had had such restrictions but that it was the only one to have them, up to date. We are chancing that any by which we go will not have them. As to another statement by Cooks that every article of baggage must have painted on it full name and address in England it turns out that this is correct of transports only: but there is no saying that we may not get an offer of passages on a transport and so I have set to work on the task of painting. I tried to get Cooks to do it, but they said that they could not unless I provided paint and brushes, which meant really a refusal. So I cut a stencil out of stiff paper (an envelope) and for the past two days have worked incessantly almost at the job. The stencil was a great success at first but now has buckled or warped and is hard to use. Ten articles finished so far; there are probably as many more.
Then there is a Customs’ regulation which has just come to light (for no one seems to have a complete list of what has to be done by intending passengers) that wooden cases must not be nailed or screwed down but must be fastened with a lock and key. A nuisance of the worst when locks hinges hasps and such are so difficult to get. We have them now but the fitting of them remains; unless Mr. Mutter obliges this will be a toilsome affair, seeing that I have no tools to speak of.
The result of my labours has been that it has not been possible to lie down as usual after lunch; and I have been dead beat these last two nights. Also this morning. Which explains the errors. I forgot to mention that one morning which might have well been spent on the preparations went on typing out the minutes of a meeting of the St. John Association for the wife of the member of Parliament who wanted to have them out in a hurry. When I copy anything I find that I fail to hit the space bar hard enough so that words are run together every now and then; bad for the temper.
Joan is labouring at the Cavalcade each morning and having a sandwich lunch there too. Tiring. The weather has not favoured it; some rain, a lot of cloud and today strong wind. But it seems to be turning out as successfully as anyone hoped. A good show, Joan says. It doesn’t look as if I should get out to it, however; I shall not try unless I can get the boxes fixed up first.
At the march past in the City, with the Mayor taking the salute, comic relief was afforded by a monkey which was the mascot of the Tank Corps; it sat sedately on a tank until just as it passed the saluting base a dog annoyed it so that it stood up and scratched its behind in derision at the dog but towards the Mayor. Like the death of Friday.
For me comic relief in the Gardens has been afforded by a family of dachshunds, two pups very small and tumbling about. It reminded me of the Ruffles’ dachshund at Elgin which is so small that its legs have not grown into its skin; the general effect was that it had forgotten to hitch up its braces and had left its trousers loose round the ankles or under the feet.
Much love
Dad
Airgraph from LJT to Grace Townend (addressed to Mrs. A.B.S. Townend. Highways. Great Leighs. Nr. Chelmsford. Essex. England.)
No 7 March 30th 1944
Dearest Grace: thanks for a-g of 4/3 rcd 21/3 & for letters of 29/12 & 11/1. Thanks also to “your 3” for letters. Annette’s about Christmas doings also arrived at the end of last week. It was grand to hear from you all. I’m glad 2 lots of parcels arrived. Presumably they must have been the Aug. ones from Jacks’ in Pretoria & Sept ones from Futti’s in Jo’burg. The April ones must have been lost. I ordered parcels for you & A last week. They include almonds this time, which I hope will be acceptable. The export permit to take some food stuffs with us has not yet arrived. I’m feeling a little anxious about it. Bicycle pumps & carpet nails are apparently not available anywhere. It has been a busy week for both of us. I have been working at the S.A.W.A.S’s section of Cavalcade both last Sat. & every day this week except Monday, when I had some special work to do in the office. H. went into Cooks’ to enquire about something & they informed him that some ships insist that each piece of baggage must have name & address painted on it. He got paint, cut a stencil & has done the work so well, but it has taken him a long time. He was also told casually by a friend that the customs would not pass any wooden cases fastened down with nails, so he had to search the town for hinges, hasps & locks, & fit them to a wooden case of ours. We have had an excitement present in the parcel line to-day. Romey’s Xmas present for me arrived, more than a month after H’s. Its sweet of her to take so much trouble, & I am so glad the things arrived safely this year. On Saturday I got off early from Cavalcade, & just had time to get back home, have a wash & brush up & ten minutes rest, before going off with H. to have tea with the delightful people with whom we had spent the previous Saturday. I again fixed to have supper with Esme Cramer Roberts, who lives close, so when H, & Mrs Williamson, (who had introduced us to Mr & Mrs Bolus) decided that it was time to go & catch a train, I yielded to the Bolus’s warm invitation to stay longer & tell them more about India. We were so deep in talk that I did not realize how the time had flown, & suddenly discovered that it was a quarter to seven, so had to bid hasty good-bye & scuttle round to Esme’s. I was glad to have a whole day at home on Sunday, & after doing my letters, I practically packed my own & H’s cabin trunks. We heard of some people, not so long ago, had only 4 hours notice to get away, & it made us sit up & think! After the second hasp is fitted to the wooden box to-morrow, I think we could be ready in that number of hours. By the way, ref. Rooms in your house, we rather fancy living in Byways if it suits you, but will of course be content with whatever is most convenient for you. Its frightfully good of you both to have us, & I hope you wont find it an added strain. I am so anxious to prove myself more use than bother. The weather here is now getting an autumnal feel, with fresh nights & mornings. I like it so much better than the very hot summer weather. It was stormy over the week-end, with some rain & a good deal of wind, but it did not do Cavalcade much harm. Enormous crowds are thronging the place daily, & money is pouring in. The Union Defence Force Section has most interesting exhibits. I manage to see a little bit daily, when I get an hour off. Lady Tait, wife of the C-in-C South Atlantic, was helping on our section to-day. Her husband in on transfer, & Robert Burnett comes to take his place next month! I wonder whether he will arrive before we go. It would be fun to see him again. Oh! I forgot to mention that in the most interesting Medical Services Section of Cavalcade, I saw penicillin being grown, & had a long chat with the young man in charge, who sent messages to Romey. He says she is a jolly lucky girl to be on this work. Its good to think of summer coming on & the longer days to outweigh the black-out. Best love. Joan