19361214 Heather to Betty
Monday 14th December 1936 PAX.
Monday 14th December 1936 PAX.
I've been meaning to write to you for positively ages - in fact I keep on noting down things I must tell you (and then losing them!). Ever since I rose from my Couch of sickness I have been meaning to do this, but never has opportunity occurred until now - and now only because it is a Hunting Day, and I meant to be out hunting all day. But I had myself injected for Typhoid, Tetanus, Terra Firma, etc., and T.A.B., in preparation for going to India yesterday, and the result is today that I am not quite as bruite as I might be, and my arm is so stiff that I could not hold the fiery steed. so I stayed at home, and I'M Jolly glad I did, as it has not ceased raining and blowing a gale all day. Gosh, if it freezes tonight, we'll be able to SKATE on the lawn!
I'M toute seule at Pax at the moment parce que mes parentages sont alles a Paris. I escaped going with them, I don't know how quite. I rather wish I had gone actually, as I have had letters from Lydie, Heliane, and Diana Falconer, ail saying they hope to see me, and would get up parties. So I might have had fun, but I don't think much! The parents went off on Friday night by the new method of getting to Paris. They step into a train a Victoria at 10 o'clock at night, and when they open their eyes next morning, they behold the Eiffel Tower. Rubbing their eyes again, and muttering to themselves "Then I did have one over the eight" they read the name of the station, which to their amazement they see is The Coeur de Lion. So they get out of the train and get the Legion d'Honneur. And come back on Tuesday (tomorrow).
Well, I think I will start off by regaling to you what I have done, and in that way I can think of other small things that have happened too, such as getting new kings for England and the Empire, etc.
When I stopped being ill I got up and drove Jamroll over to Reading where I got out. Then I got into a train to Newton Abbott (Devonshire) while Green, Annie and Twm took Jamroll home again. I was not allowed to go in a car because Mum said a car is a Draughty Thing and I might have caught cold and got ill all over again. But that train couldn't have been colder, and I muttered swary words to myself throughout the Journey.. All the heat thing was turned on, all windows shut and everything, but a howling draught came up from under the seat and Froze my Toze. But at last I got to Newton Abbott and hopped out there and was met by Dennis and the Maude's dear black Ford V8. He was too heavenly, and after that filthy train it was doubly so. He thought nothing of the Devonshire hills and simply dashed along through the darkness, and Dennis being a very fast driver, we simply made a black hole and the black atmosphere, and in no time we had mopped up the 25 miles from Newton Abbott to Dartmouth and were quietly sliding down the drive to Redlap.
When I arrived at Redlap I found Cyril and B. were out at a sherry party (actually I knew that before, as Dennis had brought me a note from B.) So I sat down on a woolly hearthrug by the fire.
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Suddenly I noticed that a bit of the hearthrug was a darker shade than the rest of it - and on closer inspection I found this to be a dog. The dog's name is Susan, and she is a beige baby peke, indistinguishable from any forn of dog on account of Much or Superfluous Hair.
As I say, I sat on the hearthrug, and continued to read the book I had been reading while coming along in the train - a book alled Country Calendar which Dad gave me last June for my birthday because it has Lionel Edwards sketches in it. Besides these it has one or two amusing stories in it, with which I will regale you.
One day he (the author) pulled up his motor car suddenly to watch a ploughing match in progress - whereupon a sports car nearly ran into him from behind. Its driver, a most chanting young lady, managed to save a smash, but as she drove slowly past she yelled "You bloody fool, you ought to be pushing a pram! Whereupon I took off my hat with a flourish and replied, "Madam, I apologise. You are quite right. But so ought you!"
A doctor went to Heaven where he was greeted by St Peter who asked him what his occupation had been on earth. When he replied he had been a doctor in an asylum, St Peter said: "Come along with me. You are just the man we want." "Why, what's the trouble?" asked the doctor. "Serious trouble" answered St Peter. "The Almighty thinks he is Hitler."
And here is a story of a young married couple which may be of interest to you. The Bride is relating an incident out hunting:
"When I came here after our honeymoon I soon discovered that unless you took an interest in sheep or hunting you might just as well be dead, for that's all there is on the Border - just sheep and hunting. Of course, I knew nothing about either, so as hunting is the more important, Bill bought me a horse and began teaching me to ride. But when the first Meet came along the dirty dog told me that I couldn't ride up to Border standard, and therefore that I could not go hunting with him. When I inquired meekly what I was supposed to do all day while he was enjoying himself, he said, 'You can go to the Meet in the car and take Whitey with you. She's the best terrier on the Border. Often the foxes go to ground. After the Meet you drive on to the top of the hills and if you see the hunt stopped anywhere, drive up with Whitey and you'll be very welcome.' So, of course, I obeyed.
Well, I went to the Meet, where I was introduced to various people on horseback as the blushing English bride. Then, when they had all moved off I drove up to the top of a hill where I stopped the ear and smoked a cigarette. Then I think I must have dropped to sleep, for when I woke up it was to see a fox trotting across the road only a little way from the car. I'd never seen a fox before, so when he crept through a gap in a wall nearby, I got out of the car and crept quietly towards the wall in order to see where he had gone. I peeped over the wall, and there was Mr Fox sunning himself on the far side. Then I thought to myself "There's all those people and horses and hounds trying to catch a fox. I wonder if Whitey can catch this one. If she can, all those hunting people will be awfully pleased with me.”
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So I crept back to the car, took whitey in my arms, crept on tip- toe back to the wall, lifted her up, end dropped her right on top of the fox, saying; Good Dog, Whitey, Seize him! And she did! She did! She gripped him and hung on. And there was I, leaning over the wall, listening to the most awful row, wondering what would happen next, and thinking how grateful everybody would be to me for catching their fox, and how proud and pleased my husband would be.
In a minute or two I saw the hounds tearing along the hillside towards me, with several horsemen galloping along behind them, so I ran back to the car to be out of the way. The hounds came up and made an awful row as they set into my fox. Then up came the Master and two or three more. They sat on their horses and watched the business, and the Master bellowed "Who in the hell let out that bloody terrier?" And then, would you believe it, that husband of mine who was next to him, shouted, "I don't know, Master. I've never seen the damn dog before." And it was his own terrier, the dirty liar.
The Border experts then finished the business, and presently they all rode off. Not one of them had the decency to thank me for catching their fox. In fact none of them came near me. At least only Bill. He waited until they were all gone, and then rode up to the car with Whitey in his arms. He was white with rage. He tossed her into the back of the car and said "Prue, cover that dog up with a rug and go straight home". The Pig! And me only married a bare three months!"
Well, this all comes out of the book I was rending while sitting on the hearthrug at Redlap, I shared the hearthrug not only with Susan, but with Cheeky, the one-eyed Peke (A big dog de-eyed him in a battle during the summer) and a heavenly, but not quite so pure-bred as Rusty, golden cocker called Jerry, who was very sentimental-eyed and droopy, and had lovely long feathers coming out from between his claws.
Cyril and B. soon came back, and it was fun seeing them again, the last time having been at your wedding.
I was meant to spend a very Quiet time with the Maudes, according to Mum. So next day we went for a very long walk all the morning, went out to tea with some people in the afternoon, and in the evening to dinner at the R.N.C. with the Holts. Admiral Holt (aa he has just bean made) is the Captain till the end of this term when he leaves on account of his promotion, he was very nice and tall and had sea-eyes, if you know what I mean, he sort of looked into the distance, and was very good-looking. He had a wife who probably had been very good looking when young but has rather a hard face now. Also their elder son Christopher was there - typical man-about-town, but quite pleasant, and definitely unbent a little from his stiffness when I asked him what Breed his sporting motor car was, and when he said Morrls, I said Oh but don't you mean a Nuffield. Also he loved the story of the absent minded man who came down to breakfast one morning and kissed his egg and cracked Ms wife on the head. After dinner we went along the miles of cold passages to the Quarter Deck where the "Exmouth" Term of Cadets put on a theatrical show, and they really were awfully good. They did various sketches and a sort of murder-cum-ghost play. One rather good sketch was of a road-man guarding a hole in the road
and s slightly inebriated gentleman, complete with top-hat (or tofat) on his way home from a party entered into conversation with this roadmender and said, “How much longer is that hole going to be a hole," "Well, said the road-mender, "it's been a hole as long as I can remember, because my father had this hole before me, and his father before 'im. It'll always be a 'ole." "Then does this 'ole - er Hole - belong to you" “That's right, this 'ole belongs to me, just the same as that *ole at the corner of Oxford St and Audley Street belongs to me brother, ‘E's going to move 'is ‘ole though. 'E's going further down - thinks Oxford Circus would be better place for a 'ole.
They went on like this for a long time, saying the most priceless things, and then finally the gentleman said, “Well, what have you got in your hole - Pipes? Water or Gas pipes?” "No, there ain't no Pipes in my hole. It's just a 'ole." so saying he picked up a pickaxe to pick at his hole - whereupon, of course, he struck a gas Pipe, out burst a fume of gas, and knocked then both flat!
After that we went back to the Captain's house and played the match game - you know, a bottle standing in the middle of the table, and everybody takes it in turns to put a match on the top. everybody has ten matches about, and if they knock any or all off the top of the bottle they have to have all those too! The idea is to dispose of all your matches, and if everybody succeeds in doing this, it looks just as though a stork had built a nest there! Then the next procedure is for everybody in turn to withdraw a match, and this is just as difficult as putting them on. It's a good test to see who's been drinking and has a shaky hand!
Next day we went over to Torquay and saw a marvellous cave called Kent's Cavern. It was rather the usual, only so huge, and we went on walking for miles and miles, and there were lovely little grottoes of stalagmites and stalactites. Also it was a most particularly interesting cave on account of the number of bones that have been found fossilised in the rock, and most of them are of course tremendously old. There were Mammoth tusks and tiger's wing bones, Horses and wolves, elks and bears (and as we went past a deep cave called the bear's den, Dennis oane over with a serious face, and said "You'll see Mr Court come out of there in a minute"; and, most amazing of all - dear Rhinos!
Also we went to lunch with Cyril's uncle - a sweet old man called Hubert Hanbury Tracy, who lives at a house called Longwood (that's the third Longwood I've been to) in Torquay, with a marvellous view out over the bay and along the cliffy coastline of Devon.
Then one day we went beagling which was great fun, and the hare came and ran right between B. and me who were standing talking together! The Beagles belong to the R.N.C. and the Master (who is the Commander at the College) rode a very fat and lazy chestnut. The whippers-in were all boys from the College, who brought hounds to the meet, and were dressed in white shorts and Hunting stocks, and Blazers. They managed the beagles most efficiently.
One or two people came in to dinner on some nights. One night Commander Hawkins came. He tried to be very blase at first, and said, “Yes, I saw you when you were very small when you
came out to Africa for the first time, with your parents. I was on Athlone's Staff you know." But later on he became definitely amusing. He is a brother-in-law of the Duchess of Gloucester, having married her sister. But being at the R.N.C. as a Commander he is supposed to be a bachelor, and so he is not allowed to have his wife anywhere near him. B. asked him how many children he has got. "Well,” he said, “when I last went home to count there were 3, but there may be more since then!" Another night a fellow with spectacles called Christopher Lloyd came to dine. He is one of the masters at the college, but he is soon going to stop being a master as he has just made quite a nice little bit of money writing a book.. It is a jolly good book, and Cyril and I had fights about reading it as there was only one copy at Redlap. It sounds a dull subject, being a life of Fanny Burney, the first woman novelist who wrote Evelina, Cecllla, Camllla, Kotex, etc. But it really is most awfully interesting, and her love affairs are so amusing because she was so shy that she made her admirers shy too, and thus they became too shy to ask her to marry them!
And then I had to leave Cyril and B. Only before I tell you what I did next I must just tell you a story that Cyril told us.
A man was hurrying along with his friend to attend a dinner in town, at which he was to be the speaker. But suddenly on the way, the poor man tripped on the kerb, fell, and smashed all his top layer of false teeth. Luckily the man with him came to the rescue and took him along in a taxi to a friend of his who would be able to fix him up all right with a new lot. so in they went and they tried set after set of false teeth. At last he found a lot which fitted absolutely perfectly. So they went off as fast as they could to the dinner, and the speaker duly made his speech After it was all over, and the speaker, going home with his friend, end feeling very satisfied with his new teeth, said, I forgot to ask you the name of your dentist friend who has fitted me up with these teeth, who is he?" "He’s not a dentist". “Not a dentist?" "No, he's an UNDERTAKER."
Well, as you know how we loath trains, I didn't look forward to going all the way home in one - or rather not in one, in three, as I would have to change twice. Then, most fortunately Mrs Fletcher (wife of the ex-Headmaster of Charterhouse) who lives at the little house by Redlap's entrance, happened to mention the fact that her chauffeur was motoring up to Godalming to fetch a new car down. So I said quietly “Bentley is on the way to Godalming.” so I got a lovely and free lift home. And it was muoh more snug and warm and fuggy in that little motor car than it would have been in a foul train.
I got home on a Thursday afternoon, and on the Friday morn. I caught the 9.14 to London, and then went across to King's Cross and stepped into the "Royal Scot" which carried me up to Newcastle, where I got to at about 5. and was met by the huge figure on the platform of George Carter.
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George and Mamie had very kindly asked me up to Northumberland - or rather Durham, - for a Scout Ball in Newcastle, and a couple of days’ hunting, which I readily accepted,
The Ball was quite fun, in fact very pleasant, with a very good band, aend a lovely sprung floor - it was in the old Assembly Rooms of Newcastle which are very beautiful. Scouts were on duty at the door collecting the tickets, etc., otherwise it was not a scout ball, except that the proceeds of the Ball are in aid of the Movement. The only thing was that everyone in the party were married couples except me and a man they got to partner me who was horrid! He had been doing broacasting all day, and could talk of nothing else but broadcasting. But he was a great friend of George's, so I had to be polite to him.
Next day was lovely. HUNTING. Philip, George's brother, took me out to the Meet at Minsteracres, about 15 miles out from Newcastle, to have a day'a hunting with the Braes of Derwent. So when Philip introduced me to the old Master, Mr Priestman, I said “Ah. I've hunted with the Braes of Derwent before, but not in Northumberland.” It was with the Gwath Hounds in Kenya. And he said “Oh, did old Bwifty take you out?” So I said “yes he did.” Also he taught us all the names of his Hounds, - Whereupon, in the middle of the Meet we had great fun remembering as many of the Hounds names as we could.
Out stepped my hireling from a horsebox. she was thin like hirelings are, but a good quality mare - not unlike Gipsy Moth if she had been Much fatter, and a bit lower - and her name was Duchess. She was very narrow, had a snaffle mouth and bounoed beautifully. Philip didn't hunt himself, but he introduced me to several people and told two of them to look after me - an old man called Tom Easy, who has hunted with the Braes for 59 seasons! He was awfully sweet, and went very well on his clever grey horse. Also a young gent farmer called Hark Spraggon took charge of me. He had lovely young chestnut which didn’t belong to him, but which he is making into a hunter for somebody.. It
went beautifully, also in a snaffle, and jumped well too. The jumps were chiefly stone walls, which I had not met before, and they were Jolly terrifying to look upon for the first time, but
by Jove Duchess knew her stuff, she just took the matter into her own hands, hoofs, paws or feet, and we WENT. It was all lovely and all the people were so nice and friendly and all came and talked to me whether I had been introduced or not - such a change after the stiff and silent people of the south! Eventually we were stopped by a sudden and very heavy fall of SNOW! It came down tremendously suddenly and hounds completely disappeared, and visibility was completely obscured and we could not even see our way out of the fields. I got out on to the road, just near a cross-roads, and there, to my intense relief was Philip and the car. So I tossed the Brush which I had been given earlier on in the day into the car, and then hacked back about three miles (fast trotting all the way!) to the place where the horse-boxes were all collected. They stuffed Duchess into her box, and me into Philip's oar, and home we all went. But by Jove it was cold. And Snow thick on the road. I think the last snow I had seen until then had been that on the peak of Kilimanjaro when we flew over it on our way to Dar-es-Salaam!
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Next day was a Sunday and it was absolutely frightfully cold, although the sun was shining. We stayed in and felt sleepy all the morning, except when Mamie's handsome brother (who is a sales man in Marshal and Snelgrove!) arrived to show them his new car. It wasn't really a new car, but it was new for him. A very nice looking black Talbot with headlamps high un and very close together, George, by the way, has a most absolutely super Studebaker, a new one since the summer, a 1937 one - maroon-coloured, and so silent and beautiful, and of course with music in him.
In the afternoon we went over to George's uncle's niece to look and see what horse he could lend me to hunt on the morrow. This uncle has a son called Douglas Nicholson who owns a pack of beagles, and there were all these beagles in a lovely kennel in the stable yard. Also we looked at all his horses, but it was so cold that I could hardly bear to look at them because I wanted to keep moving all the time!
Then we went to tea at Mamie's parental home, which is just across the road from her present home. Her mother was away, but her big red-faced father was there, also the handsome bother - brother, I mean, and an attractive but completely idle actress sister.
during tea I felt uncommonly cold and uncommonly full. And when we adjourned from tea to go hone I suddenly felt definitely sick, so I told Mamie, and she rushed me along to the Gents where I violently Unhad. Then I felt quite well - in fact better than I had been feeling all dsy.
When we got home I was sick again - though I didn't tell Mamie so, and had terrific diarrhoea. Then I changed quickly for dinner, as there were some people coming in, and went and warmed myself by the fire and drank lime juice and water, and felt much better. I toyed with dinner, and felt rather piano, but afterwards I brightened up, and we played Lists. Then we got quite cheery, and someone rolled back the carpet, and we danced to the Radio and I felt quite well thankyou, and we didn't go to bed till after 1 a.m.
I think I must have got a Chill after riding in the snow. Next day, Monday, it was absolutely frozen hard and no hope of hunting. But I wasn't very disappointed as I didn't feel quite up to form. So I just spent a lazy morning with Mamie (George had to go off to his work in Newcastle) and they have a dear little daughter called Diana aged 16 months, who can walk marvellously, and is learning to talk and adds new words to her vocabulary every day. she copied whatever I did, or tried to - and she was prioeless to watch when she tried to wink, because she could NOT get one eye to stay open while the other went shut! In the afternoon we went in to Sunderland to see a Shirley Temple film. It was an awfully sweet one called Captain January. She was the adopted daughter of a Lighthouse Keeper called Captain January. She wore trousers and little sailor jerseys, and sang and danced beautifully. She did some very sweet patter dancing with a tall willowy sailor - whose top half went right out of the picture when there were close picturea of Shirely dancing! One rather amusing thing was when Shirley had a birthday, and an old salt brought her a present of an ugly looking bird, a great
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crane, with a white how round its neck. So Shirley walked solemnly up to it and said "Do you remember me?" So the old salt said “That's a crone, Shirley.
"Oh is it," said Shirley. "I thought it was a Stork".
Weil, next day, I had to come down south again. Before leaving Newcaatle, however, Mamie took me along to have a look at one of George's factories where they make "Cut-Outs", in other words, cardboard cartons for holding things in. Chiefly they make cartons for soap. It was very interesting to see the artists at work designing the pictures, then the pictures being printed off onto blocks, and then printed back onto the cardboard as it passed through rollers, and then the cardboard being cut and folded and clamped into beautiful box shapes. There was one lovely machine which put gum on to the backs of labels to be stuck on to boxes. And this machine could COUNT. Because as every fiftieth label went through, it shot it out to the side a little bit, so they could count how many lots of 50 were coming through.
Then I came all the way down to London again, on an evening train. Before we started we just went to have a look at the engine to see who and what it was, and it was the Silver King itself, the original engine which pulled the Silver Jubilee Train. But it only took as far as Grantham, and then we had a great green engine put on.
All the time that I was up in Newcastle and when I got down here again, all the King/Simpson trouble was on - and nobody could think or talk or argue about anything else, coming down in the train, on the platforms, everywhere, you would see knots of people standing together, all airing their particular views of what they thought. Some peoole tried to stand up for the King and say “He can damn well marry whom he likes.” Others, like Mum, said “How Shocking, she's no more than the daughter of a boarding house keeper” Mum quite went off the deep end about it, and said it is positively sickening to think the unpardonable, irreparable harm he has done, etc. etc. And then, when she heard he was going to abdicate, she said "And now, what is our Guide Promise to be? To do my duty to God and the King." Is he going to stay and be our King, or is he going to give in to this Beastly woman, (It really was most amusing to hear poor Mum, because she got so worked up about it one would have thought the King was her son!)
Well, now he's gone, poor little Duke of Windsor. as the oarol savs,
"Hark the Herald angels sing
Mrs Simpson's pinched our King."
Some people said that he thought he was so popular that he thought he could put anything across the Government, - even to putting a low-class double-divorcee American on the throne aa the Queen of England.
Stories about her were simply flying round, and I think one that Mum picked up from somewhere and told me was one of the most terrific. It was that when Mrs Simpson got a divorce from her first husband(who by his Photographs looked an utter brute anyway) she not only had one but EIGHT co-respondents.
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This was the toast that was being drunk the first night in London when it all came out in the newspapers:
"Here's to Mr Simpson. He laid down his wife for the King."
By the way, do you see regular newspapers at all, out in the wilds of Africa? I mean does the weekly Sketch or Mirror or something go out to you7 What I'm thinking is, you will have some thing to read all about this Crisis as they call it, won't you.
It does seem SO funny to see headlines in the paper this morning "Queen Elizabeth Has Wild Attack of Flu" (Queen Elizabeth being none other than the Duchess of York!) I should think the Duke of Kent must be rather peeved with his King-brother for pinching his Christian name!
I should think, as Dad says, this King will be much better than that last one, as he is so much more dependable and better-behaved and steady and doesn't dash off on mad holidays and behave like a tripper in the Austrain Tyrol (where apparently, as Prince of Wales he used to get so tight that next morning he couldn’t even walk straight across the room to his breakfast table!)
Well, anyway, I feel quite sorry for the poor little man as he must have gone through absolute torture lately. The only hope is that Mrs Simpson won't walk out on him now he's failed to make her his Queen! Which I think she is quite likely to do sooner or later as I've heard she is a terrific Cad. She sacked servants wherever she could when she tried to dig herself into Windsor to strengthen her footholds.
Now I must stop King-talking, and answer your fine last letter of 22nd November.
I hope you are getting over the sickness now that it is cooler and that you have done two - Is it two already - months. According to Annie it is rather strange that you ahould have this sickness, because usually a daughter follows what her mother did, and Mum was NEVER sick! How trying! Anyway, I expect you have got it worked out to a fine art, good aim, etc., by now. I can quite feel for you, having done it myself twice last Sunday, but gosh, I shouldn't like to have to do it three times before breakfast and twice after, all in the same day! Anyway, I hope the result will be a Jolly fine SON.
Is Sesheke still SeCHeke?
I have told Mum that it might be a good idea if she wrote to you by Air Mail, and have bought her a whole lot of 6d stamps for the purpose. But she says that as long as she writes regularly every week, so that you always get a letter (however babyish!) it doesn't really matter how long it takes to get there. Except, of course, that all the news is completely out of date.
How annoying of people to write you such footling engagement letters, Why can't they save themselves the bother of writing! Oh! By the way, I opened a letter addressed to you quite by mistake the other day. It was put on my heap, and I was opening them all at express speed before going out hunting. And then I saw it was to Mrs Clay, Dear Madam, and just as I was telling my eyes not to read any further, they alighted upon the words "I have fallen on evil days" - so I continued to read the whole thing, and it was from some begging creature in Canada, without thinking, or rather thinking Damn Cheek to attack newly-weds for money, I tore the letter up. Very wrong I'm afraid. I should have sent it to you, at any rate to read for amusement, even if not to answer. But I'd done it all so quickly (acting on impulse, you know!) that the remains of the letter were out on the rubbish heap before I had time to retrieve them. Gosh, though, the cheek of the people! They had just seen the photograph of your wedding at Bentley, and so wrote their letter just to Bentley, England.!!
By the way, talking of Kathie MacCathie, which you did in your letter, I met a girl called Una Saunders (Australian) at a sherry party the other day, and she said that The Hermitage was burnt down
a little while ago, while all the McCathies were away on holiday-- so that everything they hadn't taken with them was burnt. Awful bad luck for them. The sherry party that I have just mentioned was given by Peggy Killick, in her flat (which is a basement with lovely panelled walls). One girl there was posing and looking very striking and actressy, and when I talked to her, she said do remember me to Betty, My name is ? Skinner, and I was with
her at Westonbirt. (I can't remember what she called her Christian name.)
I was rather lucky at that party too, because at 7.30, I said to the man who I was talking to called Jim Tilling "I must go as I've got to catch a train." so he said “Are you going to Bentley. If so, I'll take you.” so 1 thought he meant he'd take me to Waterloo. Not at all, he took me right home, and it was terribly foggy, specially on the Hog's Back, and we had to creep along at fifteen m.p.h. and even then we turned down a road we shouldn’t have because we couldn't find our way across a cross-roads! I had telephoned to Pax to say get a room ready for a young man and put out some of Dad's pyjamas. And when I showed him up to his room (we got in just after midnight) I saw those stupid maids had put out a pair of MY pyjamas!
These maids we have at Pax at the moment are just the lousiest lot ever. Catchpole the cook is too silly and serves up the dullest meals. Today for lunch for instance, (I was by myself here) I was given Cold Beef and a few very dry chip potatoes, and for sweet Mince Pies (which I hate). And the other day Dad went to bed early because he came back from London rather chilled. So he asked for a Lightly Boiled Egg. And, believe it or not, that damned cook sent up an egg as hard as a bullet.
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But in spite of all that, Mum has actually ASKED her to come back to us when we get back from India!. Which puts Catohpole in a very strong position, and she just doesn't bother to cook at all decently because she knows she won't get fired, Mum's excuse is that she can't risk being left without a Cook in Coronation Year when there will be such a rush on servants. Why she couldn't be looking for a new one now this moment, to engage to come to us in April I fail to see. Then the Kitchen maid is AWFUL and so loud. She shouts and singe(?) at the top of her voice all the time, and bellows out of that scullery window to the dogs. Her squint is more violent than ever, and she never lights up the boiler properly so that we can really have hot water for our baths in the morning. Mum has actually given her notice, but says she is to stay on till Jan. 8th. So, of course, the little wretch does not bother to do a stroke of work, and daily gets cheekier and cheekier, and is terribly rude to Catchpole the way she answers her back.
And then Ivy, the head housemaid, because she is engaged ta a very fine fellow over at Basingstoke, thinks she is absolutely the Cat's Whiskers, and doesn't come down in the mornings till the maid's breakfast bell goes! Also, she has a roaring coal fire going in her room every day, Mum knows that she has it, but does not stop her (though I'm not allowed such a thing in MY room!) I just share an electric heater with Mum. But of course when Mum is at home I don't like to take it away into my room.
Oh, there's the sequel to the Brooke Knight thing now. Very dull though. Just that he was acquitted, as he did not scalp the victim with his motor car on purpose, so it was not a case of manslaughter. But he has had his licence taken away for good. Also he admits to being totally blind in one eye, and pretty deaf.
In your letter you sound rather hit up about Daddoie's health. But really, Duckle, let me assure you he is in the Pink of condition. It was only just one day that he had a sort of “cheap" day, but was quite bright and well and up sgain the next. He la marvellous. He does 7 miles every day. Also lately he has been allowing the Press to come and film him doing his Exercises, as he wants to do anything to promote the development of Physical Education, which the Government authorities have lately taken up with great vigour.
Of course the Press interviews reached their absolute climax when a Photographer arrived at 9 o'clook one night to coma and Photo- graph Dad IN BED on his balcony! Dad was so furious and let fly so terrifically, that Mum had to follow the poor little photographer out of the house to comfort him!
No, honestly, at the moment I think Dad is much weller than Mum. Mum doesn't realise it, but she is overstrained and overworking herself, and she really is TIRED, although of course she would never give in to that word! I think it will be fine for her to get on board ship, and just rest and rest.
I don't think India will be too tiring for Dad actually. So far he has NO engagements other than the Jamboree at the beginning of
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February. Because when Mum and Rosalind go off on this hectic tour which Mum has made out for herself. Dad and I will peacefully go up to Meerut (only 40 miles from Delhi) and stay there for a bit with Colonel Lumley (and hope with luck to be there at the time of the Kadir Cup) and then drift on northwards to Risalpur to stay with the 13th, And then it will be about time for Mum to stop Guiding and to come up and join us, and for us all to go on up to Kashmir to holiday - though March is a bit early for India as some of the Passes are still blocked with snow.
That's one thing about India - it's in the Northern Hemisphere, and therefore it will be winter there the same as it is here, and the winters are not hot. In fact Lettice Hill says she can remember walking up and down the railway Platform at Delhi wearing a fur coat and stamping her feet to keep warm!
One terrible burden we have to take with us is BEDDING, as they don't have any on the railways, at least only on the Mail trains - and we will probably be travelling by intermediate trains chiefly. But it's most annoying having to take holdalls of bedding. It does seem so stupid, and Mum's so annoying about it. I say, surely we can borrow what necessary blankets we want from people out there. She says no, people will not want to lend us their blankets we must take our own. And she is going to take SHEETS too! She says the fleabags will be too hot (Then why take blankets, I say} Because it does get cold in different parts of India that we will be going through, says Mum, (Interminable arguments!)
I do hope Rosalind is going to be of some help to me (in bearing me up in modern views, etc) as well as to Mum! Otherwise I shall be sunk!
Yes, Jane Thornewill is married and living in Cario. Cairo, that last word's meant to be. (By the way, you must excuse this extra marvellously bad typing, but I have such a terrific lot to say that my fingers are so excited they are leaping all over the place.) It is now nearly midnight, and I have already written 11 pages, and I still have tons more to say. Gosh, I wonder if it will all go Into one envelope. And if it does ail go into one envelope, whether that one envelope will ever get to Sesheke, or whether iit will get burned, or drown in the Mediterranean. Will you let me know if you ever do get this letter. Or rather, if you ever don't, because I have not done it in duplicate and I couldn't bear to have to start it all over again!
Well, anyway, to continue with Jane, she is married to a man called Oliver Plunkett who I didn't like when I did meet him because he could do nothing but tell vulgar jokes (which is rather putting off the first time you meet anyone don't you think) But mavbe he thought that as I was a friend of Jane's I would appreciate this. He is tall and wears spectacles as far as I remember, and is a soldier in Egypt, but I can't remember what Force. He end Jane were to have got married in about two years' time when he was coming home on leave. But then he got appendicitis, and was given a fortnight's leave. So
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he wired to Jane “Coming home for fortnight, what about getting married?” So Jane said Oke by me, Strike while the Iron is hot, etc. He got back on Dec. 3rd, and they were married on the 5th. At Anglesey. She asked me to the wedding and very kindly fixed up for me to stay with friends up there, and to motor down to the wedding with Mariette, etc., but unfortunately it clashed with the time that I was in Northumberland with the Carters. I did just see a little Picture of the wedding in the paper, and Jane actually looked rather sweet and very bride like, and Oliver didn't look too bad either.
When I wrote to Aunt Freda (mother Thornowill) later I told her I thought it quite a little coincidence that her eldest son (Derek) and second daughter (Jane) had both gone to Africa in the same way that Hum's eldest son (?!) and second daughter had done the same.
Yes, my sherry party in London went off awfully well - and it was rather easier not having Mum there! One or two people came and said particularly nice things to me about it. One man said he had not seen such a nice collection of people together in one room ever since he had lived in London. These ware real people with personalities in them, he said, instead of the usual brainless society nit-wits! Lettioe said it was one of the best parties she had ever been to, and she can be quite critical. I made everybody introduce each other to others as much as they could, and I did all I could too, because usually at a sherry party people are so bad at that, and you only talk to people you know already instead of making new acquaintances. By the end, of course, there was such a gabble, and 50 people drank 15 bottles of sherry, which isn't bad going - at least 12 was what I estimated.
Re gramophone records: I'm glad to hear that all the ones in Diok Mills' case arrived unbroken. I have not yet succeeded in getting The Song in my Heart. But I flew into Andrews the other day and got a nice Jan Kiepura one, and I have told them to keep it until I have chosen a few more, end then to pack them really well all together and send them out. Do you know if the duty is very heavy on gram, records. I thought ma>be a bunch of them together would work out cheaper than sending them separately.
I am going to send by ship mail a few odd things I have sort of stored up to send you. Things like a letter from Mrs Copeland with an amusing account of how she got stuck in the lift in the Queen Mary, etc, Also the Gilwell photograph, a small copy, which I seen to remember you saying you had not sen.
The silver fox ia very well thankyou and has been out and around a good deal. I am not going to take him to India as I don't think furs lika India very much. I'm going to take a fur though - the brown one. In planning out my clothes this time I am taking rather a brown and white line of country. All brown shoes this time. - Specially as the Guide people in India all wear brown shoes and stockings.
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Oh, by the way, I flew into Sturts the other day to order some Air Mail paper from you. The woman there produced some stuff which looked fairly all right, and she said "This is what Mrs Clay had last time" - so I thought that sounded good enough, and told her to send two slabs of it, plus thin but lined envelopes, out to you, and wrote down the address in huge letters.
Also I had just been in to Dora Gray before that, to get a dress altered, and she said, “DO remember me to Mrs Clay when next you write. We often think of her and hope she Is happy.! Which I have assured her several times, you are !
I must tell you about this dress that is being altered, I was staying the night with the Davidsons the other night (Clare was away so I had her room) and I just casually announced to Pud that I was longing to be able to have a black velvet evening dress. So she said, well you can have that one in that cupboard there. So I pulled it out and tried it on, and it seemed pretty shapely, though all the seams were coming apart and the shoulder straps all pinned together. Pud said you can have it, So I said thanks very much. It is not real velvet, but velveteen. (Personally
1 don't know the difference, so it doesn't make any difference to me!) I took it in to Dora Gray and Miss Stedman has been mucking about with it, and I think it is going to be pretty pleasant. It has a high neck straight across the front, with
2 sliver clips on each corner, and is pretty low at the back with the two shoulder straps coming to a point at the back.
Mum very kindly said that for a Christmas present she would give me any dresses I got from Celia. So I went in there the other day and went ransacking through all her cupboards, and really there were the most lousy lot of things there! Except for one absolutely heavenly white frock - terribly striking, with lovely dark green shoulder straps - and which cost 11 guineas, but which she would let me have for 9, there was absolutely nothing.
I am going up to London tomorrow to do a spot of shopping and I hear there is a very good selection of marvellously cheap evening frocks at Peter Jones, so I will dash in there.
Mow, just a few jottings to interest you. Shawgm. Still alive, and full of worms, so while Mum is away I have taken him to the vet. to be dosed, bathed, etc. He is very sweet, but my god, he can snore! He's far worse than you before you were detonsiled, antrimed, etc. He's wonderful the way he gets around. The other day I was going out riding over to Bordon, and I told the lousy maids to keep him and look after him, but of course the first thing they did when I set off down the drive was to let him out, and he would NOT an back. (Pretended he did not know how to turn round) So I just let him come. And cone he did! He kept gaily trotting ahead (miles in front of Bong) when we were on the roads. But when we turned up through the Robertson’s hopfields he got sadly left behind,. So we went on as fast as we could and then came back exactly the
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same way as we had gone, so as to join him again, But of course there was not a sign of him! So when we got home and found he
had not come back we felt a little sorry for him. So after lunch we [Gay Mather who had come for the weeked) and me went forth to Binsted in her car. - Oh I forgot to say I had rung up Bentley and Binsted Post Offices to notify them. Lost, 1 black Labrador, blind - but no result. By this time it was deluging with rain, and we went along slowly while I spied out across the fields, but never a sign of the old boy.
Suddenly as we came round that corner where there is the cross- roads to Binsted, we saw him, trotting along by the side of the road, head and tall down, and coming towards home. Oh, he was glad to be picked up! I really felt awfully sorry for him as he was so grateful for being fetched, and it is terrible not to be able to see at all where you are going. Dear old Shawgm.
His hindlegs are his most wobbly part. In fact to such an extent that he has to Pee Like a Puppy - he can't balance on one leg like a grown uo dog usually can.
Twm. Just as heavenly as ever, and never lets me out of his sight. Even if I go from the drawing room to the telephone he gets up from the fireside and comes along too! I have just been writing to the Copelands today to ask them to have him - which of course they will - when we go off to India. Lettice is pining to have him, so are all the Davidsons. He is a very popular little creature.
Rusty. Heavenly and floppy, but terrible at rushing to the pig bucket the moment he is let out of his kennel, and when he comes in from his walk he simply won't go back into his cage again, but dashes off round to the rubbish heap, and has to be dragged back! But while we are in India he is going to SCHOOL over at Beaconsfleld, and there he will learn to be a housedog and learn who he is. He will be much better in the house I think.. Only I wish Mum looked after him more. As it is, he has his meals just like the others, outside, given him by the foul little kitchen maid. But I think Mum finds him a bit too rushy and when he cones in all wet and muddy from walks he would dirty the house rather. However, when we are home again in April and it is drier weather and the foul kitchen maid has gone I think it will all be much better!
Bong. No thinner. Just the same.
Gipsy. Terribly fit and well and lovely and muscly and fat, and shiny coat, nice pulled tail all slim at the top, and thinned and silky mane. She really looks an absolute picture. I hunted her with the Bordon drag last Friday when they met at Bentley and we did NOT go to the Holt, we went up to Binsted instead, Gosh, she can jump big! We had to jump an up-hill post and rails and she simply leapt up into the sky!
Jority. While I was ill Jority was sent back to Tom Downman as being unsuitable for me because of her rearing, falling over, etc, But when I got back from Northumberland (on a Wed) I had written
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to Downman and told him to have something at the Meet on Thurs. for ne to hunt - and added that the only one I wanted to hunt was Jority. So Jority arrived at the Meet, plus a roan animal as second string in case I could not bear Jority. I had not seen her since she had been clinped out. She looked very beautiful - but oh, so thin! He has starved her a bit I think as she was too round and bumptious. But in spite of her thinness she looked very ducky with beautifully plaited mane and flowing tail and beautiful slim legs. She was very gay and bouncy, but did not rear at all, and jumped everything marvellously, though we had nothing very fierce. I rode her in a snaffle and 1 think that was better than the double bridle for her. She did pull a bit, in fact I still have a fine blister on one finger, but she did stop as soon as I really checked her.
I couldn't resist her, so I rode her hone! It was 15 miles and I got in at 5.30 and it was inky dark. Hut she was marvellous, and didn't mind headlights and double-deckers a bit.
I have these two lovely Hunters. But at the moment I am having rather an anxious time trying to find homes for them while we are away.
I thought I had found an ideal one for Gipsy - with Rachel Soames. When I offered her to her Rachel was absolutely delighted and fixed up about boxing her down to Essex (where she will live when she marries) and insuring her and getting her put in foal and everything. But then she rang up most dejectedly the other day to say that they are not going to live where they thought they were going to, and their new house has no stables and nobody to look after the horses or anything, so at the moment it is all looking rather black. But I hope she may be able to find somewhere where she could keep her. Jority so far has found no hone. I thought at one moment of lending her to Pud, as she had been lent a horse for Nov. and Dec. but not after. However, I've just heard that she has wrecked that horse for the rest of this season by jumping it over an enormous place and had a terrific over-reach which cut clean through a tendon. Actually it wasn't really Pud's fault, it was rather bad luck. She was terribly cut up about it and said she cried and cried as she hadn't cried for years. All the same, I feel rather chary about lending her Jority! In fact I won't.
I'm going to a sherry party of Pud's tomorrow. I've never been to a party of hers before, and have hardly met any of her frlends, except one or two of the "darling" types of females. I can't bear to think what the males are like if they are the equivalent!
Gay Mather was staying here this last weekend - she and me together, as the parentage are away In Paris. It was great fun seeing her again and she had all sorts of scandals to tell about various people in Kenya. Apparently Freddie has completely disappeared off the face of the earth. He left the Rays because he wasn't making much progress Billie didn't like him because he wouldn't make up to her!) and went on to some other people. Then he left them, and nobody knows where
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he has got to since! Gay seems to have had one or two parties with him. They went out on terrific safaris and mountain climbing expeditions, she and Freddie and another couple who were engaged, and apparently nobody wasted any time! Little Kuhle, do you remember him on the Mantola, who was always around with a rather dully looking little woman with a child. Apparently he slept with her every night!
I showed Gay our Kenya films which of course she loved seeing, and also all the scrap books and diaries. She was most appreciative of everything and kept on saying how Kenya-sick it made her feel. Because she had six months out there, so she had plenty of time to fall in love with the country. You remember Fassa, her black mare that she bought. It was very thin, so she fed it a terrific lot and it got to look a very fine animals, and when she had to leave Kenya she sold it to a racing stable for £25 (having got it for £20 from funny old Miss Tozer) and since then sha has won and run second in several races.
It was fun having Gey here, and she rode Gipsy and loved her and said it was so lovely to ride an animal which when it saw a jump or a ditch would jump it readily, instead of fumbling over it like most of the stable horses she rides in Richmond Park do. She came down in a nice little Hillman Minx - but it was not nearly so nice as Juno. Much noisier, and she says it oan't go more than 60 - whereas Juno loves going at 65! Though I haven't been at that pace lately as the roads have been pretty mucky.
David was meant to be here last weekend, and I told him to ring up and say when he was coming. So on Thursday he rang up and said something about a lot of work, so I said Don't cone if you don't want to. So he said All right I won't. ! But he's coming next weekend instead. - when he will find rathe: a house full as the H.H. ball is on next Friday, and one or 2 people are coming to stay for it - all ones you know, so I will just recite them to you. 8 of us altogether. Ann and me, Frog Holmes, Bill Worrall, Bunny Sales and H.C.Gillman. Then Mum said I was to ask a married couple as chaperones (when both Ann, Frog and I are all over 21, but she thinks one should go on having chaperones till we are 40 I suppose!) So I have got the Armitages coming. I tried to get Dor and Harry, but unfortunately they ean't leave their home for more than a few hours as they have five horses to look after and no groom!
Mrs Colvin over at Basingtstoke asked me to the Garth Hunt Ball in her party, but unfortunately I can't go as it is on 29th January. Also I can't go to the Dorking Ball with Evie as it's on the very day we sail, nor the Guildford and Shere Beagle Ball as that's on the 15th, or the Bordon Drag R. A. Ball as that's on the 22nd January. Too bad! Talking of Guildford and Shere Beagles. They are meeting at Weston on Saturday. Only unfortunately I can't go as it's the day after our Hunt Ball, and everyone wants to go out fox-hunting. The Meet is at Kitcombe.
Oh, I must tell you one thing Annie said the other day, at least I hope I haven't told you already. She had read
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your letter with the description of the scorpions, and how you flick your sponges into the water in the mornings, in case there is a scorpion in bed in them. Well, when I went along to my bath the other day, I found Annie had already run the bath for me and put the sponges in the water. She stood back and said "No scorpions in there." I thought it was rather sweet!
Annie has had a birthday today. I had to go and buy a present for Mum for her - of three pairs of gun-metal coloured stockings I didn't know what size quite to get, so I got the biggest! I feel very nobel myself, having given Annie a £. But she did look after me marvellously when I was ill.
I had staying here the other day a girl called Julia Mardon, who was at St James's. I was never great friends with
her then, in fact I hardly even spoke to her. But I met her in the Ladies Carlton the other day and I wrote to her when I saw the announcement of her engagement (I've forgotten who to!) and she is a sister of Victor Mardon who had a farm on the opposite side of the valley to the Rays in Kenya, We went and saw where he condensed steam to make water, if you rememnber. Well, we had a fine Kenya party, her and me and Gay.. And also on Saturday evening we went over and drank a spot of sherry with Edward and Peggy Knight, who you may remember, went to Kenya for their honeymoon - and stayed there two years! Well, Julia came to stay and she saw the films, and she rode Gipsy - the day before Gay came, and loved her too. And then she said “When I’m married I'm going to live at Bordon as that's where we will be quartered". So now she is poking about looking for a house, and she might be able to get some place in Bentley. Her fiasco is in the same Regiment as William Colllngwood. At the moment he is stationed at Khartoum, so she is sailing off at the end of this month to go and visit him - have a final look at him, before he comes homes for the wedding in April.
Let me think who else is engaged.
Oh, yes, your friend Lavinia Strutt seems to have done quite well catching the Duke of Norfolk, though he Is a peculiarly ugly looking creature. But still, he lives for horses and so does she, so that ought to be fine - unless they get jealous!
Also Helen Trafford, - in fact she was married last Thursday. She pleaded me to attend the wedding, but I aaid I couldn't possibly make it (coz I had a date with Jority.) And Jane.
And Walter Osterreich - do you remember him in Australia.
He is back in Belgium now and is thinking about getting married.
Also Dick Harrap.
That's all I can think of at the moment,
Reg. Thackery, up at Headley too.
I can't rmember who any of them are engaged to!
I saw your friend Lorna Atkinson in London the other day. I was sitting talking wlth Lettice in her office, and Loraa came
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in and gave me a glassy cold stare. And suddenly she SAID HEATHER. I thought you were a terrifying commissioner sitting there !"
Your film of the Falls, I think I told you, is a great success. Do make G. take some of you - before you start to bulge! We are dying to see Pictures of your Home at Sesheke.
It was rather funny last week - we got Portmanteau 6 before Portmanteau 5. However, 5 has now arrived, so we have caught up again. Anyway 6 was more cheerful news because you were getting better over the sickness.
What a shame that the Pangolin got away. Is there never any hope of getting another one. All your livestock do sound the most intriguing lot, and the owls falling off their perches is so oomic!
Did you ever read one of the books you got with your book tokens called "The Weather in the Streets"? Because I read it the other day, and although it was all risht at the beginning, it got morbidder and morbidder and more and more grim that by the end I could hardly bear to read any more ! I think Olivia was a bit of a bum the way she went chasing after Hollo. If she hadn't hurled herself at him of course, there would have been no story though!
Aunt Violet (Mummy) rang up in rather a flap last night to say that the ruby ring she gave you had not been sent out to Africa, and that it was not in your dressing case with the rest of your jewelry. If it has not been put carefully away by Mum (and I will ask her tomorrow when she cones home) I will get in touoh end tell the Insurance Company about it. But I don't think anybody could have stolen it when it was on view at the “Bazaar".
And talking about the Insurance company, could you, do you think, possibly make a list of all the things that arrived broken, because you see you can send in a claim for damages to the goods. Actually I don't know if they will pay up after a delay, so it might be a good idea to make out the list pretty swiftly.
On the other hand, if you can't be bothered to do this, and I don't know whether enough stuff was broken to make it worth while to send in a claim.
How are the christening ideas getting on. Dad told me
he had sent you the Brilliant suggestion of AGNES! Dear Daddoie. He is fun, isn't he.
I had a letter from "Steve" Don the other day. Do you member her? She was rather a friend of Yvonnes' on the Adriatic Cruise. She wrote me an awfully nice letter - from Bombay where she now is with her husband, and her name is now Young - and has asked me to all meals and stay as long as I can and will. So I told her I would when I could manage to
untie the apron strings,
(Gosh, I must make this the last page!)
I'm afraid there won't be any news after all this lot, for some time to come. Anyway, I think there is going to be a bit of a rush now- - as the time goes skidding by so quickly, specially when hunting days mean beginning at 9. and not getting in till after dark.
I've got to go and have my hair Permed on Thursday, I was meant to go last Friday, but then I heard that the Meet was at Bentley, so put it off till the next day. And when the next day came I wanted to ride over to Bordon with Julia, and so I put it off again - though I didn't dare say it was just because I wanted to go riding, so I told a fine lie and said I had to go and listen to the Proclamaition of the new King. (Which I heard beautifully over the Radio that night instead!)
By the way, I do hope the Radio is working all right. If it isn't, and if there is anything missing or anything that I can get more information about from Brownjohn, you won't hesitate to let me know will you. Because it's no use having the damn thing if it doesn't work.
Everything is very Xmasy in the shops these days, I have to go and buy things for myself for going to India, and all the notices say Gifts for your Friends, so I have to be my friend who I am buying gifts for!
Pax has begun to get Christmas cards - 2 so far! From Princess Ileana and the Galways in New Zealand,
Oh, talking of New Zealand, the Norries came over to tea the other day and brought with them a fellow who went out the following week to be A.D.C. I can't remember what his name was, but he had such a stupid high voice!
Just to finish off with, a nice little rhyme for you. Not really a rhyme, but just Blank Verse. It has no title.
He tried her on the sofa
He tried her on a chair
He tried her in the window-seat
But couldn't get it there;
He tried her on the ottoman.
He tried her on the floor
He tried her in the bedroom
A hundred ways or more;
He tried her in the armchair
And Lord! How she did laugh!
He tried - but every way in vain
To take her photograph!
Now I really must stop. The fire's gone out, the Radio has closed down, Twm wants to go out for his last walk, and I must go to bed. Otherwise it will be time to go out riding as soon as I've stuck this letter down - if ever I can get it to stick down. Write to India won't you. P.T.O.
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This page is fatter than the others, so I can type on its back.
I feel sure Mum will have given you all our addresses won't she. Anyway, if you send them (Dad and me at least) to c/o Col Kennedy,M.C. 13/18th Royal Hussars, Risalpur, N.W.F.P. I expect he would keep them for us.
I hope you do get this letter all right, because I don't think I'll have the energy to write for quite a time after this effort! I will on board ship though. And if I keep a diary I will write it in duplicate and send you a copy shall I. I will if I can.
I hope Rosalind isn’t going to be too efficient on this tour. I have a horrible feeling she is going to be, and that I shall show up badly. I think she is most suited to the job as she is awfully good at being polite and saying the right things to people.
Now I really am going to hang up the receiver. GOODBYE.
Miles of love to you both, and I hope the third is progressing favourably
 Rolls Royce presented to B-P at the Jamboree.
 Chauffeur & Groom
 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Princess_Ileana_of_Romania Betty and Ileana exchanged Christmas cards for several years.
 A Welsh Terrier.
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