PORTMANTEAU 021
                                                                             Sesheke,
                                                                             N. Rhodesia.
                                                                             29th March, 1937.
Darling Everybody,
Here we are home again at last, and I was very ready to get home as it did seem an awful waste of time sitting there at Mongu doing nothing, G. had done all the business he could do, P.C. had gone so we couldn't fish any more news out of him as to our plans for moving, and Easter weekend was a complete holiday which we could have done with very well at home with the garden in such a terrible state.

However, it couldn't be helped as the aeroplane couldn't come before, and the what more is were terribly kind and didn't seem the least perturbed when we turned up after each force alarm and said "we can't go until Monday, or Friday," or whichever day it was. I can't quite remember the exact turn of events, but the main plans were: we were to leave here on the Saturday, after the conference was over, by barge in the ordinary way. Then the doctor will said it would be much wiser not to go by barge, but we should go direct by air, so as to be within reach of medical aid within a day instead of having eight days out of reach of anybody on the river – just IN CASE anything should go wrong.

So we planned for a plane from Spencer's to come up on Monday, and on Monday we got a wire saying he had had a forced landing near Mulobezi and had turned over, so the plane was out of action and would have to go down to Johannesburg to be repaired etc. so we told R.A.N.A. at Lusaka, and they said they were coming up on Thursday to take the P.C. away, and could fetch us on Friday.

On Friday we got a wire saying the plane had done its 25 hours, or whatever it was, and had to be overhauled, and the earliest it could come was Monday. On Monday it arrived in the morning to take the doctor away, and said it would come back in the afternoon and take us down in the evening, if it had time. No sign of the aeroplane, and it had had great difficulty in getting off the aerodrome because we had had such terrific deluges of rain lately.

On Tuesday however, it arrived at about 11, and had lunch at the what laws, and off we went at about 1.30 and arrived here at our own front door at 3.30 – a distance of about 200 miles! We carried with us the office (invaluable office) the Blue Box [cine camera], with which I took an aerial view of Mongu, and an aerial view of Sesheke aerodrome as we swooped down onto it, the shot gun, the tennis racket, and Merry and six paper bags.

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We were both very sick indeed, G. new he was going to be because he was feeling sick before we started, as he had some tiny fish for dinner the night before which had been bad and he had eaten too before we sent them away, and he had been very sick in the night. So perhaps the effect of his being sick made me, and Merry was the only good one in the family, being pushed from one need to the other as the paper bags moved into action one by one. Poor little dog didn't enjoy much though, as he couldn't lay his head anywhere without it getting nearly jolted off by the vibration, so he had to go to sleep with his head hanging in midair, and each time he had just got nicely off to sleep he was jerked off his perch and dumped on another.
We didn't do anything much in those last few days. I went out to morning tea parties once or twice, where everybody took their knitting and sewing, and G. played tennis quite a lot, and went out sailing in the Queen Mary.

Oh, I didn't tell you about the Queen Mary, did I. It is a little boat, 14 feet long and rather's doubt, with a flat bottom and a little keel, which Mr what more had built by the B.M.S.(Barotse National School), which is about 2 miles outside Mongu. He is mad on sailing, and he got sail out from England and stuck it up, and she goes marvellously, and they have had some wonderful sales in her, and she's very nice and easy to paddle or row if the wind drops. They got caught in an awful storm in her the other day, when a fine wind had taken them right across to Lealui (the Paramount Chief's village about 7 miles away across the flood) and when the storm stopped the wind had completely gone and they had to row all the way back, and didn't get in till nearly 9 o'clock. Poor Mrs W. was very anxious, but I didn't feel in the least worried, probably because I forgot to imagine what would happen if the boat had upset in Croc-Infested Waters.

There was going to be a Golf Tournament on Easter Day, but owing to the golf course being on the aerodrome, and the aerodrome being underwater, it was postponed.

There are several horses at Mongu, all belonging to the P.C.  a stallion called Toby, who nobody is allowed to ride except the groom because the P.C.thinks he is too fierce, and he gallops about the station with the's head tied down to his front leg because if he has it loose he bites chunks out of all the other horses. There's Chum, and old grey who was in his young days the second nicest horse in N.R.(I don't know who the nicest was). There's Redcap, a not-bad -looking chestnut, and his mother Peggy I think, who has got a young foal as well. And there's another mayor in full at the moment. The P.C. is very particular about who rides them, and Mr W doesn't like asking him much because he hates being "allowed to" as a favour, so to speak, and anyway there is no where worth riding to in this deep sand.

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well, then we flew down here, and the what Moores came down to see us off, plus the Fat Bill, their ridiculous bull terrier puppy, who really belongs to Yeta, but as Yeta is in England the P.C. asked the Watmores to look after him. They are most indignant at the idea of looking after a dog for a native, and are going to try and keep him as they don't think any native, however rich, has a right to have a well-bred European dog. They never feed or look after their dogs at all, they are just rough scavengers, and this nice Bill will have to live with these awful low-bread curs, and Yeta will probably never see him, and anyway will take no notice of him, and as he's no good for hunting, which is all natives usually keep dogs for, it seems an absolute waste that he should go to Yeta. But I suppose the what Moores will have to give him up when Yeta comes back, though the dog arrived after Yeta had gone, by air, and Yeta left no instructions at all as to what was to happen to him.

It was amazing flying down alongside the river all the way, with nothing but flooded plain dotted with islands as far as we could see to the right, and nothing but miles and miles of forest, interspersed with river-valleys and flat bits of the plain, and a few lakes, to the left.

When we arrived we found the garden in a dreadful state, everything we had planted out so carefully before we left has completely disappeared, all the snapdragons, the dahlias, the balsam and most of the chrysanthemums, and the place looks as if it hasn't been watered at all. However, we're going next month, so it doesn't matter!

We found a lovely lot of mail – three males, – waiting for us. March 9th and 12th from Mummy, all about the nurse and Abbotswood sounds marvellous, and you will be IN by now! I told you all about our plans last week, and I'm afraid I haven't time to put them any clearer now, as there is nothing new to add and the mail is here. Two from Peter, March 3rd and 11th, saying he is still trying to transfer into the Native Department. I expect you will have managed it by now. A marvellous 20-pager from Heather, all about the wonderful time you had at Risalpur etc.  Two from Daddy, 26th Feb. and 10th March, and don't bother, Daddy, we've done or planned or are doing everything you told us. You're not too WORRY about me, because honestly I'm a hefty healthy young female and nothing is likely to go wrong, it doesn't with other people so why should it with me? And don't forget that by the time you get a letter from us saying anything has been wrong, it is all right again and we have forgotten all about it. And the Lanz is a MOST reliable person, I assure you.

I know there was one from Mum, too, a lovely long one from Calcutta, but I don't seem able to lay my eyes on it at the moment in the awful model, but I don't think there was anything to answer.

Goodbye, must stop, lots of love,

US.

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