P022 19370406
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Please note these are transcribed by software,so there WILL be mistakes.
Please tell us which page of which Portmanteua.
PORTMANTEAU 022
Sesheke,
N. Rhodesia.
8th April, 1937.
Darling Everybody,
I'm sorry last weeks P. Was so short, but I wrote it in bed on Wednesday morning before the mail went; I was only in bed because I haven't time to get up! The afternoon before (Tuesday) we arrive by plane 3.30, and were both too much the worse for wear to do anything but sit and read our letters and drink endless tea till it was time for bed! I'm afraid this P. Won't be very long or interesting either, as there is not very much to say.
Poor G. didn't feel at all well for several days after the flight, but he is all right now, thank goodness! I was rather worried about him at Mongu because he kept on feeling very sick for no apparent reason, and the Gump of Dr thumped him and said he could find nothing wrong at all, except a slightly enlarged spleen, so he gave him a tonic, which made him sick on the spot. But one just ISN'T sick for no apparent reason, so I think it must be just belated sympathy for me, although I stopped a long time ago.
On Saturday he was ever so much better, so just to keep up the family reputation and keep Miss Lanz busy, I developed a temperature of 99.4 – the best I could do! – And felt rather dead. G. was so sweet and worried that I began to suffer from self-pity, but wasn't able to keep it up till the next day, so that was all right.
We were absolutely amazed when we flew over the city of Sesheke, to see that the whole of the plane where we used to walk in the evenings and have pot-shots at duck and pheasants is completely underwater! The river has come on to the bottom end of the aerodrome to, and about a quarter of it is underwater, and all along the edge of it to the patch of bush opposite the house, and even part of the Bush is swamped.
The result is that the whole place is swarming with duck, mostly pink-billed-teal, the little tender ones, and a few yellow-bill, and last night we saw a brace of pygmy geese. We go down to the end of the gum Avenue every evening, and within a hundred and 200 yards of us we see anything up to a hundred little heads perching on the water. We got one p.b.t. the first night, five the second, four p.b.t. And one yellow-bill the third, one duck, one snipe and one pheasant the fourth night, one p.b.t. the fifth, and Monday night we went out and didn't get anything at all – they all swirled away in the opposite direction, every direction except where G. was, and settle down in the middle of the plain!
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on Sunday two little tiger-cats were brought in, so we have course bought them, as we never can resist animals of any sort, and it encourages people to bring in queer things if we always buy what they bring in for the price they ask. Once or twice we have turned away animals – there were four very tiny Tiger-cats once before, which looked in dreadful condition and were full of fleas, but we always give the chappie a little something to encourage him. These little animals are very ferocious, I should say they are about a month old, and they can scratch like anything, and spit like real grown-up cats. We keep them in the Impala House, and feed them on raw meat and milk, and they sit on their honkers and growl all the time they are eating if we are anywhere near.
I took a film of them the first day they arrived (for safety, in case they died or escaped like most of our animals do if I don't fill them at once!) Eating, and little Merry being "seen off" when he tried to poach their food. They will probably have died by the time we have to go – we don't seem to be very good at keeping our animals for long, or else it is just their perverse nature which makes them die in captivity – but if they are still alive I don't know whether we will hand them over to Phibbs will take them with us. The former, if he'll have them, I expect.
We shot his last monkey last week. When we arrived there were three small monkeys loose in the big fig tree at the back – (no, only two, sorry. One he had shot himself). He had had three, and they were quite tame and would eat out of their hands, and as they couldn't get into the house because of the mosquito netting it was all right. Then the Phibbses had to move down to the guesthouse to make room for us, and the monkeys went to, and as there was no mosquito netting the monkeys got in and pinched a lot of things, and went ON pinching a lot of things. So Phibbs shot one of them, and that sobered them down a bit, so they contented themselves (after Phibbs had gone) with stealing our eggs or baby chickens from under the hens.
One had a rope still tied round its waist, and as we suppose it was only a young one, the rope grew tighter and tighter as the monkey grew, so we meant to shoot it, but before we had time to it disappeared, so we presume it died.
That only left one, and he was an awful little monkey, stealing all our best Sunday-go-to-meeting beans, peas and lettuces, as well as the eggs. We tried to scare it away, and one day the boys caught it, and tried a little baiting, by tying its arms behind its back and letting it go; really was amazing the way it managed
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to leap about on its legs and tail. But instead of teaching it a lesson, when its arms were let go it got cheeky still, sitting on the tree and throwing things at people and getting very daring about grabbing things from under people's noses. Then we discovered when we got back from Mongu – the tale-less monkey! Somebody had caught it and thought it would be a good plan and had actually had the beastliness to cut off its tail. So then the only thing was to shoot it, and were well rid of it to. He used to get onto the tin roof of the bedroom and slide down it when I was resting in the afternoon, like those birds did in New Zealand!
I wish we could shoot white ants. Yesterday morning before breakfast I happened to look behind the spare bed in the dressing room (being a good housewife, of course those bracket before my eyes there stood a vast chunk of mud, clinging to the wall between it and the bed, above the "anti-proof" (sez you) coursing, and sticking out about 6 inches from the wall, so that it had spread onto the bottom of the counterpane and onto the corner of G.'s suitcase, which lives under the bed.
I prepared what I was going to say to Peter in my best and most voluble Chiwemba, but when he arrived and I waded in, he rather took the wind out of my sails by saying "I cleaned it yesterday, and it's come up in the night." This sounded on a par with "it came away me 'and, Mum" so I got G. onto the scene of action, and he "the cad" said, oh yes, quite possible. So there was a perfectly good row wasted.
Anyhow, there were more of them in the Veranda, and in the dining room, so we gathered all the and-houses together, plus as many of their owners as we could find, and put them on a newspaper outside in a heap. We sat merry down beside the heat, and it was higher than him! So I filmed it, and took a photo of it, and if the photo comes out well enough, and looks impressive enough, we are going to send it to Mr Poole and ask him who is meant to live in the D.C.'s house – the D.C. or the white ants? Because the latter seem to think they do!
The whole house is riddled with them, and they are now beginning to emerge about 3 feet from the floor in the sitting room fireplace, and all the walls have to be scraped every day. We think it must be because the water that has fallen from time to time on the aerodrome has now sunk in and is under the house, so all the white ants are hurrying heavenwards. In vain of course, as they meet a dastardly death of the hands of a trowel and a savage boy.
Now I'll tell you more of the things we have got
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on Sunday and when we arrived home. I can't remember how much I told you about them last week, but I know it was precious little.
MUM [her mother].
Labelled New Delhi, March 14, and nothing to answer. I enclose (by remember) some photos Peter sent me last week of Inyanga, I think they are jolly good photos, much better than mine, which I enclose for you to use as chewing gum or whatever else you think they are fit for. As you know, my character isn't suited to a vocation of photography, and anyway we only have G.'s mouldy little camera, whose insides must I think have been eaten by a white ant.
I also enclose a letter from a girl called Pam Ryan, could you give it to Heather please? She wrote from Kenya (Nairobi) saying she was sorry to miss seeing us as she didn't come to N.R. but would I write to her, and she was leaving for home on 9th April, and the letter only got here on the 4th so I couldn't catch her, and she didn't give me her home address. She wasn't a very particular friend of mine, so I don't really want to write to her but I thought Heather might be some time, or might meet her, so if so could she think her for me.
I got a letter from Mrs Fitzhenry in Lusaka, saying that I was to come and stay with her while I'm there, which is terribly sweet of her, though I'm not quite sure if she can have me for the whole time as I shall be arriving in the middle of May and Robin's earliest birthday is June 29th. It seems rather a shame that she should have to put up with me for all that time, and awfully awkward if she suddenly wanted to put somebody up and found her guest room full of an Expectant Mother. She said I was to give you her love, and reassure you that she would take very great care of me, and she is "quite used to having expectant mothers in the house as they often stay before going into hospital" which I think is rather sweet, don't you. So you needn't be afraid that I'll be marooned all by myself in the vast capital of northern Rhodesia with nobody to look after me.
There, I think that polishes YOU off, Mum.
MUMMY [her mother-in-law].
Such a nice letter, of March 17th, and I'm so glad you got P. 17 all right at last, especially as it was the one telling you all about the clothes you sent, and as it must've been terribly disappointing not hearing the word about them and you must've thought me a Nasty Woman not to mention them at all. I've told you all about them again in a later letter, telling you how they got on at Mongu.
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I forgot if I told you about what the doctor said in Mongu. He was an awful Poop, but said he thought both Twins and the "Caesarian" were very unlikely indeed, but didn't give any other explanation instead, so I presume it's just nothing.
I got a very nice letter from Miss Griffin, saying she was so looking forward to coming out, and another the following week saying that everything was definitely fixed up for her to sail on Our Ship on Our Birthday. I'm glad she's willing to stay on a little if necessary so as to help me come home if I decide to; there's lots of time to discuss that in, and it all depends on how Robin gets on, and also whether a second official comes to Mankoya because I Refuse Flatly to leave G. there by himself again, even if it is only for a few months. So we shall just see, and it will be a great help if she can come home with me, and makes her return-voyage worth paying for!
I'm awfully sorry, Mummy, but I disobeyed your letter. You told me to give G. a hug for you on our birthday, but I'm afraid I used it up there and then, so will you please send him another?
Talking of birthdays, your letter was written on Daddy's birthday, and we feel TERRIBLY ashamed of ourselves for not sending him a wire for it as we were in Mongu at the time and it would have been so easy, but G. suddenly said "it was Daddy's birthday the day before yesterday," so that was that! Where terribly sorry, Daddy, and I do hope you'll forgive us. How did the silver-selling go off? Poor Daddy, you must have hated parting with it, and it does seem an awful shame, and I feel rather guilty in a way as we coursed you such a terrific lot of expense just before you started buying a house. However I hope it went off all right, and perhaps you didn't have to sell it all.
Now about the parcels that came. We got several lovely big bunches of papers, many of them are still lying under the table waiting to be opened as we haven't nearly got through them all yet. You ARE sweet about sending them, Mummy and Ralph, and we do love getting them so. Thank goodness I'm not being a Fashionable Young Bride in England at this moment as I think the fashions as displayed by "the Queen" etc. look too ghastly for words, especially hats. I suppose they can't help it though, they have to think of something NEW.
Then there was also little parcel containing a sweet Birthday Card with the most appropriate picture of two lovebirds on the front; there was a jigsaw puzzle from Daddy, which we haven't had time to do yet but which is going to be great fun to do when we do. Thank you
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MOST awfully for them, and I'm terribly sorry we couldn't wait till our birthday to open them, and we sort of opened them all together in Scrabble and couldn't resist them. You don't mind, do you, Mummy?
Then also there were three lovely books, "Grey of Fallodon", the Du Mauriers, and "Midnight on the Desert", by Priestley. We are frightfully thrilled with them, and as you know they are just the sort that G. love's, and so do I. We've got such a marvellous library now, and with all his 450-odd books that he had already, I've got enough good literature to last me years, and he is always looking through the catalogues marking the ones he wants, and we have books from you and Daddy constantly coming on, you darlings. It's terribly sweet of you, and such a marvellous birthday present.
AND – most exciting ball – a parcel containing the most beautiful blue soft fluffy shawl for me, and the first article of Robin's trousseau – a pair of white Wool Boots and a pair of Blue Wool SHOES!! Oh, weWERE so thrilled with them, and we keep on rushing along to the bedroom to take them out and have a look at them! They really do look too adorable, and they SO sweet standing beside G.'s enormous bedroom-slippers! It seems to have made it seem closer than ever, as if he is going to arrive so soon now, and we ARE so excited about it.
It was awfully sweet of you to give me these as a present, Mummy, and I feel so envious of you being able to go and choose all his things! I don't know what we do without you there to do all this for us, as is away such a lot would have been very difficult for her to cope with everything. You really are a MARVELOUS mother-in-law – I AM lucky.
There, I think that's all for you now.
PETER [her brother, with the B.S.A.P. in Rhodesia].
As you see, I have sent the photos onto Mum as requested; your office looks much smaller than ours, which is exactly like our house without the bedroom, but your surroundings look good deal nicer than ours, and you can consider yourself blest at having MOUNTAINS in your view. You may throw away P. 17 and 18 now, as the parents have received them safely; thanks awfully for storing them. How's the transfer getting on?
To be continued in our Next. Amen.
Gallons and gallons of love,
from
US.
