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  • #6499
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Premise is set:

      Olga, Egbert and Obadiah are key protagonists in an adventure of elderly people being evicted / escaping their nursing home of Oocrane (with Maryechka, Obadiah’s grand-daughter, in tow). They start traveling together and helping each other in a war-torn country, and as they travel, they connect with other characters.
      Tone is light-hearted and warm, with at times some bitter-sweet irony, and it unfolds into a surprisingly enthralling saga, with some down-to-earth mysteries, adding up to a satisfying open-ended conclusion that brings some deep life learning about healing the past, accepting the present and living life to its potential.

      A potential plot structure begins to develop henceforth:

      Chapter 2: The Journey Begins

      Departure from the Nursing Home

      Olga and Egbert make their way out the front gate with Obadiah, who has decided to join them on their journey, and they set out on the road together.
      Maryechka, Obadiah’s granddaughter, decides to come along as well out of concern about the elders’, and the group sets off towards an unknown destination.

      A Stop at the Market

      The group stops at a bustling market in the town and begins to gather supplies for their journey.
      Olga and Egbert haggle with vendors over prices, while Obadiah and Maryechka explore the market and gather food for the road.
      The group encounters a strange man selling mysterious trinkets and potions, who tries to sell them a “luck” charm.

      An Unexpected Detour

      The group encounters a roadblock on their path and are forced to take a detour through a dense forest.
      They encounter a group of bandits on the road, who demand their supplies and valuables.
      Olga, Egbert, and Obadiah band together to outwit the bandits and escape, while Maryechka uses her wits to distract them.

      A Close Call with a Wild Beast

      The group comes across a dangerous wild animal on the road, who threatens to attack them.
      Obadiah uses his quick thinking to distract the beast, while Egbert and Olga come up with a plan to trap it.
      Maryechka uses her bravery to lure the beast into a trap, saving the group from certain danger.

      A Night Under the Stars

      The group sets up camp for the night, exhausted from their journey so far.
      They sit around a campfire, sharing stories and reminiscing about their pasts.
      As they gaze up at the stars, they reflect on the challenges they have faced so far and the journey ahead of them. They go to bed, filled with hope and a sense of camaraderie, ready for whatever comes next.

      #6481
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        This is the outline for a short novel called “The Jorid’s Travels – 14 years on” that will unfold in this thread.
        The novel is about the travels of Georges and Salomé.
        The Jorid is the name of the vessel that can travel through dimensions as well as time, within certain boundaries. The Jorid has been built and is operated by Georges and his companion Salomé.

        Short backstory for the main cast and secondary characters

        Georges was a French thief possibly from the 1800s, turned other-dimensional explorer, and together with Salomé, a girl of mysterious origins who he first met in the Alienor dimension but believed to have origins in Northern India maybe Tibet from a distant past.
        They have lived rich adventures together, and are deeply bound together, by love and mutual interests.
        Georges, with his handsome face, dark hair and amber gaze, is a bit of a daredevil at times, curious and engaging with others. He is very interesting in anything that shines, strange mechanisms and generally the ways consciousness works in living matter.
        Salomé, on the other hand is deeply intuitive, empath at times, quite logical and rational but also interested in mysticism, the ways of the Truth, and the “why” rather than the “how” of things.
        The world of Alienor (a pale green sun under which twin planets originally orbited – Duane, Murtuane – with an additional third, Phreal, home planet of the Guardians, an alien race of builders with god-like powers) lived through cataclysmic changes, finished by the time this story is told.
        The Jorid’s original prototype designed were crafted by Léonard, a mysterious figure, self-taught in the arts of dimensional magic in Alienor sects, acted as a mentor to Georges during his adventures. It is not known where he is now.
        The story starts with Georges and Salomé looking for Léonard to adjust and calibrate the tiles navigational array of the Jorid, who seems to be affected by the auto-generated tiles which behave in too predictible fashion, instead of allowing for deeper explorations in the dimensions of space/time or dimensions of consciousness.
        Leonard was last spotted in a desert in quadrant AVB 34-7•8 – Cosmic time triangulation congruent to 2023 AD Earth era. More precisely the sand deserts of Bluhm’Oxl in the Zathu sector.

        When they find Léonard, they are propelled in new adventures. They possibly encounter new companions, and some mystery to solve in a similar fashion to the Odyssey, or Robinsons Lost in Space.

        Being able to tune into the probable quantum realities, the Jorid is able to trace the plot of their adventures even before they’ve been starting to unfold in no less than 33 chapters, giving them evocative titles.

        Here are the 33 chapters for the glorious adventures with some keywords under each to give some hints to the daring adventurers.

        1. Chapter 1: The Search Begins – Georges and Salomé, Léonard, Zathu sector, Bluhm’Oxl, dimensional magic
        2. Chapter 2: A New Companion – unexpected ally, discovery, adventure
        3. Chapter 3: Into the Desert – Bluhm’Oxl, sand dunes, treacherous journey
        4. Chapter 4: The First Clue – search for Léonard, mystery, puzzle
        5. Chapter 5: The Oasis – rest, rekindling hope, unexpected danger
        6. Chapter 6: The Lost City – ancient civilization, artifacts, mystery
        7. Chapter 7: A Dangerous Encounter – hostile aliens, survival, bravery
        8. Chapter 8: A New Threat – ancient curse, ominous presence, danger
        9. Chapter 9: The Key to the Past – uncovering secrets, solving puzzles, unlocking power
        10. Chapter 10: The Guardian’s Temple – mystical portal, discovery, knowledge
        11. Chapter 11: The Celestial Map – space-time navigation, discovery, enlightenment
        12. Chapter 12: The First Step – journey through dimensions, bravery, adventure
        13. Chapter 13: The Cosmic Rift – strange anomalies, dangerous zones, exploration
        14. Chapter 14: A Surprising Discovery – unexpected allies, strange creatures, intrigue
        15. Chapter 15: The Memory Stones – ancient wisdom, unlock hidden knowledge, unlock the past
        16. Chapter 16: The Time Stream – navigating through time, adventure, danger
        17. Chapter 17: The Mirror Dimension – parallel world, alternate reality, discovery
        18. Chapter 18: A Distant Planet – alien world, strange cultures, exploration
        19. Chapter 19: The Starlight Forest – enchanted forest, secrets, danger
        20. Chapter 20: The Temple of the Mind – exploring consciousness, inner journey, enlightenment
        21. Chapter 21: The Sea of Souls – mystical ocean, hidden knowledge, inner peace
        22. Chapter 22: The Path of the Truth – search for meaning, self-discovery, enlightenment
        23. Chapter 23: The Cosmic Library – ancient knowledge, discovery, enlightenment
        24. Chapter 24: The Dream Plane – exploring the subconscious, self-discovery, enlightenment
        25. Chapter 25: The Shadow Realm – dark dimensions, fear, danger
        26. Chapter 26: The Fire Planet – intense heat, dangerous creatures, bravery
        27. Chapter 27: The Floating Islands – aerial adventure, strange creatures, discovery
        28. Chapter 28: The Crystal Caves – glittering beauty, hidden secrets, danger
        29. Chapter 29: The Eternal Night – unknown world, strange creatures, fear
        30. Chapter 30: The Lost Civilization – ancient ruins, mystery, adventure
        31. Chapter 31: The Vortex – intense energy, danger, bravery
        32. Chapter 32: The Cosmic Storm – weather extremes, danger, survival
        33. Chapter 33: The Return – reunion with Léonard, returning to the Jorid, new adventures.
        #6419

        In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

        “I’d advise you not to take the parrot, Zara,” Harry the vet said, “There are restrictions on bringing dogs and other animals into state parks, and you can bet some jobsworth official will insist she stays in a cage at the very least.”

        “Yeah, you’re right, I guess I’ll leave her here. I want to call in and see my cousin in Camden on the way to the airport in Sydney anyway.   He has dozens of cats, I’d hate for anything to happen to Pretty Girl,” Zara replied.

        “Is that the distant cousin you met when you were doing your family tree?” Harry asked, glancing up from the stitches he was removing from a wounded wombat.  “There, he’s good to go.  Give him a couple more days, then he can be released back where he came from.”

        Zara smiled at Harry as she picked up the animal. “Yes!  We haven’t met in person yet, and he’s going to show me the church my ancestor built. He says people have been spotting ghosts there lately, and there are rumours that it’s the ghost of the old convict Isaac who built it.  If I can’t find photos of the ancestors, maybe I can get photos of their ghosts instead,” Zara said with a laugh.

        “Good luck with that,” Harry replied raising an eyebrow. He liked Zara, she was quirkier than the others.

        Zara hadn’t found it easy to research her mothers family from Bangalore in India, but her fathers English family had been easy enough.  Although Zara had been born in England and emigrated to Australia in her late 20s, many of her ancestors siblings had emigrated over several generations, and Zara had managed to trace several down and made contact with a few of them.   Isaac Stokes wasn’t a direct ancestor, he was the brother of her fourth great grandfather but his story had intrigued her.  Sentenced to transportation for stealing tools for his work as a stonemason seemed to have worked in his favour.  He built beautiful stone buildings in a tiny new town in the 1800s in the charming style of his home town in England.

        Zara planned to stay in Camden for a couple of days before meeting the others at the Flying Fish Inn, anticipating a pleasant visit before the crazy adventure started.

         

        ~~~

         

        Zara stepped down from the bus, squinting in the bright sunlight and looking around for her newfound cousin  Bertie.   A lanky middle aged man in dungarees and a red baseball cap came forward with his hand extended.

        “Welcome to Camden, Zara I presume! Great to meet you!” he said shaking her hand and taking her rucksack.  Zara was taken aback to see the family resemblance to her grandfather.  So many scattered generations and yet there was still a thread of familiarity.  “I bet you’re hungry, let’s go and get some tucker at Belle’s Cafe, and then I bet you want to see the church first, hey?  Whoa, where’d that dang parrot come from?” Bertie said, ducking quickly as the bird swooped right in between them.

        “Oh no, it’s Pretty Girl!” exclaimed Zara. “She wasn’t supposed to come with me, I didn’t bring her! How on earth did you fly all this way to get here the same time as me?” she asked the parrot.

        “Pretty Girl has her ways, don’t forget to feed the parrot,” the bird replied with a squalk that resembled a mirthful guffaw.

        “That’s one strange parrot you got here, girl!” Bertie said in astonishment.

        “Well, seeing as you’re here now, Pretty Girl, you better come with us,” Zara said.

        “Obviously,” replied Pretty Girl.  It was hard to say for sure, but Zara was sure she detected an avian eye roll.

         

        ~~~

         

        They sat outside under a sunshade to eat rather than cause any upset inside the cafe.  Zara fancied an omelette but Pretty Girl objected, so she ordered hash browns instead and a fruit salad for the parrot.  Bertie was a good sport about the strange talking bird after his initial surprise.

        Bertie told her a bit about the ghost sightings, which had only started quite recently.  They started when I started researching him, Zara thought to herself, almost as if he was reaching out. Her imagination was running riot already.

         

        ghost of Isaac Stokes

         

        Bertie showed Zara around the church, a small building made of sandstone, but no ghost appeared in the bright heat of the afternoon.  He took her on a little tour of Camden, once a tiny outpost but now a suburb of the city, pointing out all the original buildings, in particular the ones that Isaac had built.  The church was walking distance of Bertie’s house and Zara decided to slip out and stroll over there after everyone had gone to bed.

        Bertie had kindly allowed Pretty Girl to stay in the guest bedroom with her, safe from the cats, and Zara intended that the parrot stay in the room, but Pretty Girl was having none of it and insisted on joining her.

        “Alright then, but no talking!  I  don’t want you scaring any ghost away so just keep a low profile!”

        The moon was nearly full and it was a pleasant walk to the church.   Pretty Girl fluttered from tree to tree along the sidewalk quietly.  Enchanting aromas of exotic scented flowers wafted into her nostrils and Zara felt warmly relaxed and optimistic.

        Zara was disappointed to find that the church was locked for the night, and realized with a sigh that she should have expected this to be the case.  She wandered around the outside, trying to peer in the windows but there was nothing to be seen as the glass reflected the street lights.   These things are not done in a hurry, she reminded herself, be patient.

        Sitting under a tree on the grassy lawn attempting to open her mind to receiving ghostly communications (she wasn’t quite sure how to do that on purpose, any ghosts she’d seen previously had always been accidental and unexpected)  Pretty Girl landed on her shoulder rather clumsily, pressing something hard and chill against her cheek.

        “I told you to keep a low profile!” Zara hissed, as the parrot dropped the key into her lap.  “Oh! is this the key to the church door?”

        It was hard to see in the dim light but Zara was sure the parrot nodded, and was that another avian eye roll?

        Zara walked slowly over the grass to the church door, tingling with anticipation.   Pretty Girl hopped along the ground behind her.  She turned the key in the lock and slowly pushed open the heavy door and walked inside and  up the central aisle, looking around.  And then she saw him.

        Zara gasped. For a breif moment as the spectral wisps cleared, he looked almost solid.  And she could see his tattoos.

        “Oh my god,” she whispered, “It is really you. I recognize those tattoos from the description in the criminal registers. Some of them anyway, it seems you have a few more tats since you were transported.”

        “Aye, I did that, wench. I were allays fond o’ me tats, does tha like ’em?”

        He actually spoke to me!  This was beyond Zara’s wildest hopes. Quick, ask him some questions!

        “If you don’t mind me asking, Isaac, why did you lie about who your father was on your marriage register?  I almost thought it wasn’t you, you know, that I had the wrong Isaac Stokes.”

        A deafening rumbling laugh filled the building with echoes and the apparition dispersed in a labyrinthine swirl of tattood wisps.

        “A story for another day,” whispered Zara,  “Time to go back to Berties. Come on Pretty Girl. And put that key back where you found it.”

         

        Ghost of Isaac Stokes

        #6416

        In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

        The team had to stop when a sandstorm hit them in the middle of the desert. They only had an hour drive left to reach the oasis where Lama Yoneze had been seen last and Miss Tartiflate insisted, like she always did, against the guides advice that they kept on going. She feared the last shaman would be lost in the storm, maybe croak stuffed with that damn dust. But when they lost the satellite dish and a jeep almost rolled down a sand dune, she finally listened to the guides. They had them park the cars close to each other, then checked the straps and urged everyone to stay in their cars until the storm was over.

        Youssef at first thought he was lucky. He managed to get into the same car as Tiff, the young intern he had discussed with the other day. But despite all their precautions, they couldn’t stop the dust to come in. It was everywhere and you had to kept your mouth and eyes shut if you didn’t want to grind your teeth with fine sand. So instead he enjoyed this unexpected respite from his trying to save THE BLOG from the evil Thi Gang, and from Miss Tartiflate’s continuous flow of criticism.

        The storm blew off the dish just after Xavier had sent him AL’s answer to the strange glyphs he had received on his phone. When Youssef read the message, he sighed. He had forgotten hope was an illusion. AL was in its infancy and was not a dead language expert. He gave them something fitting Youssef’s current location and the questions about famous alien dishes they asked him last week. It was just an old pot luck recipe from when the Silk Road was passing through the Gobi desert. He just hoped Xavier would have some luck until Youssef found a way to restore the connexion.

        #6409

        In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

        “What the…..!” Youssef exclaimed, almost throwing his phone to the ground for a second time that morning.  As if he wasn’t having enough trouble already without his phone sending him these messages.  But then an idea occurred to him, and he had another look at it.

        “Ah, now I see! Glimmer has intercepted the message from Gang Thi!”  Youssef smiled for the first time that day.  He still couldn’t decipher the strange script though, and wondered if it had been a mistake to not include her on the trip in the first place. He had thought her to be foolish and gaudy and not much practical use, but now he wasn’t so sure. He certainly hadn’t expected her to show up so soon, and in such an unexpected way.

        message from Glimmer

        #6391
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          write the plot of an absurd non-linear novel, featuring 4 characters

          The novel begins with the introduction of four characters: a retired archaeologist named Harold, a struggling musician named Samantha, a disillusioned corporate drone named Tim, and a reclusive inventor named Claire.

          Harold, who is obsessed with ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, discovers a mysterious underground chamber beneath a pyramid in Egypt. Inside, he finds a strange device that he believes is a time machine. Harold decides to use the device to travel back in time to ancient Egypt in order to decipher the hieroglyphs.

          Samantha, who is trying to make a name for herself as a musician, is struggling to come up with new material for her music. One day, she discovers that she can create beautiful music by communicating with plants telepathically. She becomes obsessed with this new form of music-making and decides to quit her day job and pursue it full-time.

          Tim, who is stuck in a dead-end job, is feeling unfulfilled and uninspired. One day, he stumbles upon a robotic mime performance art show. The performance inspires him to quit his job and pursue his dream of becoming a mime artist.

          Claire, who is a reclusive inventor, has been working on a project to create a type of artificial intelligence that can communicate with humans using calligraphic body language. She finally succeeds and creates an AI that she names “Calli”.

          As the story progresses, the characters’ paths begin to intersect in unexpected ways. Harold gets stuck in ancient Egypt and has to rely on Samantha’s telepathic plant communication skills to find a way back to the present. Tim’s robotic mime art becomes a hit and he starts working with Claire to integrate Calli into his performances.

          As the story reaches its climax, all four characters come together to use their unique skills and abilities to solve a problem that threatens the fate of the world.

          Throughout the novel, the plot unfolds in a non-linear fashion, jumping back and forth in time and between the different character’s perspectives. The story is filled with absurdity and unexpected twists and turns, leaving the reader guessing until the very end.

          What sort of problem that threatens the fate of the world will be resolved by their combined skills?

          As the story progresses, the characters begin to uncover a sinister plot by a group of powerful individuals who are intent on using the time machine to alter the course of history for their own gain. They plan to use the time machine to go back in time and change key events that would give them immense wealth and power in the present. Harold and Samantha, with the help of Tim and Claire, must race against time to stop the villains from carrying out their plan.

          Harold’s expertise in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs plays a crucial role in deciphering the clues that lead to the location of the time machine. Samantha’s telepathic plant communication skills are used to locate the hidden underground chamber where the time machine is kept. Tim’s robotic mime art and Claire’s AI Calli are used to infiltrate the villains’ hideout and gather intelligence on their plans.

          In the final act, the four characters come together to use their unique skills and abilities to stop the villains from altering history. Harold uses his knowledge of ancient Egypt to navigate the time machine and travel back in time to stop the villains from changing key events. Samantha uses her telepathic plant communication skills to communicate with the plants in the past and gather information on the villains’ whereabouts. Tim and Claire use their robotic mime and AI skills to create a diversion and distract the villains while Harold and Samantha complete their mission.

          In the end, the four characters succeed in stopping the villains and saving the fate of the world. The novel ends with the four characters going their separate ways, but they all know that they will always have each other to rely on in the face of any challenge that comes their way.

          #6390
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Trying to get some interesting unlikely, absurd associations or quests… Still some way to go!

            2 impossible associations

            1. The creation of a time machine using only household objects such as a toaster and a stapler.
            2. The discovery of a parallel universe accessible through a secret passageway hidden in a public park’s playground equipment.

            give an association of 3 or 4 words with each words being statistically probable to occur in every day conversation but with statistical probability of occurring together of less than 10^-57.

              1. “Giant robotic giraffe farming”
              2. “Vintage cars restoration using only expired food”
              3. “Archaeological board game design with only smells”
              4. “Artificial intelligence calligraphic body language assisted therapy”

            All the words in these associations are commonly used in everyday conversation, but the associations themselves are relatively unexpected, absurd, and may surprise people. They are all grounded in everyday happenstances but are less modern tech-oriented and the concepts they describe are related to diverse interests that may not be related to technology trend and are quite unexpected and bizarre..

            #6387

            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

            Yurara FamelikiYurara Fameliki
            Participant

              Words from the Cloud prompted me to write a story:

              song stayed act unexpected recall words spears bus learn king expected followed fright hot wore kianda picture walked playing coast dusty

              Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there was a Song that stayed in the hearts of the people. The Song was about an Act of bravery and sacrifice that had taken place many years ago. But one day, an unexpected recall of the Song was issued by the king. He had heard that the Song was not being sung correctly, and he wanted to make sure that the true story was being told. The people were puzzled, as they had learned the Song from their ancestors and had always thought it was accurate. But they followed the king’s orders and set out to learn the correct version of the Song. As they began to recall the words, they realized that there were some discrepancies. They had always sung about the hero wielding a sword, but the true story spoke of him wielding Spears. They were taken aback, but they knew they had to correct the Song. So, they set out on a journey to retrace the hero’s steps.

              As they traveled, they encountered unexpected challenges. They faced a bus that broke down, a coastline that was dusty and treacherous, and even a group of bandits. But they pressed on, determined to learn the truth.

              As they approached the hero’s final battle, they felt a sense of dread. They had heard that the enemy was fierce, and they were not prepared for what they would find. But they followed the path and soon found themselves at the edge of a hot, barren wasteland.

              The heroes wore their Kianda, traditional armor made of woven reeds, and stepped forward, ready for battle. But to their surprise, the enemy was nowhere to be found. Instead, they found a picture etched into the ground, depicting the hero and his enemy locked in a fierce battle.

              The people walked around the picture, marveling at the detail and skill of the artist. And as they looked closer, they saw that the hero was holding Spears, not a sword. They realized that they had learned the true story, and they felt a sense of pride and gratitude.

              With the Song corrected, they returned home, playing the new version for all to hear. And from that day on, the true story of the hero’s bravery and sacrifice was remembered, and the Song stayed in the hearts of the people forevermore.

              #6350
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Transportation

                Isaac Stokes 1804-1877

                 

                Isaac was born in Churchill, Oxfordshire in 1804, and was the youngest brother of my 4X great grandfather Thomas Stokes. The Stokes family were stone masons for generations in Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire, and Isaac’s occupation was a mason’s labourer in 1834 when he was sentenced at the Lent Assizes in Oxford to fourteen years transportation for stealing tools.

                Churchill where the Stokes stonemasons came from: on 31 July 1684 a fire destroyed 20 houses and many other buildings, and killed four people. The village was rebuilt higher up the hill, with stone houses instead of the old timber-framed and thatched cottages. The fire was apparently caused by a baker who, to avoid chimney tax, had knocked through the wall from her oven to her neighbour’s chimney.

                Isaac stole a pick axe, the value of 2 shillings and the property of Thomas Joyner of Churchill; a kibbeaux and a trowel value 3 shillings the property of Thomas Symms; a hammer and axe value 5 shillings, property of John Keen of Sarsden.

                (The word kibbeaux seems to only exists in relation to Isaac Stokes sentence and whoever was the first to write it was perhaps being creative with the spelling of a kibbo, a miners or a metal bucket. This spelling is repeated in the criminal reports and the newspaper articles about Isaac, but nowhere else).

                In March 1834 the Removal of Convicts was announced in the Oxford University and City Herald: Isaac Stokes and several other prisoners were removed from the Oxford county gaol to the Justitia hulk at Woolwich “persuant to their sentences of transportation at our Lent Assizes”.

                via digitalpanopticon:

                Hulks were decommissioned (and often unseaworthy) ships that were moored in rivers and estuaries and refitted to become floating prisons. The outbreak of war in America in 1775 meant that it was no longer possible to transport British convicts there. Transportation as a form of punishment had started in the late seventeenth century, and following the Transportation Act of 1718, some 44,000 British convicts were sent to the American colonies. The end of this punishment presented a major problem for the authorities in London, since in the decade before 1775, two-thirds of convicts at the Old Bailey received a sentence of transportation – on average 283 convicts a year. As a result, London’s prisons quickly filled to overflowing with convicted prisoners who were sentenced to transportation but had no place to go.

                To increase London’s prison capacity, in 1776 Parliament passed the “Hulks Act” (16 Geo III, c.43). Although overseen by local justices of the peace, the hulks were to be directly managed and maintained by private contractors. The first contract to run a hulk was awarded to Duncan Campbell, a former transportation contractor. In August 1776, the Justicia, a former transportation ship moored in the River Thames, became the first prison hulk. This ship soon became full and Campbell quickly introduced a number of other hulks in London; by 1778 the fleet of hulks on the Thames held 510 prisoners.
                Demand was so great that new hulks were introduced across the country. There were hulks located at Deptford, Chatham, Woolwich, Gosport, Plymouth, Portsmouth, Sheerness and Cork.

                The Justitia via rmg collections:

                Justitia

                Convicts perform hard labour at the Woolwich Warren. The hulk on the river is the ‘Justitia’. Prisoners were kept on board such ships for months awaiting deportation to Australia. The ‘Justitia’ was a 260 ton prison hulk that had been originally moored in the Thames when the American War of Independence put a stop to the transportation of criminals to the former colonies. The ‘Justitia’ belonged to the shipowner Duncan Campbell, who was the Government contractor who organized the prison-hulk system at that time. Campbell was subsequently involved in the shipping of convicts to the penal colony at Botany Bay (in fact Port Jackson, later Sydney, just to the north) in New South Wales, the ‘first fleet’ going out in 1788.

                 

                While searching for records for Isaac Stokes I discovered that another Isaac Stokes was transported to New South Wales in 1835 as well. The other one was a butcher born in 1809, sentenced in London for seven years, and he sailed on the Mary Ann. Our Isaac Stokes sailed on the Lady Nugent, arriving in NSW in April 1835, having set sail from England in December 1834.

                Lady Nugent was built at Bombay in 1813. She made four voyages under contract to the British East India Company (EIC). She then made two voyages transporting convicts to Australia, one to New South Wales and one to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania). (via Wikipedia)

                via freesettlerorfelon website:

                On 20 November 1834, 100 male convicts were transferred to the Lady Nugent from the Justitia Hulk and 60 from the Ganymede Hulk at Woolwich, all in apparent good health. The Lady Nugent departed Sheerness on 4 December 1834.

                SURGEON OLIVER SPROULE

                Oliver Sproule kept a Medical Journal from 7 November 1834 to 27 April 1835. He recorded in his journal the weather conditions they experienced in the first two weeks:

                ‘In the course of the first week or ten days at sea, there were eight or nine on the sick list with catarrhal affections and one with dropsy which I attribute to the cold and wet we experienced during that period beating down channel. Indeed the foremost berths in the prison at this time were so wet from leaking in that part of the ship, that I was obliged to issue dry beds and bedding to a great many of the prisoners to preserve their health, but after crossing the Bay of Biscay the weather became fine and we got the damp beds and blankets dried, the leaks partially stopped and the prison well aired and ventilated which, I am happy to say soon manifested a favourable change in the health and appearance of the men.

                Besides the cases given in the journal I had a great many others to treat, some of them similar to those mentioned but the greater part consisted of boils, scalds, and contusions which would not only be too tedious to enter but I fear would be irksome to the reader. There were four births on board during the passage which did well, therefore I did not consider it necessary to give a detailed account of them in my journal the more especially as they were all favourable cases.

                Regularity and cleanliness in the prison, free ventilation and as far as possible dry decks turning all the prisoners up in fine weather as we were lucky enough to have two musicians amongst the convicts, dancing was tolerated every afternoon, strict attention to personal cleanliness and also to the cooking of their victuals with regular hours for their meals, were the only prophylactic means used on this occasion, which I found to answer my expectations to the utmost extent in as much as there was not a single case of contagious or infectious nature during the whole passage with the exception of a few cases of psora which soon yielded to the usual treatment. A few cases of scurvy however appeared on board at rather an early period which I can attribute to nothing else but the wet and hardships the prisoners endured during the first three or four weeks of the passage. I was prompt in my treatment of these cases and they got well, but before we arrived at Sydney I had about thirty others to treat.’

                The Lady Nugent arrived in Port Jackson on 9 April 1835 with 284 male prisoners. Two men had died at sea. The prisoners were landed on 27th April 1835 and marched to Hyde Park Barracks prior to being assigned. Ten were under the age of 14 years.

                The Lady Nugent:

                Lady Nugent

                 

                Isaac’s distinguishing marks are noted on various criminal registers and record books:

                “Height in feet & inches: 5 4; Complexion: Ruddy; Hair: Light brown; Eyes: Hazel; Marks or Scars: Yes [including] DEVIL on lower left arm, TSIS back of left hand, WS lower right arm, MHDW back of right hand.”

                Another includes more detail about Isaac’s tattoos:

                “Two slight scars right side of mouth, 2 moles above right breast, figure of the devil and DEVIL and raised mole, lower left arm; anchor, seven dots half moon, TSIS and cross, back of left hand; a mallet, door post, A, mans bust, sun, WS, lower right arm; woman, MHDW and shut knife, back of right hand.”

                 

                Lady Nugent record book

                 

                From How tattoos became fashionable in Victorian England (2019 article in TheConversation by Robert Shoemaker and Zoe Alkar):

                “Historical tattooing was not restricted to sailors, soldiers and convicts, but was a growing and accepted phenomenon in Victorian England. Tattoos provide an important window into the lives of those who typically left no written records of their own. As a form of “history from below”, they give us a fleeting but intriguing understanding of the identities and emotions of ordinary people in the past.
                As a practice for which typically the only record is the body itself, few systematic records survive before the advent of photography. One exception to this is the written descriptions of tattoos (and even the occasional sketch) that were kept of institutionalised people forced to submit to the recording of information about their bodies as a means of identifying them. This particularly applies to three groups – criminal convicts, soldiers and sailors. Of these, the convict records are the most voluminous and systematic.
                Such records were first kept in large numbers for those who were transported to Australia from 1788 (since Australia was then an open prison) as the authorities needed some means of keeping track of them.”

                On the 1837 census Isaac was working for the government at Illiwarra, New South Wales. This record states that he arrived on the Lady Nugent in 1835. There are three other indent records for an Isaac Stokes in the following years, but the transcriptions don’t provide enough information to determine which Isaac Stokes it was. In April 1837 there was an abscondment, and an arrest/apprehension in May of that year, and in 1843 there was a record of convict indulgences.

                From the Australian government website regarding “convict indulgences”:

                “By the mid-1830s only six per cent of convicts were locked up. The vast majority worked for the government or free settlers and, with good behaviour, could earn a ticket of leave, conditional pardon or and even an absolute pardon. While under such orders convicts could earn their own living.”

                 

                In 1856 in Camden, NSW, Isaac Stokes married Catherine Daly. With no further information on this record it would be impossible to know for sure if this was the right Isaac Stokes. This couple had six children, all in the Camden area, but none of the records provided enough information. No occupation or place or date of birth recorded for Isaac Stokes.

                I wrote to the National Library of Australia about the marriage record, and their reply was a surprise! Issac and Catherine were married on 30 September 1856, at the house of the Rev. Charles William Rigg, a Methodist minister, and it was recorded that Isaac was born in Edinburgh in 1821, to parents James Stokes and Sarah Ellis!  The age at the time of the marriage doesn’t match Isaac’s age at death in 1877, and clearly the place of birth and parents didn’t match either. Only his fathers occupation of stone mason was correct.  I wrote back to the helpful people at the library and they replied that the register was in a very poor condition and that only two and a half entries had survived at all, and that Isaac and Catherines marriage was recorded over two pages.

                I searched for an Isaac Stokes born in 1821 in Edinburgh on the Scotland government website (and on all the other genealogy records sites) and didn’t find it. In fact Stokes was a very uncommon name in Scotland at the time. I also searched Australian immigration and other records for another Isaac Stokes born in Scotland or born in 1821, and found nothing.  I was unable to find a single record to corroborate this mysterious other Isaac Stokes.

                As the age at death in 1877 was correct, I assume that either Isaac was lying, or that some mistake was made either on the register at the home of the Methodist minster, or a subsequent mistranscription or muddle on the remnants of the surviving register.  Therefore I remain convinced that the Camden stonemason Isaac Stokes was indeed our Isaac from Oxfordshire.

                 

                I found a history society newsletter article that mentioned Isaac Stokes, stone mason, had built the Glenmore church, near Camden, in 1859.

                Glenmore Church

                 

                From the Wollondilly museum April 2020 newsletter:

                Glenmore Church Stokes

                 

                From the Camden History website:

                “The stone set over the porch of Glenmore Church gives the date of 1860. The church was begun in 1859 on land given by Joseph Moore. James Rogers of Picton was given the contract to build and local builder, Mr. Stokes, carried out the work. Elizabeth Moore, wife of Edward, laid the foundation stone. The first service was held on 19th March 1860. The cemetery alongside the church contains the headstones and memorials of the areas early pioneers.”

                 

                Isaac died on the 3rd September 1877. The inquest report puts his place of death as Bagdelly, near to Camden, and another death register has put Cambelltown, also very close to Camden.  His age was recorded as 71 and the inquest report states his cause of death was “rupture of one of the large pulmonary vessels of the lung”.  His wife Catherine died in childbirth in 1870 at the age of 43.

                 

                Isaac and Catherine’s children:

                William Stokes 1857-1928

                Catherine Stokes 1859-1846

                Sarah Josephine Stokes 1861-1931

                Ellen Stokes 1863-1932

                Rosanna Stokes 1865-1919

                Louisa Stokes 1868-1844.

                 

                It’s possible that Catherine Daly was a transported convict from Ireland.

                 

                Some time later I unexpectedly received a follow up email from The Oaks Heritage Centre in Australia.

                “The Gaudry papers which we have in our archive record him (Isaac Stokes) as having built: the church, the school and the teachers residence.  Isaac is recorded in the General return of convicts: 1837 and in Grevilles Post Office directory 1872 as a mason in Glenmore.”

                Isaac Stokes directory

                #6336
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The Hamstall Ridware Connection

                  Stubbs and Woods

                  Hamstall RidwareHamstall Ridware

                   

                   

                  Charles Tomlinson‘s (1847-1907) wife Emma Grattidge (1853-1911) was born in Wolverhampton, the daughter and youngest child of William Grattidge (1820-1887) born in Foston, Derbyshire, and Mary Stubbs (1819-1880), born in Burton on Trent, daughter of Solomon Stubbs.

                  Solomon Stubbs (1781-1857) was born in Hamstall Ridware in 1781, the son of Samuel and Rebecca.  Samuel Stubbs (1743-) and Rebecca Wood (1754-) married in 1769 in Darlaston.  Samuel and Rebecca had six other children, all born in Darlaston. Sadly four of them died in infancy. Son John was born in 1779 in Darlaston and died two years later in Hamstall Ridware in 1781, the same year that Solomon was born there.

                  But why did they move to Hamstall Ridware?

                  Samuel Stubbs was born in 1743 in Curdworth, Warwickshire (near to Birmingham).  I had made a mistake on the tree (along with all of the public trees on the Ancestry website) and had Rebecca Wood born in Cheddleton, Staffordshire.  Rebecca Wood from Cheddleton was also born in 1843, the right age for the marriage.  The Rebecca Wood born in Darlaston in 1754 seemed too young, at just fifteen years old at the time of the marriage.  I couldn’t find any explanation for why a woman from Cheddleton would marry in Darlaston and then move to Hamstall Ridware.  People didn’t usually move around much other than intermarriage with neighbouring villages, especially women.  I had a closer look at the Darlaston Rebecca, and did a search on her father William Wood.  I found his 1784 will online in which he mentions his daughter Rebecca, wife of Samuel Stubbs.  Clearly the right Rebecca Wood was the one born in Darlaston, which made much more sense.

                  An excerpt from William Wood’s 1784 will mentioning daughter Rebecca married to Samuel Stubbs:

                  Wm Wood will

                   

                  But why did they move to Hamstall Ridware circa 1780?

                  I had not intially noticed that Solomon Stubbs married again the year after his wife Phillis Lomas (1787-1844) died.  Solomon married Charlotte Bell in 1845 in Burton on Trent and on the marriage register, Solomon’s father Samuel Stubbs occupation was mentioned: Samuel was a buckle maker.

                  Marriage of Solomon Stubbs and Charlotte Bell, father Samuel Stubbs buckle maker:

                  Samuel Stubbs buckle maker

                   

                  A rudimentary search on buckle making in the late 1700s provided a possible answer as to why Samuel and Rebecca left Darlaston in 1781.  Shoe buckles had gone out of fashion, and by 1781 there were half as many buckle makers in Wolverhampton as there had been previously.

                  “Where there were 127 buckle makers at work in Wolverhampton, 68 in Bilston and 58 in Birmingham in 1770, their numbers had halved in 1781.”

                  via “historywebsite”(museum/metalware/steel)

                  Steel buckles had been the height of fashion, and the trade became enormous in Wolverhampton.  Wolverhampton was a steel working town, renowned for its steel jewellery which was probably of many types.  The trade directories show great numbers of “buckle makers”.  Steel buckles were predominantly made in Wolverhampton: “from the late 1760s cut steel comes to the fore, from the thriving industry of the Wolverhampton area”. Bilston was also a great centre of buckle making, and other areas included Walsall. (It should be noted that Darlaston, Walsall, Bilston and Wolverhampton are all part of the same area)

                  In 1860, writing in defence of the Wolverhampton Art School, George Wallis talks about the cut steel industry in Wolverhampton.  Referring to “the fine steel workers of the 17th and 18th centuries” he says: “Let them remember that 100 years ago [sc. c. 1760] a large trade existed with France and Spain in the fine steel goods of Birmingham and Wolverhampton, of which the latter were always allowed to be the best both in taste and workmanship.  … A century ago French and Spanish merchants had their houses and agencies at Birmingham for the purchase of the steel goods of Wolverhampton…..The Great Revolution in France put an end to the demand for fine steel goods for a time and hostile tariffs finished what revolution began”.

                   

                  The next search on buckle makers, Wolverhampton and Hamstall Ridware revealed an unexpected connecting link.

                  In Riotous Assemblies: Popular Protest in Hanoverian England by Adrian Randall:

                  Riotous Assembles

                  Hamstall Ridware

                  In Walsall in 1750 on “Restoration Day” a crowd numbering 300 assembled, mostly buckle makers,  singing  Jacobite songs and other rebellious and riotous acts.  The government was particularly worried about a curious meeting known as the “Jubilee” in Hamstall Ridware, which may have been part of a conspiracy for a Jacobite uprising.

                   

                  But this was thirty years before Samuel and Rebecca moved to Hamstall Ridware and does not help to explain why they moved there around 1780, although it does suggest connecting links.

                  Rebecca’s father, William Wood, was a brickmaker.  This was stated at the beginning of his will.  On closer inspection of the will, he was a brickmaker who owned four acres of brick kilns, as well as dwelling houses, shops, barns, stables, a brewhouse, a malthouse, cattle and land.

                  A page from the 1784 will of William Wood:

                  will Wm Wood

                   

                  The 1784 will of William Wood of Darlaston:

                  I William Wood the elder of Darlaston in the county of Stafford, brickmaker, being of sound and disposing mind memory and understanding (praised be to god for the same) do make publish and declare my last will and testament in manner and form following (that is to say) {after debts and funeral expense paid etc} I give to my loving wife Mary the use usage wear interest and enjoyment of all my goods chattels cattle stock in trade ~ money securities for money personal estate and effects whatsoever and wheresoever to hold unto her my said wife for and during the term of her natural life providing she so long continues my widow and unmarried and from or after her decease or intermarriage with any future husband which shall first happen.

                  Then I give all the said goods chattels cattle stock in trade money securites for money personal estate and effects unto my son Abraham Wood absolutely and forever. Also I give devise and bequeath unto my said wife Mary all that my messuages tenement or dwelling house together with the malthouse brewhouse barn stableyard garden and premises to the same belonging situate and being at Darlaston aforesaid and now in my own possession. Also all that messuage tenement or dwelling house together with the shop garden and premises with the appurtenances to the same ~ belonging situate in Darlaston aforesaid and now in the several holdings or occupation of George Knowles and Edward Knowles to hold the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances to my said wife Mary for and during the term of her natural life provided she so long continues my widow and unmarried. And from or after her decease or intermarriage with a future husband which shall first happen. Then I give and devise the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances unto my said son Abraham Wood his heirs and assigns forever.

                  Also I give unto my said wife all that piece or parcel of land or ground inclosed and taken out of Heath Field in the parish of Darlaston aforesaid containing four acres or thereabouts (be the same more or less) upon which my brick kilns erected and now in my own possession. To hold unto my said wife Mary until my said son Abraham attains his age of twenty one years if she so long continues my widow and unmarried as aforesaid and from and immediately after my said son Abraham attaining his age of twenty one years or my said wife marrying again as aforesaid which shall first happen then I give the said piece or parcel of land or ground and premises unto my said son Abraham his heirs and assigns forever.

                  And I do hereby charge all the aforesaid premises with the payment of the sum of twenty pounds a piece to each of my daughters namely Elizabeth the wife of Ambrose Dudall and Rebecca the wife of Samuel Stubbs which said sum of twenty pounds each I devise may be paid to them by my said son Abraham when and so soon as he attains his age of twenty one years provided always and my mind and will is that if my said son Abraham should happen to depart this life without leaving issue of his body lawfully begotten before he attains his age of twenty one years then I give and devise all the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances so given to my said son Abraham as aforesaid unto my said son William Wood and my said daughter Elizabeth Dudall and Rebecca Stubbs their heirs and assigns forever equally divided among them share and share alike as tenants in common and not as joint tenants. And lastly I do hereby nominate constitute and appoint my said wife Mary and my said son Abraham executrix and executor of this my will.

                   

                   

                  The marriage of William Wood (1725-1784) and Mary Clews (1715-1798) in 1749 was in Hamstall Ridware.

                  Wm Wood Mary Clews

                   

                  Mary was eleven years Williams senior, and it appears that they both came from Hamstall Ridware and moved to Darlaston after they married. Clearly Rebecca had extended family there (notwithstanding any possible connecting links between the Stubbs buckle makers of Darlaston and the Hamstall Ridware Jacobites thirty years prior).  When the buckle trade collapsed in Darlaston, they likely moved to find employment elsewhere, perhaps with the help of Rebecca’s family.

                  I have not yet been able to find deaths recorded anywhere for either Samuel or Rebecca (there are a couple of deaths recorded for a Samuel Stubbs, one in 1809 in Wolverhampton, and one in 1810 in Birmingham but impossible to say which, if either, is the right one with the limited information, and difficult to know if they stayed in the Hamstall Ridware area or perhaps moved elsewhere)~ or find a reason for their son Solomon to be in Burton upon Trent, an evidently prosperous man with several properties including an earthenware business, as well as a land carrier business.

                  #6312

                  In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                  When she’d heard of the miracle happening at the Flovlinden Tree, Egna initially shrugged it off as another conman’s attempt at fooling the crowds.

                  “No, it’s real, my Auntie saw it.”

                  “Stop fretting” she’d told the little girl, as she was carefully removing the lice from her hair. “This is just someone’s idea of a smart joke. Don’t get fooled, you’re smarter than this.”

                  She sure wasn’t responsible for that one. If that were a true miracle, she would have known. The little calf next week being resuscitated after being dead a few minutes, well, that was her. Shame nobody was even there to notice. Most of the best miracles go about this way anyway.

                  So, after having lived close to a millennia in relatively rock solid health and with surprisingly unaging looks, Egna had thought she’d seen it all; at least last time the tree started to ooze sacred oil, it didn’t last for too long, people’s greed starting to sell it stopped it right in its tracks.

                  But maybe there was more to it this time. Egna’d often wondered why God had let her live that long. She was a useful instrument to Her for sure, but living in secrecy, claiming no ownership, most miracles were just facts of life. She somehow failed to see the point, even after 957 years of existence.

                  The little girl had left to go back to her nearby town. This side of the country was still quite safe from all the craziness. Egna knew well most of the branches of the ancestral trees leading to that particular little leaf. This one had probably no idea she shared a common ancestor with President Voldomeer, but Egna remembered the fellow. He was a clogmaker in the turn of the 18th century, as was his father before. That was until a rather unexpected turn of events precipitated him to a different path as his brother.

                  She had a book full of these records, as she’d tracked the lives of many, to keep them alive, and maybe remind people they all share so much in common. That is, if people were able to remember more than 2 generations before them.

                  “Well, that’s set.” she said to herself and to Her as She’s always listening “I’ll go and see for myself.”
                  her trusty old musty cloak at the door seemed to have been begging for the journey.

                  #6310

                  In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                  Olek wished he wasn’t so easy to find.

                  The old caretaker of the shrine of Saint Edigna couldn’t have chosen a less conspicuous place to live in this warring time. People were flocking from afar, more and more each day drawn about by the ancient place, and the sacred oil bleeding linden tree which had suddenly and quite miraculously resumed its flow in the midst of the ambiant chaos started by the war.

                  It wasn’t always like this. A few months ago, the linden tree was just an old linden tree that may or may not have been miraculous, if the old wifes’ tales were to be trusted. Mankind’s memory is a flimsy thing as it occurs, and while for many generations before, speculations had abounded about whether or not the Saint was real, had such or such filiation, et cætera— it now seemed the old tales that were passed down from mother to children had managed to keep alive a knowledge that had but all dried up on old flaky parchments scribbled in pale inks that kept eluding old scholars’ exegesis.

                  Olek himself wasn’t a learned man. A man of faith, he was a little — more by upbringing than by choice, and by slow attunement to nature it would seem. Over the years, he’d be servicing the country in many ways, and after a rather long carrier started at young age, he had finally managed to retire in this place.
                  He thought he’d be left alone, to care for a little garden patch, checking in from times to times on the old grumpy neighbours, but alas, the Holy Nation’s destiny still had something in store for him.

                  The latest pilgrim family had brought a message. It was another push to action. “Plan acceleration needs to happen”.
                  “What clucking plan again?” was his first reaction. Bad temper had a way of flaring right up his vents as in old times. When he’d calmed down, he wondered if he had ever seen a call for slowing down in his life. People were always so busy mindlessly carting around, bumping into the darkness.

                  He smiled thinking of something his old man used to say. He’d never planned for a thing in his life, and was always very carefree it was often scary. His mantra was “People are always getting prepared for the wrong things. They never can prepare for the unexpected, and surely enough, only the unexpected happens.”
                  That sort of chaos paddling approach to life didn’t seem to bring him any sort of extraordinary success, and while he had the same mixed bag of ups and downs as the rest of his compatriots, just so much less did he suffer for the same result! Olek guessed that was the whole point, even if he really couldn’t accept it until much later in life.

                  Maybe Olek would start playing by his father’s book. Until he could find a way to get lost behind enemy lines.

                  #6263
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    From Tanganyika with Love

                    continued  ~ part 4

                    With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                    Mchewe Estate. 31st January 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    Life is very quiet just now. Our neighbours have left and I miss them all especially
                    Joni who was always a great bearer of news. We also grew fond of his Swedish
                    brother-in-law Max, whose loud ‘Hodi’ always brought a glad ‘Karibu’ from us. His wife,
                    Marion, I saw less often. She is not strong and seldom went visiting but has always
                    been friendly and kind and ready to share her books with me.

                    Ann’s birthday is looming ahead and I am getting dreadfully anxious that her
                    parcels do not arrive in time. I am delighted that you were able to get a good head for
                    her doll, dad, but horrified to hear that it was so expensive. You would love your
                    ‘Charming Ann’. She is a most responsible little soul and seems to have outgrown her
                    mischievous ways. A pity in a way, I don’t want her to grow too serious. You should see
                    how thoroughly Ann baths and towels herself. She is anxious to do Georgie and Kate
                    as well.

                    I did not mean to teach Ann to write until after her fifth birthday but she has taught
                    herself by copying the large print in newspaper headlines. She would draw a letter and
                    ask me the name and now I find that at four Ann knows the whole alphabet. The front
                    cement steps is her favourite writing spot. She uses bits of white clay we use here for
                    whitewashing.

                    Coffee prices are still very low and a lot of planters here and at Mbosi are in a
                    mess as they can no longer raise mortgages on their farms or get advances from the
                    Bank against their crops. We hear many are leaving their farms to try their luck on the
                    Diggings.

                    George is getting fed up too. The snails are back on the shamba and doing
                    frightful damage. Talk of the plagues of Egypt! Once more they are being collected in
                    piles and bashed into pulp. The stench on the shamba is frightful! The greybeards in the
                    village tell George that the local Chief has put a curse on the farm because he is angry
                    that the Government granted George a small extension to the farm two years ago! As
                    the Chief was consulted at the time and was agreeable this talk of a curse is nonsense
                    but goes to show how the uneducated African put all disasters down to witchcraft.

                    With much love,
                    Eleanor.

                    Mchewe Estate. 9th February 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    Ann’s birthday yesterday was not quite the gay occasion we had hoped. The
                    seventh was mail day so we sent a runner for the mail, hoping against hope that your
                    parcel containing the dolls head had arrived. The runner left for Mbeya at dawn but, as it
                    was a very wet day, he did not return with the mail bag until after dark by which time Ann
                    was fast asleep. My heart sank when I saw the parcel which contained the dolls new
                    head. It was squashed quite flat. I shed a few tears over that shattered head, broken
                    quite beyond repair, and George felt as bad about it as I did. The other parcel arrived in
                    good shape and Ann loves her little sewing set, especially the thimble, and the nursery
                    rhymes are a great success.

                    Ann woke early yesterday and began to open her parcels. She said “But
                    Mummy, didn’t Barbara’s new head come?” So I had to show her the fragments.
                    Instead of shedding the flood of tears I expected, Ann just lifted the glass eyes in her
                    hand and said in a tight little voice “Oh poor Barbara.” George saved the situation. as
                    usual, by saying in a normal voice,”Come on Ann, get up and lets play your new
                    records.” So we had music and sweets before breakfast. Later I removed Barbara’s
                    faded old blond wig and gummed on the glossy new brown one and Ann seems quite
                    satisfied.

                    Last night, after the children were tucked up in bed, we discussed our financial
                    situation. The coffee trees that have survived the plagues of borer beetle, mealie bugs
                    and snails look strong and fine, but George says it will be years before we make a living
                    out of the farm. He says he will simply have to make some money and he is leaving for
                    the Lupa on Saturday to have a look around on the Diggings. If he does decide to peg
                    a claim and work it he will put up a wattle and daub hut and the children and I will join him
                    there. But until such time as he strikes gold I shall have to remain here on the farm and
                    ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’.

                    Now don’t go and waste pity on me. Women all over the country are having to
                    stay at home whilst their husbands search for a livelihood. I am better off than most
                    because I have a comfortable little home and loyal servants and we still have enough
                    capitol to keep the wolf from the door. Anyway this is the rainy season and hardly the
                    best time to drag three small children around the sodden countryside on prospecting
                    safaris.

                    So I’ll stay here at home and hold thumbs that George makes a lucky strike.

                    Heaps of love to all,
                    Eleanor.

                    Mchewe Estate. 27th February 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    Well, George has gone but here we are quite safe and cosy. Kate is asleep and
                    Ann and Georgie are sprawled on the couch taking it in turns to enumerate the things
                    God has made. Every now and again Ann bothers me with an awkward question. “Did
                    God make spiders? Well what for? Did he make weeds? Isn’t He silly, mummy? She is
                    becoming a very practical person. She sews surprisingly well for a four year old and has
                    twice made cakes in the past week, very sweet and liberally coloured with cochineal and
                    much appreciated by Georgie.

                    I have been without George for a fortnight and have adapted myself to my new
                    life. The children are great company during the day and I have arranged my evenings so
                    that they do not seem long. I am determined that when George comes home he will find
                    a transformed wife. I read an article entitled ‘Are you the girl he married?’ in a magazine
                    last week and took a good look in the mirror and decided that I certainly was not! Hair dry,
                    skin dry, and I fear, a faint shadow on the upper lip. So now I have blown the whole of
                    your Christmas Money Order on an order to a chemist in Dar es Salaam for hair tonic,
                    face cream and hair remover and am anxiously awaiting the parcel.

                    In the meantime, after tucking the children into bed at night, I skip on the verandah
                    and do the series of exercises recommended in the magazine article. After this exertion I
                    have a leisurely bath followed by a light supper and then read or write letters to pass
                    the time until Kate’s ten o’clock feed. I have arranged for Janey to sleep in the house.
                    She comes in at 9.30 pm and makes up her bed on the living room floor by the fire.

                    The days are by no means uneventful. The day before yesterday the biggest
                    troop of monkeys I have ever seen came fooling around in the trees and on the grass
                    only a few yards from the house. These monkeys were the common grey monkeys
                    with black faces. They came in all sizes and were most entertaining to watch. Ann and
                    Georgie had a great time copying their antics and pulling faces at the monkeys through
                    the bedroom windows which I hastily closed.

                    Thomas, our headman, came running up and told me that this troop of monkeys
                    had just raided his maize shamba and asked me to shoot some of them. I would not of
                    course do this. I still cannot bear to kill any animal, but I fired a couple of shots in the air
                    and the monkeys just melted away. It was fantastic, one moment they were there and
                    the next they were not. Ann and Georgie thought I had been very unkind to frighten the
                    poor monkeys but honestly, when I saw what they had done to my flower garden, I
                    almost wished I had hardened my heart and shot one or two.

                    The children are all well but Ann gave me a nasty fright last week. I left Ann and
                    Georgie at breakfast whilst I fed Fanny, our bull terrier on the back verandah. Suddenly I
                    heard a crash and rushed inside to find Ann’s chair lying on its back and Ann beside it on
                    the floor perfectly still and with a paper white face. I shouted for Janey to bring water and
                    laid Ann flat on the couch and bathed her head and hands. Soon she sat up with a wan
                    smile and said “I nearly knocked my head off that time, didn’t I.” She must have been
                    standing on the chair and leaning against the back. Our brick floors are so terribly hard that
                    she might have been seriously hurt.

                    However she was none the worse for the fall, but Heavens, what an anxiety kids
                    are.

                    Lots of love,
                    Eleanor

                    Mchewe Estate. 12th March 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    It was marvellous of you to send another money order to replace the one I spent
                    on cosmetics. With this one I intend to order boots for both children as a protection from
                    snake bite, though from my experience this past week the threat seems to be to the
                    head rather than the feet. I was sitting on the couch giving Kate her morning milk from a
                    cup when a long thin snake fell through the reed ceiling and landed with a thud just behind
                    the couch. I shouted “Nyoka, Nyoka!” (Snake,Snake!) and the houseboy rushed in with
                    a stick and killed the snake. I then held the cup to Kate’s mouth again but I suppose in
                    my agitation I tipped it too much because the baby choked badly. She gasped for
                    breath. I quickly gave her a sharp smack on the back and a stream of milk gushed
                    through her mouth and nostrils and over me. Janey took Kate from me and carried her
                    out into the fresh air on the verandah and as I anxiously followed her through the door,
                    another long snake fell from the top of the wall just missing me by an inch or so. Luckily
                    the houseboy still had the stick handy and dispatched this snake also.

                    The snakes were a pair of ‘boomslangs’, not nice at all, and all day long I have
                    had shamba boys coming along to touch hands and say “Poli Memsahib” – “Sorry
                    madam”, meaning of course ‘Sorry you had a fright.’

                    Apart from that one hectic morning this has been a quiet week. Before George
                    left for the Lupa he paid off most of the farm hands as we can now only afford a few
                    labourers for the essential work such as keeping the weeds down in the coffee shamba.
                    There is now no one to keep the grass on the farm roads cut so we cannot use the pram
                    when we go on our afternoon walks. Instead Janey carries Kate in a sling on her back.
                    Janey is a very clean slim woman, and her clothes are always spotless, so Kate keeps
                    cool and comfortable. Ann and Georgie always wear thick overalls on our walks as a
                    protection against thorns and possible snakes. We usually make our way to the
                    Mchewe River where Ann and Georgie paddle in the clear cold water and collect shiny
                    stones.

                    The cosmetics parcel duly arrived by post from Dar es Salaam so now I fill the
                    evenings between supper and bed time attending to my face! The much advertised
                    cream is pink and thick and feels revolting. I smooth it on before bedtime and keep it on
                    all night. Just imagine if George could see me! The advertisements promise me a skin
                    like a rose in six weeks. What a surprise there is in store for George!

                    You will have been wondering what has happened to George. Well on the Lupa
                    he heard rumours of a new gold strike somewhere in the Sumbawanga District. A couple
                    of hundred miles from here I think, though I am not sure where it is and have no one to
                    ask. You look it up on the map and tell me. John Molteno is also interested in this and
                    anxious to have it confirmed so he and George have come to an agreement. John
                    Molteno provided the porters for the journey together with prospecting tools and
                    supplies but as he cannot leave his claims, or his gold buying business, George is to go
                    on foot to the area of the rumoured gold strike and, if the strike looks promising will peg
                    claims in both their names.

                    The rainy season is now at its height and the whole countryside is under water. All
                    roads leading to the area are closed to traffic and, as there are few Europeans who
                    would attempt the journey on foot, George proposes to get a head start on them by
                    making this uncomfortable safari. I have just had my first letter from George since he left
                    on this prospecting trip. It took ages to reach me because it was sent by runner to
                    Abercorn in Northern Rhodesia, then on by lorry to Mpika where it was put on a plane
                    for Mbeya. George writes the most charming letters which console me a little upon our
                    all too frequent separations.

                    His letter was cheerful and optimistic, though reading between the lines I should
                    say he had a grim time. He has reached Sumbawanga after ‘a hell of a trip’, to find that
                    the rumoured strike was at Mpanda and he had a few more days of foot safari ahead.
                    He had found the trip from the Lupa even wetter than he had expected. The party had
                    three days of wading through swamps sometimes waist deep in water. Of his sixteen
                    porters, four deserted an the second day out and five others have had malaria and so
                    been unable to carry their loads. He himself is ‘thin but very fit’, and he sounds full of
                    beans and writes gaily of the marvellous holiday we will have if he has any decent luck! I
                    simply must get that mink and diamonds complexion.

                    The frustrating thing is that I cannot write back as I have no idea where George is
                    now.

                    With heaps of love,
                    Eleanor.

                    Mchewe Estate. 24th March 1936

                    Dearest Family,
                    How kind you are. Another parcel from home. Although we are very short
                    of labourers I sent a special runner to fetch it as Ann simply couldn’t bear the suspense
                    of waiting to see Brenda, “My new little girl with plaits.” Thank goodness Brenda is
                    unbreakable. I could not have born another tragedy. She really is an exquisite little doll
                    and has hardly been out of Ann’s arms since arrival. She showed Brenda proudly to all
                    the staff. The kitchen boy’s face was a study. His eyes fairly came out on sticks when he
                    saw the dolls eyes not only opening and shutting, but moving from side to side in that
                    incredibly lifelike way. Georgie loves his little model cars which he carries around all day
                    and puts under his pillow at night.

                    As for me, I am enchanted by my very smart new frock. Janey was so lavish with
                    her compliments when I tried the frock on, that in a burst of generosity I gave her that
                    rather tartish satin and lace trousseau nighty, and she was positively enthralled. She
                    wore it that very night when she appeared as usual to doss down by the fire.
                    By the way it was Janey’s turn to have a fright this week. She was in the
                    bathroom washing the children’s clothes in an outsize hand basin when it happened. As
                    she took Georgie’s overalls from the laundry basket a large centipede ran up her bare
                    arm. Luckily she managed to knock the centipede off into the hot water in the hand basin.
                    It was a brute, about six inches long of viciousness with a nasty sting. The locals say that
                    the bite is much worse than a scorpions so Janey had a lucky escape.

                    Kate cut her first two teeth yesterday and will, I hope, sleep better now. I don’t
                    feel that pink skin food is getting a fair trial with all those broken nights. There is certainly
                    no sign yet of ‘The skin he loves to touch”. Kate, I may say, is rosy and blooming. She
                    can pull herself upright providing she has something solid to hold on to. She is so plump
                    I have horrible visions of future bow legs so I push her down, but she always bobs up
                    again.

                    Both Ann and Georgie are mad on books. Their favourites are ‘Barbar and
                    Celeste” and, of all things, ‘Struvel Peter’ . They listen with absolute relish to the sad tale
                    of Harriet who played with matches.

                    I have kept a laugh for the end. I am hoping that it will not be long before George
                    comes home and thought it was time to take the next step towards glamour, so last
                    Wednesday after lunch I settled the children on their beds and prepared to remove the ,
                    to me, obvious down on my upper lip. (George always loyally says that he can’t see
                    any.) Well I got out the tube of stuff and carefully followed the directions. I smoothed a
                    coating on my upper lip. All this was watched with great interest by the children, including
                    the baby, who stood up in her cot for a better view. Having no watch, I had propped
                    the bedroom door open so that I could time the operation by the cuckoo clock in the
                    living room. All the children’s surprised comments fell on deaf ears. I would neither talk
                    nor smile for fear of cracking the hair remover which had set hard. The set time was up
                    and I was just about to rinse the remover off when Kate slipped, knocking her head on
                    the corner of the cot. I rushed to the rescue and precious seconds ticked off whilst I
                    pacified her.

                    So, my dears, when I rinsed my lip, not only the plaster and the hair came away
                    but the skin as well and now I really did have a Ronald Coleman moustache – a crimson
                    one. I bathed it, I creamed it, powdered it but all to no avail. Within half an hour my lip
                    had swollen until I looked like one of those Duckbilled West African women. Ann’s
                    comments, “Oh Mummy, you do look funny. Georgie, doesn’t Mummy look funny?”
                    didn’t help to soothe me and the last straw was that just then there was the sound of a car drawing up outside – the first car I had heard for months. Anyway, thank heaven, it
                    was not George, but the representative of a firm which sells agricultural machinery and
                    farm implements, looking for orders. He had come from Dar es Salaam and had not
                    heard that all the planters from this district had left their farms. Hospitality demanded that I
                    should appear and offer tea. I did not mind this man because he was a complete
                    stranger and fat, middle aged and comfortable. So I gave him tea, though I didn’t
                    attempt to drink any myself, and told him the whole sad tale.

                    Fortunately much of the swelling had gone next day and only a brown dryness
                    remained. I find myself actually hoping that George is delayed a bit longer. Of one thing
                    I am sure. If ever I grow a moustache again, it stays!

                    Heaps of love from a sadder but wiser,
                    Eleanor

                    Mchewe Estate. 3rd April 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    Sound the trumpets, beat the drums. George is home again. The safari, I am sad
                    to say, was a complete washout in more ways than one. Anyway it was lovely to be
                    together again and we don’t yet talk about the future. The home coming was not at all as
                    I had planned it. I expected George to return in our old A.C. car which gives ample
                    warning of its arrival. I had meant to wear my new frock and make myself as glamourous
                    as possible, with our beautiful babe on one arm and our other jewels by my side.
                    This however is what actually happened. Last Saturday morning at about 2 am , I
                    thought I heard someone whispering my name. I sat up in bed, still half asleep, and
                    there was George at the window. He was thin and unshaven and the tiredest looking
                    man I have ever seen. The car had bogged down twenty miles back along the old Lupa
                    Track, but as George had had no food at all that day, he decided to walk home in the
                    bright moonlight.

                    This is where I should have served up a tasty hot meal but alas, there was only
                    the heal of a loaf and no milk because, before going to bed I had given the remaining
                    milk to the dog. However George seemed too hungry to care what he ate. He made a
                    meal off a tin of bully, a box of crustless cheese and the bread washed down with cup
                    after cup of black tea. Though George was tired we talked for hours and it was dawn
                    before we settled down to sleep.

                    During those hours of talk George described his nightmarish journey. He started
                    up the flooded Rukwa Valley and there were days of wading through swamp and mud
                    and several swollen rivers to cross. George is a strong swimmer and the porters who
                    were recruited in that area, could also swim. There remained the problem of the stores
                    and of Kianda the houseboy who cannot swim. For these they made rough pole rafts
                    which they pulled across the rivers with ropes. Kianda told me later that he hopes never
                    to make such a journey again. He swears that the raft was submerged most of the time
                    and that he was dragged through the rivers underwater! You should see the state of
                    George’s clothes which were packed in a supposedly water tight uniform trunk. The
                    whole lot are mud stained and mouldy.

                    To make matters more trying for George he was obliged to live mostly on
                    porters rations, rice and groundnut oil which he detests. As all the district roads were
                    closed the little Indian Sores in the remote villages he passed had been unable to
                    replenish their stocks of European groceries. George would have been thinner had it not
                    been for two Roman Catholic missions enroute where he had good meals and dry
                    nights. The Fathers are always wonderfully hospitable to wayfarers irrespective of
                    whether or not they are Roman Catholics. George of course is not a Catholic. One finds
                    the Roman Catholic missions right out in the ‘Blue’ and often on spots unhealthy to
                    Europeans. Most of the Fathers are German or Dutch but they all speak a little English
                    and in any case one can always fall back on Ki-Swahili.

                    George reached his destination all right but it soon became apparent that reports
                    of the richness of the strike had been greatly exaggerated. George had decided that
                    prospects were brighter on the Lupa than on the new strike so he returned to the Lupa
                    by the way he had come and, having returned the borrowed equipment decided to
                    make his way home by the shortest route, the old and now rarely used road which
                    passes by the bottom of our farm.

                    The old A.C. had been left for safe keeping at the Roman Catholic Galala
                    Mission 40 miles away, on George’s outward journey, and in this old car George, and
                    the houseboy Kianda , started for home. The road was indescribably awful. There were long stretches that were simply one big puddle, in others all the soil had been washed
                    away leaving the road like a rocky river bed. There were also patches where the tall
                    grass had sprung up head high in the middle of the road,
                    The going was slow because often the car bogged down because George had
                    no wheel chains and he and Kianda had the wearisome business of digging her out. It
                    was just growing dark when the old A.C. settled down determinedly in the mud for the
                    last time. They could not budge her and they were still twenty miles from home. George
                    decided to walk home in the moonlight to fetch help leaving Kianda in charge of the car
                    and its contents and with George’s shot gun to use if necessary in self defence. Kianda
                    was reluctant to stay but also not prepared to go for help whilst George remained with
                    the car as lions are plentiful in that area. So George set out unarmed in the moonlight.
                    Once he stopped to avoid a pride of lion coming down the road but he circled safely
                    around them and came home without any further alarms.

                    Kianda said he had a dreadful night in the car, “With lions roaming around the car
                    like cattle.” Anyway the lions did not take any notice of the car or of Kianda, and the next
                    day George walked back with all our farm boys and dug and pushed the car out of the
                    mud. He brought car and Kianda back without further trouble but the labourers on their
                    way home were treed by the lions.

                    The wet season is definitely the time to stay home.

                    Lots and lots of love,
                    Eleanor

                    Mchewe Estate. 30th April 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    Young George’s third birthday passed off very well yesterday. It started early in
                    the morning when he brought his pillow slip of presents to our bed. Kate was already
                    there and Ann soon joined us. Young George liked all the presents you sent, especially
                    the trumpet. It has hardly left his lips since and he is getting quite smart about the finger
                    action.

                    We had quite a party. Ann and I decorated the table with Christmas tree tinsel
                    and hung a bunch of balloons above it. Ann also decorated young George’s chair with
                    roses and phlox from the garden. I had made and iced a fruit cake but Ann begged to
                    make a plain pink cake. She made it entirely by herself though I stood by to see that
                    she measured the ingredients correctly. When the cake was baked I mixed some soft
                    icing in a jug and she poured it carefully over the cake smoothing the gaps with her
                    fingers!

                    During the party we had the gramophone playing and we pulled crackers and
                    wore paper hats and altogether had a good time. I forgot for a while that George is
                    leaving again for the Lupa tomorrow for an indefinite time. He was marvellous at making
                    young George’s party a gay one. You will have noticed the change from Georgie to
                    young George. Our son declares that he now wants to be called George, “Like Dad”.
                    He an Ann are a devoted couple and I am glad that there is only a fourteen
                    months difference in their ages. They play together extremely well and are very
                    independent which is just as well for little Kate now demands a lot of my attention. My
                    garden is a real cottage garden and looks very gay and colourful. There are hollyhocks
                    and Snapdragons, marigolds and phlox and of course the roses and carnations which, as
                    you know, are my favourites. The coffee shamba does not look so good because the
                    small labour force, which is all we can afford, cannot cope with all the weeds. You have
                    no idea how things grow during the wet season in the tropics.

                    Nothing alarming ever seems to happen when George is home, so I’m afraid this
                    letter is rather dull. I wanted you to know though, that largely due to all your gifts of toys
                    and sweets, Georgie’s 3rd birthday party went with a bang.

                    Your very affectionate,
                    Eleanor

                    Mchewe Estate. 17th September 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    I am sorry to hear that Mummy worries about me so much. “Poor Eleanor”,
                    indeed! I have a quite exceptional husband, three lovely children, a dear little home and
                    we are all well.It is true that I am in rather a rut but what else can we do? George comes
                    home whenever he can and what excitement there is when he does come. He cannot
                    give me any warning because he has to take advantage of chance lifts from the Diggings
                    to Mbeya, but now that he is prospecting nearer home he usually comes walking over
                    the hills. About 50 miles of rough going. Really and truly I am all right. Although our diet is
                    monotonous we have plenty to eat. Eggs and milk are cheap and fruit plentiful and I
                    have a good cook so can devote all my time to the children. I think it is because they are
                    my constant companions that Ann and Georgie are so grown up for their years.
                    I have no ayah at present because Janey has been suffering form rheumatism
                    and has gone home for one of her periodic rests. I manage very well without her except
                    in the matter of the afternoon walks. The outward journey is all right. George had all the
                    grass cut on his last visit so I am able to push the pram whilst Ann, George and Fanny
                    the dog run ahead. It is the uphill return trip that is so trying. Our walk back is always the
                    same, down the hill to the river where the children love to play and then along the car
                    road to the vegetable garden. I never did venture further since the day I saw a leopard
                    jump on a calf. I did not tell you at the time as I thought you might worry. The cattle were
                    grazing on a small knoll just off our land but near enough for me to have a clear view.
                    Suddenly the cattle scattered in all directions and we heard the shouts of the herd boys
                    and saw – or rather had the fleeting impression- of a large animal jumping on a calf. I
                    heard the herd boy shout “Chui, Chui!” (leopard) and believe me, we turned in our
                    tracks and made for home. To hasten things I picked up two sticks and told the children
                    that they were horses and they should ride them home which they did with
                    commendable speed.

                    Ann no longer rides Joseph. He became increasingly bad tempered and a
                    nuisance besides. He took to rolling all over my flower beds though I had never seen
                    him roll anywhere else. Then one day he kicked Ann in the chest, not very hard but
                    enough to send her flying. Now George has given him to the native who sells milk to us
                    and he seems quite happy grazing with the cattle.

                    With love to you all,
                    Eleanor.

                    Mchewe Estate. 2nd October 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    Since I last wrote George has been home and we had a lovely time as usual.
                    Whilst he was here the District Commissioner and his wife called. Mr Pollock told
                    George that there is to be a big bush clearing scheme in some part of the Mbeya
                    District to drive out Tsetse Fly. The game in the area will have to be exterminated and
                    there will probably be a job for George shooting out the buffalo. The pay would be
                    good but George says it is a beastly job. Although he is a professional hunter, he hates
                    slaughter.

                    Mrs P’s real reason for visiting the farm was to invite me to stay at her home in
                    Mbeya whilst she and her husband are away in Tukuyu. Her English nanny and her small
                    daughter will remain in Mbeya and she thought it might be a pleasant change for us and
                    a rest for me as of course Nanny will do the housekeeping. I accepted the invitation and I
                    think I will go on from there to Tukuyu and visit my friend Lillian Eustace for a fortnight.
                    She has given us an open invitation to visit her at any time.

                    I had a letter from Dr Eckhardt last week, telling me that at a meeting of all the
                    German Settlers from Mbeya, Tukuyu and Mbosi it had been decided to raise funds to
                    build a school at Mbeya. They want the British Settlers to co-operate in this and would
                    be glad of a subscription from us. I replied to say that I was unable to afford a
                    subscription at present but would probably be applying for a teaching job.
                    The Eckhardts are the leaders of the German community here and are ardent
                    Nazis. For this reason they are unpopular with the British community but he is the only
                    doctor here and I must say they have been very decent to us. Both of them admire
                    George. George has still not had any luck on the Lupa and until he makes a really
                    promising strike it is unlikely that the children and I will join him. There is no fresh milk there
                    and vegetables and fruit are imported from Mbeya and Iringa and are very expensive.
                    George says “You wouldn’t be happy on the diggings anyway with a lot of whores and
                    their bastards!”

                    Time ticks away very pleasantly here. Young George and Kate are blooming
                    and I keep well. Only Ann does not look well. She is growing too fast and is listless and
                    pale. If I do go to Mbeya next week I shall take her to the doctor to be overhauled.
                    We do not go for our afternoon walks now that George has returned to the Lupa.
                    That leopard has been around again and has killed Tubbage that cowardly Alsatian. We
                    gave him to the village headman some months ago. There is no danger to us from the
                    leopard but I am terrified it might get Fanny, who is an excellent little watchdog and
                    dearly loved by all of us. Yesterday I sent a note to the Boma asking for a trap gun and
                    today the farm boys are building a trap with logs.

                    I had a mishap this morning in the garden. I blundered into a nest of hornets and
                    got two stings in the left arm above the elbow. Very painful at the time and the place is
                    still red and swollen.

                    Much love to you all,
                    Eleanor.

                    Mchewe Estate. 10th October 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    Well here we are at Mbeya, comfortably installed in the District Commissioner’s
                    house. It is one of two oldest houses in Mbeya and is a charming gabled place with tiled
                    roof. The garden is perfectly beautiful. I am enjoying the change very much. Nanny
                    Baxter is very entertaining. She has a vast fund of highly entertaining tales of the goings
                    on amongst the British Aristocracy, gleaned it seems over the nursery teacup in many a
                    Stately Home. Ann and Georgie are enjoying the company of other children.
                    People are very kind about inviting us out to tea and I gladly accept these
                    invitations but I have turned down invitations to dinner and one to a dance at the hotel. It
                    is no fun to go out at night without George. There are several grass widows at the pub
                    whose husbands are at the diggings. They have no inhibitions about parties.
                    I did have one night and day here with George, he got the chance of a lift and
                    knowing that we were staying here he thought the chance too good to miss. He was
                    also anxious to hear the Doctor’s verdict on Ann. I took Ann to hospital on my second
                    day here. Dr Eckhardt said there was nothing specifically wrong but that Ann is a highly
                    sensitive type with whom the tropics does not agree. He advised that Ann should
                    spend a year in a more temperate climate and that the sooner she goes the better. I felt
                    very discouraged to hear this and was most relieved when George turned up
                    unexpectedly that evening. He phoo-hood Dr Eckhardt’s recommendation and next
                    morning called in Dr Aitkin, the Government Doctor from Chunya and who happened to
                    be in Mbeya.

                    Unfortunately Dr Aitkin not only confirmed Dr Eckhardt’s opinion but said that he
                    thought Ann should stay out of the tropics until she had passed adolescence. I just don’t
                    know what to do about Ann. She is a darling child, very sensitive and gentle and a
                    lovely companion to me. Also she and young George are inseparable and I just cannot
                    picture one without the other. I know that you would be glad to have Ann but how could
                    we bear to part with her?

                    Your worried but affectionate,
                    Eleanor.

                    Tukuyu. 23rd October 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    As you see we have moved to Tukuyu and we are having a lovely time with
                    Lillian Eustace. She gave us such a warm welcome and has put herself out to give us
                    every comfort. She is a most capable housekeeper and I find her such a comfortable
                    companion because we have the same outlook in life. Both of us are strictly one man
                    women and that is rare here. She has a two year old son, Billy, who is enchanted with
                    our rolly polly Kate and there are other children on the station with whom Ann and
                    Georgie can play. Lillian engaged a temporary ayah for me so I am having a good rest.
                    All the children look well and Ann in particular seems to have benefited by the
                    change to a cooler climate. She has a good colour and looks so well that people all
                    exclaim when I tell them, that two doctors have advised us to send Ann out of the
                    country. Perhaps after all, this holiday in Tukuyu will set her up.

                    We had a trying journey from Mbeya to Tukuyu in the Post Lorry. The three
                    children and I were squeezed together on the front seat between the African driver on
                    one side and a vast German on the other. Both men smoked incessantly – the driver
                    cigarettes, and the German cheroots. The cab was clouded with a blue haze. Not only
                    that! I suddenly felt a smarting sensation on my right thigh. The driver’s cigarette had
                    burnt a hole right through that new checked linen frock you sent me last month.
                    I had Kate on my lap all the way but Ann and Georgie had to stand against the
                    windscreen all the way. The fat German offered to take Ann on his lap but she gave him
                    a very cold “No thank you.” Nor did I blame her. I would have greatly enjoyed the drive
                    under less crowded conditions. The scenery is gorgeous. One drives through very high
                    country crossing lovely clear streams and at one point through rain forest. As it was I
                    counted the miles and how thankful I was to see the end of the journey.
                    In the days when Tanganyika belonged to the Germans, Tukuyu was the
                    administrative centre for the whole of the Southern Highlands Province. The old German
                    Fort is still in use as Government offices and there are many fine trees which were
                    planted by the Germans. There is a large prosperous native population in this area.
                    They go in chiefly for coffee and for bananas which form the basis of their diet.
                    There are five British married couples here and Lillian and I go out to tea most
                    mornings. In the afternoon there is tennis or golf. The gardens here are beautiful because
                    there is rain or at least drizzle all the year round. There are even hedge roses bordering
                    some of the district roads. When one walks across the emerald green golf course or
                    through the Boma gardens, it is hard to realise that this gentle place is Tropical Africa.
                    ‘Such a green and pleasant land’, but I think I prefer our corner of Tanganyika.

                    Much love,
                    Eleanor.

                    Mchewe. 12th November 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    We had a lovely holiday but it is so nice to be home again, especially as Laza,
                    the local Nimrod, shot that leopard whilst we were away (with his muzzleloader gun). He
                    was justly proud of himself, and I gave him a tip so that he could buy some native beer
                    for a celebration. I have never seen one of theses parties but can hear the drums and
                    sounds of merrymaking, especially on moonlight nights.

                    Our house looks so fresh and uncluttered. Whilst I was away, the boys
                    whitewashed the house and my houseboy had washed all the curtains, bedspreads,
                    and loose covers and watered the garden. If only George were here it would be
                    heaven.

                    Ann looked so bonny at Tukuyu that I took her to the Government Doctor there
                    hoping that he would find her perfectly healthy, but alas he endorsed the finding of the
                    other two doctors so, when an opportunity offers, I think I shall have to send Ann down
                    to you for a long holiday from the Tropics. Mother-in-law has offered to fetch her next
                    year but England seems so far away. With you she will at least be on the same
                    continent.

                    I left the children for the first time ever, except for my stay in hospital when Kate
                    was born, to go on an outing to Lake Masoko in the Tukuyu district, with four friends.
                    Masoko is a beautiful, almost circular crater lake and very very deep. A detachment of
                    the King’s African Rifles are stationed there and occupy the old German barracks
                    overlooking the lake.

                    We drove to Masoko by car and spent the afternoon there as guests of two
                    British Army Officers. We had a good tea and the others went bathing in the lake but i
                    could not as I did not have a costume. The Lake was as beautiful as I had been lead to
                    imagine and our hosts were pleasant but I began to grow anxious as the afternoon
                    advanced and my friends showed no signs of leaving. I was in agonies when they
                    accepted an invitation to stay for a sundowner. We had this in the old German beer
                    garden overlooking the Lake. It was beautiful but what did I care. I had promised the
                    children that I would be home to give them their supper and put them to bed. When I
                    did at length return to Lillian’s house I found the situation as I had expected. Ann, with her
                    imagination had come to the conclusion that I never would return. She had sobbed
                    herself into a state of exhaustion. Kate was screaming in sympathy and George 2 was
                    very truculent. He wouldn’t even speak to me. Poor Lillian had had a trying time.
                    We did not return to Mbeya by the Mail Lorry. Bill and Lillian drove us across to
                    Mbeya in their new Ford V8 car. The children chattered happily in the back of the car
                    eating chocolate and bananas all the way. I might have known what would happen! Ann
                    was dreadfully and messily car sick.

                    I engaged the Mbeya Hotel taxi to drive us out to the farm the same afternoon
                    and I expect it will be a long time before we leave the farm again.

                    Lots and lots of love to all,
                    Eleanor.

                    Chunya 27th November 1936

                    Dearest Family,

                    You will be surprised to hear that we are all together now on the Lupa goldfields.
                    I have still not recovered from my own astonishment at being here. Until last Saturday
                    night I never dreamed of this move. At about ten o’clock I was crouched in the inglenook
                    blowing on the embers to make a fire so that I could heat some milk for Kate who is
                    cutting teeth and was very restless. Suddenly I heard a car outside. I knew it must be
                    George and rushed outside storm lamp in hand. Sure enough, there was George
                    standing by a strange car, and beaming all over his face. “Something for you my love,”
                    he said placing a little bundle in my hand. It was a knotted handkerchief and inside was a
                    fine gold nugget.

                    George had that fire going in no time, Kate was given the milk and half an aspirin
                    and settles down to sleep, whilst George and I sat around for an hour chatting over our
                    tea. He told me that he had borrowed the car from John Molteno and had come to fetch
                    me and the children to join him on the diggings for a while. It seems that John, who has a
                    camp at Itewe, a couple of miles outside the township of Chunya, the new
                    Administrative Centre of the diggings, was off to the Cape to visit his family for a few
                    months. John had asked George to run his claims in his absence and had given us the
                    loan of his camp and his car.

                    George had found the nugget on his own claim but he is not too elated because
                    he says that one good month on the diggings is often followed by several months of
                    dead loss. However, I feel hopeful, we have had such a run of bad luck that surely it is
                    time for the tide to change. George spent Sunday going over the farm with Thomas, the
                    headman, and giving him instructions about future work whilst I packed clothes and
                    kitchen equipment. I have brought our ex-kitchenboy Kesho Kutwa with me as cook and
                    also Janey, who heard that we were off to the Lupa and came to offer her services once
                    more as ayah. Janey’s ex-husband Abel is now cook to one of the more successful
                    diggers and I think she is hoping to team up with him again.

                    The trip over the Mbeya-Chunya pass was new to me and I enjoyed it very
                    much indeed. The road winds over the mountains along a very high escarpment and
                    one looks down on the vast Usangu flats stretching far away to the horizon. At the
                    highest point the road rises to about 7000 feet, and this was too much for Ann who was
                    leaning against the back of my seat. She was very thoroughly sick, all over my hair.
                    This camp of John Molteno’s is very comfortable. It consists of two wattle and
                    daub buildings built end to end in a clearing in the miombo bush. The main building
                    consists of a large living room, a store and an office, and the other of one large bedroom
                    and a small one separated by an area for bathing. Both buildings are thatched. There are
                    no doors, and there are no windows, but these are not necessary because one wall of
                    each building is built up only a couple of feet leaving a six foot space for light and air. As
                    this is the dry season the weather is pleasant. The air is fresh and dry but not nearly so
                    hot as I expected.

                    Water is a problem and must be carried long distances in kerosene tins.
                    vegetables and fresh butter are brought in a van from Iringa and Mbeya Districts about
                    once a fortnight. I have not yet visited Chunya but I believe it is as good a shopping
                    centre as Mbeya so we will be able to buy all the non perishable food stuffs we need.
                    What I do miss is the fresh milk. The children are accustomed to drinking at least a pint of
                    milk each per day but they do not care for the tinned variety.

                    Ann and young George love being here. The camp is surrounded by old
                    prospecting trenches and they spend hours each day searching for gold in the heaps of gravel. Sometimes they find quartz pitted with little spots of glitter and they bring them
                    to me in great excitement. Alas it is only Mica. We have two neighbours. The one is a
                    bearded Frenchman and the other an Australian. I have not yet met any women.
                    George looks very sunburnt and extremely fit and the children also look well.
                    George and I have decided that we will keep Ann with us until my Mother-in-law comes
                    out next year. George says that in spite of what the doctors have said, he thinks that the
                    shock to Ann of being separated from her family will do her more harm than good. She
                    and young George are inseparable and George thinks it would be best if both
                    George and Ann return to England with my Mother-in-law for a couple of years. I try not
                    to think at all about the breaking up of the family.

                    Much love to all,
                    Eleanor.

                     

                    #6262
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      From Tanganyika with Love

                      continued  ~ part 3

                      With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                      Mchewe Estate. 22nd March 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      I am feeling much better now that I am five months pregnant and have quite got
                      my appetite back. Once again I go out with “the Mchewe Hunt” which is what George
                      calls the procession made up of the donkey boy and donkey with Ann confidently riding
                      astride, me beside the donkey with Georgie behind riding the stick which he much
                      prefers to the donkey. The Alsatian pup, whom Ann for some unknown reason named
                      ‘Tubbage’, and the two cats bring up the rear though sometimes Tubbage rushes
                      ahead and nearly knocks me off my feet. He is not the loveable pet that Kelly was.
                      It is just as well that I have recovered my health because my mother-in-law has
                      decided to fly out from England to look after Ann and George when I am in hospital. I am
                      very grateful for there is no one lse to whom I can turn. Kath Hickson-Wood is seldom on
                      their farm because Hicky is working a guano claim and is making quite a good thing out of
                      selling bat guano to the coffee farmers at Mbosi. They camp out at the claim, a series of
                      caves in the hills across the valley and visit the farm only occasionally. Anne Molteno is
                      off to Cape Town to have her baby at her mothers home and there are no women in
                      Mbeya I know well. The few women are Government Officials wives and they come
                      and go. I make so few trips to the little town that there is no chance to get on really
                      friendly terms with them.

                      Janey, the ayah, is turning into a treasure. She washes and irons well and keeps
                      the children’s clothes cupboard beautifully neat. Ann and George however are still
                      reluctant to go for walks with her. They find her dull because, like all African ayahs, she
                      has no imagination and cannot play with them. She should however be able to help with
                      the baby. Ann is very excited about the new baby. She so loves all little things.
                      Yesterday she went into ecstasies over ten newly hatched chicks.

                      She wants a little sister and perhaps it would be a good thing. Georgie is so very
                      active and full of mischief that I feel another wild little boy might be more than I can
                      manage. Although Ann is older, it is Georgie who always thinks up the mischief. They
                      have just been having a fight. Georgie with the cooks umbrella versus Ann with her frilly
                      pink sunshade with the inevitable result that the sunshade now has four broken ribs.
                      Any way I never feel lonely now during the long hours George is busy on the
                      shamba. The children keep me on my toes and I have plenty of sewing to do for the
                      baby. George is very good about amusing the children before their bedtime and on
                      Sundays. In the afternoons when it is not wet I take Ann and Georgie for a walk down
                      the hill. George meets us at the bottom and helps me on the homeward journey. He
                      grabs one child in each hand by the slack of their dungarees and they do a sort of giant
                      stride up the hill, half walking half riding.

                      Very much love,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 14th June 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      A great flap here. We had a letter yesterday to say that mother-in-law will be
                      arriving in four days time! George is very amused at my frantic efforts at spring cleaning
                      but he has told me before that she is very house proud so I feel I must make the best
                      of what we have.

                      George is very busy building a store for the coffee which will soon be ripening.
                      This time he is doing the bricklaying himself. It is quite a big building on the far end of the
                      farm and close to the river. He is also making trays of chicken wire nailed to wooden
                      frames with cheap calico stretched over the wire.

                      Mother will have to sleep in the verandah room which leads off the bedroom
                      which we share with the children. George will have to sleep in the outside spare room as
                      there is no door between the bedroom and the verandah room. I am sewing frantically
                      to make rose coloured curtains and bedspread out of material mother-in-law sent for
                      Christmas and will have to make a curtain for the doorway. The kitchen badly needs
                      whitewashing but George says he cannot spare the labour so I hope mother won’t look.
                      To complicate matters, George has been invited to lunch with the Governor on the day
                      of Mother’s arrival. After lunch they are to visit the newly stocked trout streams in the
                      Mporotos. I hope he gets back to Mbeya in good time to meet mother’s plane.
                      Ann has been off colour for a week. She looks very pale and her pretty fair hair,
                      normally so shiny, is dull and lifeless. It is such a pity that mother should see her like this
                      because first impressions do count so much and I am looking to the children to attract
                      attention from me. I am the size of a circus tent and hardly a dream daughter-in-law.
                      Georgie, thank goodness, is blooming but he has suddenly developed a disgusting
                      habit of spitting on the floor in the manner of the natives. I feel he might say “Gran, look
                      how far I can spit and give an enthusiastic demonstration.

                      Just hold thumbs that all goes well.

                      your loving but anxious,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 28th June 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      Mother-in-law duly arrived in the District Commissioner’s car. George did not dare
                      to use the A.C. as she is being very temperamental just now. They also brought the
                      mail bag which contained a parcel of lovely baby clothes from you. Thank you very
                      much. Mother-in-law is very put out because the large parcel she posted by surface
                      mail has not yet arrived.

                      Mother arrived looking very smart in an ankle length afternoon frock of golden
                      brown crepe and smart hat, and wearing some very good rings. She is a very
                      handsome woman with the very fair complexion that goes with red hair. The hair, once
                      Titan, must now be grey but it has been very successfully tinted and set. I of course,
                      was shapeless in a cotton maternity frock and no credit to you. However, so far, motherin-
                      law has been uncritical and friendly and charmed with the children who have taken to
                      her. Mother does not think that the children resemble me in any way. Ann resembles her
                      family the Purdys and Georgie is a Morley, her mother’s family. She says they had the
                      same dark eyes and rather full mouths. I say feebly, “But Georgie has my colouring”, but
                      mother won’t hear of it. So now you know! Ann is a Purdy and Georgie a Morley.
                      Perhaps number three will be a Leslie.

                      What a scramble I had getting ready for mother. Her little room really looks pretty
                      and fresh, but the locally woven grass mats arrived only minutes before mother did. I
                      also frantically overhauled our clothes and it a good thing that I did so because mother
                      has been going through all the cupboards looking for mending. Mother is kept so busy
                      in her own home that I think she finds time hangs on her hands here. She is very good at
                      entertaining the children and has even tried her hand at picking coffee a couple of times.
                      Mother cannot get used to the native boy servants but likes Janey, so Janey keeps her
                      room in order. Mother prefers to wash and iron her own clothes.

                      I almost lost our cook through mother’s surplus energy! Abel our previous cook
                      took a new wife last month and, as the new wife, and Janey the old, were daggers
                      drawn, Abel moved off to a job on the Lupa leaving Janey and her daughter here.
                      The new cook is capable, but he is a fearsome looking individual called Alfani. He has a
                      thick fuzz of hair which he wears long, sometimes hidden by a dingy turban, and he
                      wears big brass earrings. I think he must be part Somali because he has a hawk nose
                      and a real Brigand look. His kitchen is never really clean but he is an excellent cook and
                      as cooks are hard to come by here I just keep away from the kitchen. Not so mother!
                      A few days after her arrival she suggested kindly that I should lie down after lunch
                      so I rested with the children whilst mother, unknown to me, went out to the kitchen and
                      not only scrubbed the table and shelves but took the old iron stove to pieces and
                      cleaned that. Unfortunately in her zeal she poked a hole through the stove pipe.
                      Had I known of these activities I would have foreseen the cook’s reaction when
                      he returned that evening to cook the supper. he was furious and wished to leave on the
                      spot and demanded his wages forthwith. The old Memsahib had insulted him by
                      scrubbing his already spotless kitchen and had broken his stove and made it impossible
                      for him to cook. This tirade was accompanied by such waving of hands and rolling of
                      eyes that I longed to sack him on the spot. However I dared not as I might not get
                      another cook for weeks. So I smoothed him down and he patched up the stove pipe
                      with a bit of tin and some wire and produced a good meal. I am wondering what
                      transformations will be worked when I am in hospital.

                      Our food is really good but mother just pecks at it. No wonder really, because
                      she has had some shocks. One day she found the kitchen boy diligently scrubbing the box lavatory seat with a scrubbing brush which he dipped into one of my best large
                      saucepans! No one can foresee what these boys will do. In these remote areas house
                      servants are usually recruited from the ranks of the very primitive farm labourers, who first
                      come to the farm as naked savages, and their notions of hygiene simply don’t exist.
                      One day I said to mother in George’s presence “When we were newly married,
                      mother, George used to brag about your cooking and say that you would run a home
                      like this yourself with perhaps one ‘toto’. Mother replied tartly, “That was very bad of
                      George and not true. If my husband had brought me out here I would not have stayed a
                      month. I think you manage very well.” Which reply made me warm to mother a lot.
                      To complicate things we have a new pup, a little white bull terrier bitch whom
                      George has named Fanny. She is tiny and not yet house trained but seems a plucky
                      and attractive little animal though there is no denying that she does look like a piglet.

                      Very much love to all,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 3rd August 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      Here I am in hospital, comfortably in bed with our new daughter in her basket
                      beside me. She is a lovely little thing, very plump and cuddly and pink and white and
                      her head is covered with tiny curls the colour of Golden Syrup. We meant to call her
                      Margery Kate, after our Marj and my mother-in-law whose name is Catherine.
                      I am enjoying the rest, knowing that George and mother will be coping
                      successfully on the farm. My room is full of flowers, particularly with the roses and
                      carnations which grow so well here. Kate was not due until August 5th but the doctor
                      wanted me to come in good time in view of my tiresome early pregnancy.

                      For weeks beforehand George had tinkered with the A.C. and we started for
                      Mbeya gaily enough on the twenty ninth, however, after going like a dream for a couple
                      of miles, she simply collapsed from exhaustion at the foot of a hill and all the efforts of
                      the farm boys who had been sent ahead for such an emergency failed to start her. So
                      George sent back to the farm for the machila and I sat in the shade of a tree, wondering
                      what would happen if I had the baby there and then, whilst George went on tinkering
                      with the car. Suddenly she sprang into life and we roared up that hill and all the way into
                      Mbeya. The doctor welcomed us pleasantly and we had tea with his family before I
                      settled into my room. Later he examined me and said that it was unlikely that the baby
                      would be born for several days. The new and efficient German nurse said, “Thank
                      goodness for that.” There was a man in hospital dying from a stomach cancer and she
                      had not had a decent nights sleep for three nights.

                      Kate however had other plans. I woke in the early morning with labour pains but
                      anxious not to disturb the nurse, I lay and read or tried to read a book, hoping that I
                      would not have to call the nurse until daybreak. However at four a.m., I went out into the
                      wind which was howling along the open verandah and knocked on the nurse’s door. She
                      got up and very crossly informed me that I was imagining things and should get back to
                      bed at once. She said “It cannot be so. The Doctor has said it.” I said “Of course it is,”
                      and then and there the water broke and clinched my argument. She then went into a flat
                      spin. “But the bed is not ready and my instruments are not ready,” and she flew around
                      to rectify this and also sent an African orderly to call the doctor. I paced the floor saying
                      warningly “Hurry up with that bed. I am going to have the baby now!” She shrieked
                      “Take off your dressing gown.” But I was passed caring. I flung myself on the bed and
                      there was Kate. The nurse had done all that was necessary by the time the doctor
                      arrived.

                      A funny thing was, that whilst Kate was being born on the bed, a black cat had
                      kittens under it! The doctor was furious with the nurse but the poor thing must have crept
                      in out of the cold wind when I went to call the nurse. A happy omen I feel for the baby’s
                      future. George had no anxiety this time. He stayed at the hospital with me until ten
                      o’clock when he went down to the hotel to sleep and he received the news in a note
                      from me with his early morning tea. He went to the farm next morning but will return on
                      the sixth to fetch me home.

                      I do feel so happy. A very special husband and three lovely children. What
                      more could anyone possibly want.

                      Lots and lots of love,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 20th August 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      Well here we are back at home and all is very well. The new baby is very placid
                      and so pretty. Mother is delighted with her and Ann loved her at sight but Georgie is not
                      so sure. At first he said, “Your baby is no good. Chuck her in the kalonga.” The kalonga
                      being the ravine beside the house , where, I regret to say, much of the kitchen refuse is
                      dumped. he is very jealous when I carry Kate around or feed her but is ready to admire
                      her when she is lying alone in her basket.

                      George walked all the way from the farm to fetch us home. He hired a car and
                      native driver from the hotel, but drove us home himself going with such care over ruts
                      and bumps. We had a great welcome from mother who had had the whole house
                      spring cleaned. However George loyally says it looks just as nice when I am in charge.
                      Mother obviously, had had more than enough of the back of beyond and
                      decided to stay on only one week after my return home. She had gone into the kitchen
                      one day just in time to see the houseboy scooping the custard he had spilt on the table
                      back into the jug with the side of his hand. No doubt it would have been served up
                      without a word. On another occasion she had walked in on the cook’s daily ablutions. He
                      was standing in a small bowl of water in the centre of the kitchen, absolutely naked,
                      enjoying a slipper bath. She left last Wednesday and gave us a big laugh before she
                      left. She never got over her horror of eating food prepared by our cook and used to
                      push it around her plate. Well, when the time came for mother to leave for the plane, she
                      put on the very smart frock in which she had arrived, and then came into the sitting room
                      exclaiming in dismay “Just look what has happened, I must have lost a stone!’ We
                      looked, and sure enough, the dress which had been ankle deep before, now touched
                      the floor. “Good show mother.” said George unfeelingly. “You ought to be jolly grateful,
                      you needed to lose weight and it would have cost you the earth at a beauty parlour to
                      get that sylph-like figure.”

                      When mother left she took, in a perforated matchbox, one of the frilly mantis that
                      live on our roses. She means to keep it in a goldfish bowl in her dining room at home.
                      Georgie and Ann filled another matchbox with dead flies for food for the mantis on the
                      journey.

                      Now that mother has left, Georgie and Ann attach themselves to me and firmly
                      refuse to have anything to do with the ayah,Janey. She in any case now wishes to have
                      a rest. Mother tipped her well and gave her several cotton frocks so I suspect she wants
                      to go back to her hometown in Northern Rhodesia to show off a bit.
                      Georgie has just sidled up with a very roguish look. He asked “You like your
                      baby?” I said “Yes indeed I do.” He said “I’ll prick your baby with a velly big thorn.”

                      Who would be a mother!
                      Eleanor

                      Mchewe Estate. 20th September 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      I have been rather in the wars with toothache and as there is still no dentist at
                      Mbeya to do the fillings, I had to have four molars extracted at the hospital. George
                      says it is fascinating to watch me at mealtimes these days because there is such a gleam
                      of satisfaction in my eye when I do manage to get two teeth to meet on a mouthful.
                      About those scissors Marj sent Ann. It was not such a good idea. First she cut off tufts of
                      George’s hair so that he now looks like a bad case of ringworm and then she cut a scalp
                      lock, a whole fist full of her own shining hair, which George so loves. George scolded
                      Ann and she burst into floods of tears. Such a thing as a scolding from her darling daddy
                      had never happened before. George immediately made a long drooping moustache
                      out of the shorn lock and soon had her smiling again. George is always very gentle with
                      Ann. One has to be , because she is frightfully sensitive to criticism.

                      I am kept pretty busy these days, Janey has left and my houseboy has been ill
                      with pneumonia. I now have to wash all the children’s things and my own, (the cook does
                      George’s clothes) and look after the three children. Believe me, I can hardly keep awake
                      for Kate’s ten o’clock feed.

                      I do hope I shall get some new servants next month because I also got George
                      to give notice to the cook. I intercepted him last week as he was storming down the hill
                      with my large kitchen knife in his hand. “Where are you going with my knife?” I asked.
                      “I’m going to kill a man!” said Alfani, rolling his eyes and looking extremely ferocious. “He
                      has taken my wife.” “Not with my knife”, said I reaching for it. So off Alfani went, bent on
                      vengeance and I returned the knife to the kitchen. Dinner was served and I made no
                      enquiries but I feel that I need someone more restful in the kitchen than our brigand
                      Alfani.

                      George has been working on the car and has now fitted yet another radiator. This
                      is a lorry one and much too tall to be covered by the A.C.’s elegant bonnet which is
                      secured by an old strap. The poor old A.C. now looks like an ancient shoe with a turned
                      up toe. It only needs me in it with the children to make a fine illustration to the old rhyme!
                      Ann and Georgie are going through a climbing phase. They practically live in
                      trees. I rushed out this morning to investigate loud screams and found Georgie hanging
                      from a fork in a tree by one ankle, whilst Ann stood below on tiptoe with hands stretched
                      upwards to support his head.

                      Do I sound as though I have straws in my hair? I have.
                      Lots of love,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 11th October 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      Thank goodness! I have a new ayah name Mary. I had heard that there was a
                      good ayah out of work at Tukuyu 60 miles away so sent a messenger to fetch her. She
                      arrived after dark wearing a bright dress and a cheerful smile and looked very suitable by
                      the light of a storm lamp. I was horrified next morning to see her in daylight. She was
                      dressed all in black and had a rather sinister look. She reminds me rather of your old maid
                      Candace who overheard me laughing a few days before Ann was born and croaked
                      “Yes , Miss Eleanor, today you laugh but next week you might be dead.” Remember
                      how livid you were, dad?

                      I think Mary has the same grim philosophy. Ann took one look at her and said,
                      “What a horrible old lady, mummy.” Georgie just said “Go away”, both in English and Ki-
                      Swahili. Anyway Mary’s references are good so I shall keep her on to help with Kate
                      who is thriving and bonny and placid.

                      Thank you for the offer of toys for Christmas but, if you don’t mind, I’d rather have
                      some clothing for the children. Ann is quite contented with her dolls Barbara and Yvonne.
                      Barbara’s once beautiful face is now pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle having come
                      into contact with Georgie’s ever busy hammer. However Ann says she will love her for
                      ever and she doesn’t want another doll. Yvonne’s hay day is over too. She
                      disappeared for weeks and we think Fanny, the pup, was the culprit. Ann discovered
                      Yvonne one morning in some long wet weeds. Poor Yvonne is now a ghost of her
                      former self. All the sophisticated make up was washed off her papier-mâché face and
                      her hair is decidedly bedraggled, but Ann was radiant as she tucked her back into bed
                      and Yvonne is as precious to Ann as she ever was.

                      Georgie simply does not care for toys. His paint box, hammer and the trenching
                      hoe George gave him for his second birthday are all he wants or needs. Both children
                      love books but I sometimes wonder whether they stimulate Ann’s imagination too much.
                      The characters all become friends of hers and she makes up stories about them to tell
                      Georgie. She adores that illustrated children’s Bible Mummy sent her but you would be
                      astonished at the yarns she spins about “me and my friend Jesus.” She also will call
                      Moses “Old Noses”, and looking at a picture of Jacob’s dream, with the shining angels
                      on the ladder between heaven and earth, she said “Georgie, if you see an angel, don’t
                      touch it, it’s hot.”

                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 17th October 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      I take back the disparaging things I said about my new Ayah, because she has
                      proved her worth in an unexpected way. On Wednesday morning I settled Kate in he
                      cot after her ten o’clock feed and sat sewing at the dining room table with Ann and
                      Georgie opposite me, both absorbed in painting pictures in identical seed catalogues.
                      Suddenly there was a terrific bang on the back door, followed by an even heavier blow.
                      The door was just behind me and I got up and opened it. There, almost filling the door
                      frame, stood a huge native with staring eyes and his teeth showing in a mad grimace. In
                      his hand he held a rolled umbrella by the ferrule, the shaft I noticed was unusually long
                      and thick and the handle was a big round knob.

                      I was terrified as you can imagine, especially as, through the gap under the
                      native’s raised arm, I could see the new cook and the kitchen boy running away down to
                      the shamba! I hastily tried to shut and lock the door but the man just brushed me aside.
                      For a moment he stood over me with the umbrella raised as though to strike. Rather
                      fortunately, I now think, I was too petrified to say a word. The children never moved but
                      Tubbage, the Alsatian, got up and jumped out of the window!

                      Then the native turned away and still with the same fixed stare and grimace,
                      began to attack the furniture with his umbrella. Tables and chairs were overturned and
                      books and ornaments scattered on the floor. When the madman had his back turned and
                      was busily bashing the couch, I slipped round the dining room table, took Ann and
                      Georgie by the hand and fled through the front door to the garage where I hid the
                      children in the car. All this took several minutes because naturally the children were
                      terrified. I was worried to death about the baby left alone in the bedroom and as soon
                      as I had Ann and Georgie settled I ran back to the house.

                      I reached the now open front door just as Kianda the houseboy opened the back
                      door of the lounge. He had been away at the river washing clothes but, on hearing of the
                      madman from the kitchen boy he had armed himself with a stout stick and very pluckily,
                      because he is not a robust boy, had returned to the house to eject the intruder. He
                      rushed to attack immediately and I heard a terrific exchange of blows behind me as I
                      opened our bedroom door. You can imagine what my feelings were when I was
                      confronted by an empty cot! Just then there was an uproar inside as all the farm
                      labourers armed with hoes and pangas and sticks, streamed into the living room from the
                      shamba whence they had been summoned by the cook. In no time at all the huge
                      native was hustled out of the house, flung down the front steps, and securely tied up
                      with strips of cloth.

                      In the lull that followed I heard a frightened voice calling from the bathroom.
                      ”Memsahib is that you? The child is here with me.” I hastily opened the bathroom door
                      to find Mary couched in a corner by the bath, shielding Kate with her body. Mary had
                      seen the big native enter the house and her first thought had been for her charge. I
                      thanked her and promised her a reward for her loyalty, and quickly returned to the garage
                      to reassure Ann and Georgie. I met George who looked white and exhausted as well
                      he might having run up hill all the way from the coffee store. The kitchen boy had led him
                      to expect the worst and he was most relieved to find us all unhurt if a bit shaken.
                      We returned to the house by the back way whilst George went to the front and
                      ordered our labourers to take their prisoner and lock him up in the store. George then
                      discussed the whole affair with his Headman and all the labourers after which he reported
                      to me. “The boys say that the bastard is an ex-Askari from Nyasaland. He is not mad as
                      you thought but he smokes bhang and has these attacks. I suppose I should take him to
                      Mbeya and have him up in court. But if I do that you’ll have to give evidence and that will be a nuisance as the car won’t go and there is also the baby to consider.”

                      Eventually we decided to leave the man to sleep off the effects of the Bhang
                      until evening when he would be tried before an impromptu court consisting of George,
                      the local Jumbe(Headman) and village Elders, and our own farm boys and any other
                      interested spectators. It was not long before I knew the verdict because I heard the
                      sound of lashes. I was not sorry at all because I felt the man deserved his punishment
                      and so did all the Africans. They love children and despise anyone who harms or
                      frightens them. With great enthusiasm they frog-marched him off our land, and I sincerely
                      hope that that is the last we see or him. Ann and Georgie don’t seem to brood over this
                      affair at all. The man was naughty and he was spanked, a quite reasonable state of
                      affairs. This morning they hid away in the small thatched chicken house. This is a little brick
                      building about four feet square which Ann covets as a dolls house. They came back
                      covered in stick fleas which I had to remove with paraffin. My hens are laying well but
                      they all have the ‘gapes’! I wouldn’t run a chicken farm for anything, hens are such fussy,
                      squawking things.

                      Now don’t go worrying about my experience with the native. Such things
                      happen only once in a lifetime. We are all very well and happy, and life, apart from the
                      children’s pranks is very tranquil.

                      Lots and lots of love,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 25th October 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      The hot winds have dried up the shamba alarmingly and we hope every day for
                      rain. The prices for coffee, on the London market, continue to be low and the local
                      planters are very depressed. Coffee grows well enough here but we are over 400
                      miles from the railway and transport to the railhead by lorry is very expensive. Then, as
                      there is no East African Marketing Board, the coffee must be shipped to England for
                      sale. Unless the coffee fetches at least 90 pounds a ton it simply doesn’t pay to grow it.
                      When we started planting in 1931 coffee was fetching as much as 115 pounds a ton but
                      prices this year were between 45 and 55 pounds. We have practically exhausted our
                      capitol and so have all our neighbours. The Hickson -Woods have been keeping their
                      pot boiling by selling bat guano to the coffee farmers at Mbosi but now everyone is
                      broke and there is not a market for fertilisers. They are offering their farm for sale at a very
                      low price.

                      Major Jones has got a job working on the district roads and Max Coster talks of
                      returning to his work as a geologist. George says he will have to go gold digging on the
                      Lupa unless there is a big improvement in the market. Luckily we can live quite cheaply
                      here. We have a good vegetable garden, milk is cheap and we have plenty of fruit.
                      There are mulberries, pawpaws, grenadillas, peaches, and wine berries. The wine
                      berries are very pretty but insipid though Ann and Georgie love them. Each morning,
                      before breakfast, the old garden boy brings berries for Ann and Georgie. With a thorn
                      the old man pins a large leaf from a wild fig tree into a cone which he fills with scarlet wine
                      berries. There is always a cone for each child and they wait eagerly outside for the daily
                      ceremony of presentation.

                      The rats are being a nuisance again. Both our cats, Skinny Winnie and Blackboy
                      disappeared a few weeks ago. We think they made a meal for a leopard. I wrote last
                      week to our grocer at Mbalizi asking him whether he could let us have a couple of kittens
                      as I have often seen cats in his store. The messenger returned with a nailed down box.
                      The kitchen boy was called to prize up the lid and the children stood by in eager
                      anticipation. Out jumped two snarling and spitting creatures. One rushed into the kalonga
                      and the other into the house and before they were captured they had drawn blood from
                      several boys. I told the boys to replace the cats in the box as I intended to return them
                      forthwith. They had the colouring, stripes and dispositions of wild cats and I certainly
                      didn’t want them as pets, but before the boys could replace the lid the cats escaped
                      once more into the undergrowth in the kalonga. George fetched his shotgun and said he
                      would shoot the cats on sight or they would kill our chickens. This was more easily said
                      than done because the cats could not be found. However during the night the cats
                      climbed up into the loft af the house and we could hear them moving around on the reed
                      ceiling.

                      I said to George,”Oh leave the poor things. At least they might frighten the rats
                      away.” That afternoon as we were having tea a thin stream of liquid filtered through the
                      ceiling on George’s head. Oh dear!!! That of course was the end. Some raw meat was
                      put on the lawn for bait and yesterday George shot both cats.

                      I regret to end with the sad story of Mary, heroine in my last letter and outcast in
                      this. She came to work quite drunk two days running and I simply had to get rid of her. I
                      have heard since from Kath Wood that Mary lost her last job at Tukuyu for the same
                      reason. She was ayah to twin girls and one day set their pram on fire.

                      So once again my hands are more than full with three lively children. I did say
                      didn’t I, when Ann was born that I wanted six children?

                      Very much love from us all, Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 8th November 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      To set your minds at rest I must tell you that the native who so frightened me and
                      the children is now in jail for attacking a Greek at Mbalizi. I hear he is to be sent back to
                      Rhodesia when he has finished his sentence.

                      Yesterday we had one of our rare trips to Mbeya. George managed to get a couple of
                      second hand tyres for the old car and had again got her to work so we are celebrating our
                      wedding anniversary by going on an outing. I wore the green and fawn striped silk dress
                      mother bought me and the hat and shoes you sent for my birthday and felt like a million
                      dollars, for a change. The children all wore new clothes too and I felt very proud of them.
                      Ann is still very fair and with her refined little features and straight silky hair she
                      looks like Alice in Wonderland. Georgie is dark and sturdy and looks best in khaki shirt
                      and shorts and sun helmet. Kate is a pink and gold baby and looks good enough to eat.
                      We went straight to the hotel at Mbeya and had the usual warm welcome from
                      Ken and Aunty May Menzies. Aunty May wears her hair cut short like a mans and
                      usually wears shirt and tie and riding breeches and boots. She always looks ready to go
                      on safari at a moments notice as indeed she is. She is often called out to a case of illness
                      at some remote spot.

                      There were lots of people at the hotel from farms in the district and from the
                      diggings. I met women I had not seen for four years. One, a Mrs Masters from Tukuyu,
                      said in the lounge, “My God! Last time I saw you , you were just a girl and here you are
                      now with two children.” To which I replied with pride, “There is another one in a pram on
                      the verandah if you care to look!” Great hilarity in the lounge. The people from the
                      diggings seem to have plenty of money to throw around. There was a big party on the
                      go in the bar.

                      One of our shamba boys died last Friday and all his fellow workers and our
                      house boys had the day off to attend the funeral. From what I can gather the local
                      funerals are quite cheery affairs. The corpse is dressed in his best clothes and laid
                      outside his hut and all who are interested may view the body and pay their respects.
                      The heir then calls upon anyone who had a grudge against the dead man to say his say
                      and thereafter hold his tongue forever. Then all the friends pay tribute to the dead man
                      after which he is buried to the accompaniment of what sounds from a distance, very
                      cheerful keening.

                      Most of our workmen are pagans though there is a Lutheran Mission nearby and
                      a big Roman Catholic Mission in the area too. My present cook, however, claims to be
                      a Christian. He certainly went to a mission school and can read and write and also sing
                      hymns in Ki-Swahili. When I first engaged him I used to find a large open Bible
                      prominently displayed on the kitchen table. The cook is middle aged and arrived here
                      with a sensible matronly wife. To my surprise one day he brought along a young girl,
                      very plump and giggly and announced proudly that she was his new wife, I said,”But I
                      thought you were a Christian Jeremiah? Christians don’t have two wives.” To which he
                      replied, “Oh Memsahib, God won’t mind. He knows an African needs two wives – one
                      to go with him when he goes away to work and one to stay behind at home to cultivate
                      the shamba.

                      Needles to say, it is the old wife who has gone to till the family plot.

                      With love to all,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 21st November 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      The drought has broken with a bang. We had a heavy storm in the hills behind
                      the house. Hail fell thick and fast. So nice for all the tiny new berries on the coffee! The
                      kids loved the excitement and three times Ann and Georgie ran out for a shower under
                      the eaves and had to be changed. After the third time I was fed up and made them both
                      lie on their beds whilst George and I had lunch in peace. I told Ann to keep the
                      casement shut as otherwise the rain would drive in on her bed. Half way through lunch I
                      heard delighted squeals from Georgie and went into the bedroom to investigate. Ann
                      was standing on the outer sill in the rain but had shut the window as ordered. “Well
                      Mummy , you didn’t say I mustn’t stand on the window sill, and I did shut the window.”
                      George is working so hard on the farm. I have a horrible feeling however that it is
                      what the Africans call ‘Kazi buri’ (waste of effort) as there seems no chance of the price of
                      coffee improving as long as this world depression continues. The worry is that our capitol
                      is nearly exhausted. Food is becoming difficult now that our neighbours have left. I used
                      to buy delicious butter from Kath Hickson-Wood and an African butcher used to kill a
                      beast once a week. Now that we are his only European customers he very rarely kills
                      anything larger than a goat, and though we do eat goat, believe me it is not from choice.
                      We have of course got plenty to eat, but our diet is very monotonous. I was
                      delighted when George shot a large bushbuck last week. What we could not use I cut
                      into strips and the salted strips are now hanging in the open garage to dry.

                      With love to all,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 6th December 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      We have had a lot of rain and the countryside is lovely and green. Last week
                      George went to Mbeya taking Ann with him. This was a big adventure for Ann because
                      never before had she been anywhere without me. She was in a most blissful state as
                      she drove off in the old car clutching a little basket containing sandwiches and half a bottle
                      of milk. She looked so pretty in a new blue frock and with her tiny plaits tied with
                      matching blue ribbons. When Ann is animated she looks charming because her normally
                      pale cheeks become rosy and she shows her pretty dimples.

                      As I am still without an ayah I rather looked forward to a quiet morning with only
                      Georgie and Margery Kate to care for, but Georgie found it dull without Ann and wanted
                      to be entertained and even the normally placid baby was peevish. Then in mid morning
                      the rain came down in torrents, the result of a cloudburst in the hills directly behind our
                      house. The ravine next to our house was a terrifying sight. It appeared to be a great
                      muddy, roaring waterfall reaching from the very top of the hill to a point about 30 yards
                      behind our house and then the stream rushed on down the gorge in an angry brown
                      flood. The roar of the water was so great that we had to yell at one another to be heard.
                      By lunch time the rain had stopped and I anxiously awaited the return of Ann and
                      George. They returned on foot, drenched and hungry at about 2.30pm . George had
                      had to abandon the car on the main road as the Mchewe River had overflowed and
                      turned the road into a muddy lake. The lower part of the shamba had also been flooded
                      and the water receded leaving branches and driftwood amongst the coffee. This was my
                      first experience of a real tropical storm. I am afraid that after the battering the coffee has
                      had there is little hope of a decent crop next year.

                      Anyway Christmas is coming so we don’t dwell on these mishaps. The children
                      have already chosen their tree from amongst the young cypresses in the vegetable
                      garden. We all send our love and hope that you too will have a Happy Christmas.

                      Eleanor

                      Mchewe Estate. 22nd December 1935

                      Dearest Family,

                      I’ve been in the wars with my staff. The cook has been away ill for ten days but is
                      back today though shaky and full of self pity. The houseboy, who really has been a brick
                      during the cooks absence has now taken to his bed and I feel like taking to Mine! The
                      children however have the Christmas spirit and are making weird and wonderful paper
                      decorations. George’s contribution was to have the house whitewashed throughout and
                      it looks beautifully fresh.

                      My best bit of news is that my old ayah Janey has been to see me and would
                      like to start working here again on Jan 1st. We are all very well. We meant to give
                      ourselves an outing to Mbeya as a Christmas treat but here there is an outbreak of
                      enteric fever there so will now not go. We have had two visitors from the Diggings this
                      week. The children see so few strangers that they were fascinated and hung around
                      staring. Ann sat down on the arm of the couch beside one and studied his profile.
                      Suddenly she announced in her clear voice, “Mummy do you know, this man has got
                      wax in his ears!” Very awkward pause in the conversation. By the way when I was
                      cleaning out little Kate’s ears with a swab of cotton wool a few days ago, Ann asked
                      “Mummy, do bees have wax in their ears? Well, where do you get beeswax from
                      then?”

                      I meant to keep your Christmas parcel unopened until Christmas Eve but could
                      not resist peeping today. What lovely things! Ann so loves pretties and will be
                      delighted with her frocks. My dress is just right and I love Georgie’s manly little flannel
                      shorts and blue shirt. We have bought them each a watering can. I suppose I shall
                      regret this later. One of your most welcome gifts is the album of nursery rhyme records. I
                      am so fed up with those that we have. Both children love singing. I put a record on the
                      gramophone geared to slow and off they go . Georgie sings more slowly than Ann but
                      much more tunefully. Ann sings in a flat monotone but Georgie with great expression.
                      You ought to hear him render ‘Sing a song of sixpence’. He cannot pronounce an R or
                      an S. Mother has sent a large home made Christmas pudding and a fine Christmas
                      cake and George will shoot some partridges for Christmas dinner.
                      Think of us as I shall certainly think of you.

                      Your very loving,
                      Eleanor.

                      Mchewe Estate. 2nd January 1936

                      Dearest Family,

                      Christmas was fun! The tree looked very gay with its load of tinsel, candles and
                      red crackers and the coloured balloons you sent. All the children got plenty of toys
                      thanks to Grandparents and Aunts. George made Ann a large doll’s bed and I made
                      some elegant bedding, Barbara, the big doll is now permanently bed ridden. Her poor
                      shattered head has come all unstuck and though I have pieced it together again it is a sad
                      sight. If you have not yet chosen a present for her birthday next month would you
                      please get a new head from the Handy House. I enclose measurements. Ann does so
                      love the doll. She always calls her, “My little girl”, and she keeps the doll’s bed beside
                      her own and never fails to kiss her goodnight.

                      We had no guests for Christmas this year but we were quite festive. Ann
                      decorated the dinner table with small pink roses and forget-me-knots and tinsel and the
                      crackers from the tree. It was a wet day but we played the new records and both
                      George and I worked hard to make it a really happy day for the children. The children
                      were hugely delighted when George made himself a revolting set of false teeth out of
                      plasticine and a moustache and beard of paper straw from a chocolate box. “Oh Daddy
                      you look exactly like Father Christmas!” cried an enthralled Ann. Before bedtime we lit
                      all the candles on the tree and sang ‘Away in a Manger’, and then we opened the box of
                      starlights you sent and Ann and Georgie had their first experience of fireworks.
                      After the children went to bed things deteriorated. First George went for his bath
                      and found and killed a large black snake in the bathroom. It must have been in the
                      bathroom when I bathed the children earlier in the evening. Then I developed bad
                      toothache which kept me awake all night and was agonising next day. Unfortunately the
                      bridge between the farm and Mbeya had been washed away and the water was too
                      deep for the car to ford until the 30th when at last I was able to take my poor swollen
                      face to Mbeya. There is now a young German woman dentist working at the hospital.
                      She pulled out the offending molar which had a large abscess attached to it.
                      Whilst the dentist attended to me, Ann and Georgie played happily with the
                      doctor’s children. I wish they could play more often with other children. Dr Eckhardt was
                      very pleased with Margery Kate who at seven months weighs 17 lbs and has lovely
                      rosy cheeks. He admired Ann and told her that she looked just like a German girl. “No I
                      don’t”, cried Ann indignantly, “I’m English!”

                      We were caught in a rain storm going home and as the old car still has no
                      windscreen or side curtains we all got soaked except for the baby who was snugly
                      wrapped in my raincoat. The kids thought it great fun. Ann is growing up fast now. She
                      likes to ‘help mummy’. She is a perfectionist at four years old which is rather trying. She
                      gets so discouraged when things do not turn out as well as she means them to. Sewing
                      is constantly being unpicked and paintings torn up. She is a very sensitive child.
                      Georgie is quite different. He is a man of action, but not silent. He talks incessantly
                      but lisps and stumbles over some words. At one time Ann and Georgie often
                      conversed in Ki-Swahili but they now scorn to do so. If either forgets and uses a Swahili
                      word, the other points a scornful finger and shouts “You black toto”.

                      With love to all,
                      Eleanor.

                      #6261
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        From Tanganyika with Love

                        continued

                        With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                        Mchewe Estate. 11th July 1931.

                        Dearest Family,

                        You say that you would like to know more about our neighbours. Well there is
                        not much to tell. Kath Wood is very good about coming over to see me. I admire her
                        very much because she is so capable as well as being attractive. She speaks very
                        fluent Ki-Swahili and I envy her the way she can carry on a long conversation with the
                        natives. I am very slow in learning the language possibly because Lamek and the
                        houseboy both speak basic English.

                        I have very little to do with the Africans apart from the house servants, but I do
                        run a sort of clinic for the wives and children of our employees. The children suffer chiefly
                        from sore eyes and worms, and the older ones often have bad ulcers on their legs. All
                        farmers keep a stock of drugs and bandages.

                        George also does a bit of surgery and last month sewed up the sole of the foot
                        of a boy who had trodden on the blade of a panga, a sort of sword the Africans use for
                        hacking down bush. He made an excellent job of it. George tells me that the Africans
                        have wonderful powers of recuperation. Once in his bachelor days, one of his men was
                        disembowelled by an elephant. George washed his “guts” in a weak solution of
                        pot.permang, put them back in the cavity and sewed up the torn flesh and he
                        recovered.

                        But to get back to the neighbours. We see less of Hicky Wood than of Kath.
                        Hicky can be charming but is often moody as I believe Irishmen often are.
                        Major Jones is now at home on his shamba, which he leaves from time to time
                        for temporary jobs on the district roads. He walks across fairly regularly and we are
                        always glad to see him for he is a great bearer of news. In this part of Africa there is no
                        knocking or ringing of doorbells. Front doors are always left open and visitors always
                        welcome. When a visitor approaches a house he shouts “Hodi”, and the owner of the
                        house yells “Karibu”, which I believe means “Come near” or approach, and tea is
                        produced in a matter of minutes no matter what hour of the day it is.
                        The road that passes all our farms is the only road to the Gold Diggings and
                        diggers often drop in on the Woods and Major Jones and bring news of the Goldfields.
                        This news is sometimes about gold but quite often about whose wife is living with
                        whom. This is a great country for gossip.

                        Major Jones now has his brother Llewyllen living with him. I drove across with
                        George to be introduced to him. Llewyllen’s health is poor and he looks much older than
                        his years and very like the portrait of Trader Horn. He has the same emaciated features,
                        burning eyes and long beard. He is proud of his Welsh tenor voice and often bursts into
                        song.

                        Both brothers are excellent conversationalists and George enjoys walking over
                        sometimes on a Sunday for a bit of masculine company. The other day when George
                        walked across to visit the Joneses, he found both brothers in the shamba and Llew in a
                        great rage. They had been stooping to inspect a water furrow when Llew backed into a
                        hornets nest. One furious hornet stung him on the seat and another on the back of his
                        neck. Llew leapt forward and somehow his false teeth shot out into the furrow and were
                        carried along by the water. When George arrived Llew had retrieved his teeth but
                        George swears that, in the commotion, the heavy leather leggings, which Llew always
                        wears, had swivelled around on his thin legs and were calves to the front.
                        George has heard that Major Jones is to sell pert of his land to his Swedish brother-in-law, Max Coster, so we will soon have another couple in the neighbourhood.

                        I’ve had a bit of a pantomime here on the farm. On the day we went to Tukuyu,
                        all our washing was stolen from the clothes line and also our new charcoal iron. George
                        reported the matter to the police and they sent out a plain clothes policeman. He wears
                        the long white Arab gown called a Kanzu much in vogue here amongst the African elite
                        but, alas for secrecy, huge black police boots protrude from beneath the Kanzu and, to
                        add to this revealing clue, the askari springs to attention and salutes each time I pass by.
                        Not much hope of finding out the identity of the thief I fear.

                        George’s furrow was entirely successful and we now have water running behind
                        the kitchen. Our drinking water we get from a lovely little spring on the farm. We boil and
                        filter it for safety’s sake. I don’t think that is necessary. The furrow water is used for
                        washing pots and pans and for bath water.

                        Lots of love,
                        Eleanor

                        Mchewe Estate. 8th. August 1931

                        Dearest Family,

                        I think it is about time I told you that we are going to have a baby. We are both
                        thrilled about it. I have not seen a Doctor but feel very well and you are not to worry. I
                        looked it up in my handbook for wives and reckon that the baby is due about February
                        8th. next year.

                        The announcement came from George, not me! I had been feeling queasy for
                        days and was waiting for the right moment to tell George. You know. Soft lights and
                        music etc. However when I was listlessly poking my food around one lunch time
                        George enquired calmly, “When are you going to tell me about the baby?” Not at all
                        according to the book! The problem is where to have the baby. February is a very wet
                        month and the nearest Doctor is over 50 miles away at Tukuyu. I cannot go to stay at
                        Tukuyu because there is no European accommodation at the hospital, no hotel and no
                        friend with whom I could stay.

                        George thinks I should go South to you but Capetown is so very far away and I
                        love my little home here. Also George says he could not come all the way down with
                        me as he simply must stay here and get the farm on its feet. He would drive me as far
                        as the railway in Northern Rhodesia. It is a difficult decision to take. Write and tell me what
                        you think.

                        The days tick by quietly here. The servants are very willing but have to be
                        supervised and even then a crisis can occur. Last Saturday I was feeling squeamish and
                        decided not to have lunch. I lay reading on the couch whilst George sat down to a
                        solitary curry lunch. Suddenly he gave an exclamation and pushed back his chair. I
                        jumped up to see what was wrong and there, on his plate, gleaming in the curry gravy
                        were small bits of broken glass. I hurried to the kitchen to confront Lamek with the plate.
                        He explained that he had dropped the new and expensive bottle of curry powder on
                        the brick floor of the kitchen. He did not tell me as he thought I would make a “shauri” so
                        he simply scooped up the curry powder, removed the larger pieces of glass and used
                        part of the powder for seasoning the lunch.

                        The weather is getting warmer now. It was very cold in June and July and we had
                        fires in the daytime as well as at night. Now that much of the land has been cleared we
                        are able to go for pleasant walks in the weekends. My favourite spot is a waterfall on the
                        Mchewe River just on the boundary of our land. There is a delightful little pool below the
                        waterfall and one day George intends to stock it with trout.

                        Now that there are more Europeans around to buy meat the natives find it worth
                        their while to kill an occasional beast. Every now and again a native arrives with a large
                        bowl of freshly killed beef for sale. One has no way of knowing whether the animal was
                        healthy and the meat is often still warm and very bloody. I hated handling it at first but am
                        becoming accustomed to it now and have even started a brine tub. There is no other
                        way of keeping meat here and it can only be kept in its raw state for a few hours before
                        going bad. One of the delicacies is the hump which all African cattle have. When corned
                        it is like the best brisket.

                        See what a housewife I am becoming.
                        With much love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. Sept.6th. 1931

                        Dearest Family,

                        I have grown to love the life here and am sad to think I shall be leaving
                        Tanganyika soon for several months. Yes I am coming down to have the baby in the
                        bosom of the family. George thinks it best and so does the doctor. I didn’t mention it
                        before but I have never recovered fully from the effects of that bad bout of malaria and
                        so I have been persuaded to leave George and our home and go to the Cape, in the
                        hope that I shall come back here as fit as when I first arrived in the country plus a really
                        healthy and bouncing baby. I am torn two ways, I long to see you all – but how I would
                        love to stay on here.

                        George will drive me down to Northern Rhodesia in early October to catch a
                        South bound train. I’ll telegraph the date of departure when I know it myself. The road is
                        very, very bad and the car has been giving a good deal of trouble so, though the baby
                        is not due until early February, George thinks it best to get the journey over soon as
                        possible, for the rains break in November and the the roads will then be impassable. It
                        may take us five or six days to reach Broken Hill as we will take it slowly. I am looking
                        forward to the drive through new country and to camping out at night.
                        Our days pass quietly by. George is out on the shamba most of the day. He
                        goes out before breakfast on weekdays and spends most of the day working with the
                        men – not only supervising but actually working with his hands and beating the labourers
                        at their own jobs. He comes to the house for meals and tea breaks. I potter around the
                        house and garden, sew, mend and read. Lamek continues to be a treasure. he turns out
                        some surprising dishes. One of his specialities is stuffed chicken. He carefully skins the
                        chicken removing all bones. He then minces all the chicken meat and adds minced onion
                        and potatoes. He then stuffs the chicken skin with the minced meat and carefully sews it
                        together again. The resulting dish is very filling because the boned chicken is twice the
                        size of a normal one. It lies on its back as round as a football with bloated legs in the air.
                        Rather repulsive to look at but Lamek is most proud of his accomplishment.
                        The other day he produced another of his masterpieces – a cooked tortoise. It
                        was served on a dish covered with parsley and crouched there sans shell but, only too
                        obviously, a tortoise. I took one look and fled with heaving diaphragm, but George said
                        it tasted quite good. He tells me that he has had queerer dishes produced by former
                        cooks. He says that once in his hunting days his cook served up a skinned baby
                        monkey with its hands folded on its breast. He says it would take a cannibal to eat that
                        dish.

                        And now for something sad. Poor old Llew died quite suddenly and it was a sad
                        shock to this tiny community. We went across to the funeral and it was a very simple and
                        dignified affair. Llew was buried on Joni’s farm in a grave dug by the farm boys. The
                        body was wrapped in a blanket and bound to some boards and lowered into the
                        ground. There was no service. The men just said “Good-bye Llew.” and “Sleep well
                        Llew”, and things like that. Then Joni and his brother-in-law Max, and George shovelled
                        soil over the body after which the grave was filled in by Joni’s shamba boys. It was a
                        lovely bright afternoon and I thought how simple and sensible a funeral it was.
                        I hope you will be glad to have me home. I bet Dad will be holding thumbs that
                        the baby will be a girl.

                        Very much love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Note
                        “There are no letters to my family during the period of Sept. 1931 to June 1932
                        because during these months I was living with my parents and sister in a suburb of
                        Cape Town. I had hoped to return to Tanganyika by air with my baby soon after her
                        birth in Feb.1932 but the doctor would not permit this.

                        A month before my baby was born, a company called Imperial Airways, had
                        started the first passenger service between South Africa and England. One of the night
                        stops was at Mbeya near my husband’s coffee farm, and it was my intention to take the
                        train to Broken Hill in Northern Rhodesia and to fly from there to Mbeya with my month
                        old baby. In those days however, commercial flying was still a novelty and the doctor
                        was not sure that flying at a high altitude might not have an adverse effect upon a young
                        baby.

                        He strongly advised me to wait until the baby was four months old and I did this
                        though the long wait was very trying to my husband alone on our farm in Tanganyika,
                        and to me, cherished though I was in my old home.

                        My story, covering those nine long months is soon told. My husband drove me
                        down from Mbeya to Broken Hill in NorthernRhodesia. The journey was tedious as the
                        weather was very hot and dry and the road sandy and rutted, very different from the
                        Great North road as it is today. The wooden wheel spokes of the car became so dry
                        that they rattled and George had to bind wet rags around them. We had several
                        punctures and with one thing and another I was lucky to catch the train.
                        My parents were at Cape Town station to welcome me and I stayed
                        comfortably with them, living very quietly, until my baby was born. She arrived exactly
                        on the appointed day, Feb.8th.

                        I wrote to my husband “Our Charmian Ann is a darling baby. She is very fair and
                        rather pale and has the most exquisite hands, with long tapering fingers. Daddy
                        absolutely dotes on her and so would you, if you were here. I can’t bear to think that you
                        are so terribly far away. Although Ann was born exactly on the day, I was taken quite by
                        surprise. It was awfully hot on the night before, and before going to bed I had a fancy for
                        some water melon. The result was that when I woke in the early morning with labour
                        pains and vomiting I thought it was just an attack of indigestion due to eating too much
                        melon. The result was that I did not wake Marjorie until the pains were pretty frequent.
                        She called our next door neighbour who, in his pyjamas, drove me to the nursing home
                        at breakneck speed. The Matron was very peeved that I had left things so late but all
                        went well and by nine o’clock, Mother, positively twittering with delight, was allowed to
                        see me and her first granddaughter . She told me that poor Dad was in such a state of
                        nerves that he was sick amongst the grapevines. He says that he could not bear to go
                        through such an anxious time again, — so we will have to have our next eleven in
                        Tanganyika!”

                        The next four months passed rapidly as my time was taken up by the demands
                        of my new baby. Dr. Trudy King’s method of rearing babies was then the vogue and I
                        stuck fanatically to all the rules he laid down, to the intense exasperation of my parents
                        who longed to cuddle the child.

                        As the time of departure drew near my parents became more and more reluctant
                        to allow me to face the journey alone with their adored grandchild, so my brother,
                        Graham, very generously offered to escort us on the train to Broken Hill where he could
                        put us on the plane for Mbeya.

                        Eleanor Rushby

                         

                        Mchewe Estate. June 15th 1932

                        Dearest Family,

                        You’ll be glad to know that we arrived quite safe and sound and very, very
                        happy to be home.The train Journey was uneventful. Ann slept nearly all the way.
                        Graham was very kind and saw to everything. He even sat with the baby whilst I went
                        to meals in the dining car.

                        We were met at Broken Hill by the Thoms who had arranged accommodation for
                        us at the hotel for the night. They also drove us to the aerodrome in the morning where
                        the Airways agent told us that Ann is the first baby to travel by air on this section of the
                        Cape to England route. The plane trip was very bumpy indeed especially between
                        Broken Hill and Mpika. Everyone was ill including poor little Ann who sicked up her milk
                        all over the front of my new coat. I arrived at Mbeya looking a sorry caricature of Radiant
                        Motherhood. I must have been pale green and the baby was snow white. Under the
                        circumstances it was a good thing that George did not meet us. We were met instead
                        by Ken Menzies, the owner of the Mbeya Hotel where we spent the night. Ken was
                        most fatherly and kind and a good nights rest restored Ann and me to our usual robust
                        health.

                        Mbeya has greatly changed. The hotel is now finished and can accommodate
                        fifty guests. It consists of a large main building housing a large bar and dining room and
                        offices and a number of small cottage bedrooms. It even has electric light. There are
                        several buildings out at the aerodrome and private houses going up in Mbeya.
                        After breakfast Ken Menzies drove us out to the farm where we had a warm
                        welcome from George, who looks well but rather thin. The house was spotless and the
                        new cook, Abel, had made light scones for tea. George had prepared all sorts of lovely
                        surprises. There is a new reed ceiling in the living room and a new dresser gay with
                        willow pattern plates which he had ordered from England. There is also a writing table
                        and a square table by the door for visitors hats. More personal is a lovely model ship
                        which George assembled from one of those Hobbie’s kits. It puts the finishing touch to
                        the rather old world air of our living room.

                        In the bedroom there is a large double bed which George made himself. It has
                        strips of old car tyres nailed to a frame which makes a fine springy mattress and on top
                        of this is a thick mattress of kapok.In the kitchen there is a good wood stove which
                        George salvaged from a Mission dump. It looks a bit battered but works very well. The
                        new cook is excellent. The only blight is that he will wear rubber soled tennis shoes and
                        they smell awful. I daren’t hurt his feelings by pointing this out though. Opposite the
                        kitchen is a new laundry building containing a forty gallon hot water drum and a sink for
                        washing up. Lovely!

                        George has been working very hard. He now has forty acres of coffee seedlings
                        planted out and has also found time to plant a rose garden and fruit trees. There are
                        orange and peach trees, tree tomatoes, paw paws, guavas and berries. He absolutely
                        adores Ann who has been very good and does not seem at all unsettled by the long
                        journey.

                        It is absolutely heavenly to be back and I shall be happier than ever now that I
                        have a baby to play with during the long hours when George is busy on the farm,
                        Thank you for all your love and care during the many months I was with you. Ann
                        sends a special bubble for granddad.

                        Your very loving,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate Mbeya July 18th 1932

                        Dearest Family,

                        Ann at five months is enchanting. She is a very good baby, smiles readily and is
                        gaining weight steadily. She doesn’t sleep much during the day but that does not
                        matter, because, apart from washing her little things, I have nothing to do but attend to
                        her. She sleeps very well at night which is a blessing as George has to get up very
                        early to start work on the shamba and needs a good nights rest.
                        My nights are not so good, because we are having a plague of rats which frisk
                        around in the bedroom at night. Great big ones that come up out of the long grass in the
                        gorge beside the house and make cosy homes on our reed ceiling and in the thatch of
                        the roof.

                        We always have a night light burning so that, if necessary, I can attend to Ann
                        with a minimum of fuss, and the things I see in that dim light! There are gaps between
                        the reeds and one night I heard, plop! and there, before my horrified gaze, lay a newly
                        born hairless baby rat on the floor by the bed, plop, plop! and there lay two more.
                        Quite dead, poor things – but what a careless mother.

                        I have also seen rats scampering around on the tops of the mosquito nets and
                        sometimes we have them on our bed. They have a lovely game. They swarm down
                        the cord from which the mosquito net is suspended, leap onto the bed and onto the
                        floor. We do not have our net down now the cold season is here and there are few
                        mosquitoes.

                        Last week a rat crept under Ann’s net which hung to the floor and bit her little
                        finger, so now I tuck the net in under the mattress though it makes it difficult for me to
                        attend to her at night. We shall have to get a cat somewhere. Ann’s pram has not yet
                        arrived so George carries her when we go walking – to her great content.
                        The native women around here are most interested in Ann. They come to see
                        her, bearing small gifts, and usually bring a child or two with them. They admire my child
                        and I admire theirs and there is an exchange of gifts. They produce a couple of eggs or
                        a few bananas or perhaps a skinny fowl and I hand over sugar, salt or soap as they
                        value these commodities. The most lavish gift went to the wife of Thomas our headman,
                        who produced twin daughters in the same week as I had Ann.

                        Our neighbours have all been across to welcome me back and to admire the
                        baby. These include Marion Coster who came out to join her husband whilst I was in
                        South Africa. The two Hickson-Wood children came over on a fat old white donkey.
                        They made a pretty picture sitting astride, one behind the other – Maureen with her arms
                        around small Michael’s waist. A native toto led the donkey and the children’ s ayah
                        walked beside it.

                        It is quite cold here now but the sun is bright and the air dry. The whole
                        countryside is beautifully green and we are a very happy little family.

                        Lots and lots of love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate August 11th 1932

                        Dearest Family,

                        George has been very unwell for the past week. He had a nasty gash on his
                        knee which went septic. He had a swelling in the groin and a high temperature and could
                        not sleep at night for the pain in his leg. Ann was very wakeful too during the same
                        period, I think she is teething. I luckily have kept fit though rather harassed. Yesterday the
                        leg looked so inflamed that George decided to open up the wound himself. he made
                        quite a big cut in exactly the right place. You should have seen the blackish puss
                        pouring out.

                        After he had thoroughly cleaned the wound George sewed it up himself. he has
                        the proper surgical needles and gut. He held the cut together with his left hand and
                        pushed the needle through the flesh with his right. I pulled the needle out and passed it
                        to George for the next stitch. I doubt whether a surgeon could have made a neater job
                        of it. He is still confined to the couch but today his temperature is normal. Some
                        husband!

                        The previous week was hectic in another way. We had a visit from lions! George
                        and I were having supper about 8.30 on Tuesday night when the back verandah was
                        suddenly invaded by women and children from the servants quarters behind the kitchen.
                        They were all yelling “Simba, Simba.” – simba means lions. The door opened suddenly
                        and the houseboy rushed in to say that there were lions at the huts. George got up
                        swiftly, fetched gun and ammunition from the bedroom and with the houseboy carrying
                        the lamp, went off to investigate. I remained at the table, carrying on with my supper as I
                        felt a pioneer’s wife should! Suddenly something big leapt through the open window
                        behind me. You can imagine what I thought! I know now that it is quite true to say one’s
                        hair rises when one is scared. However it was only Kelly, our huge Irish wolfhound,
                        taking cover.

                        George returned quite soon to say that apparently the commotion made by the
                        women and children had frightened the lions off. He found their tracks in the soft earth
                        round the huts and a bag of maize that had been playfully torn open but the lions had
                        moved on.

                        Next day we heard that they had moved to Hickson-Wood’s shamba. Hicky
                        came across to say that the lions had jumped over the wall of his cattle boma and killed
                        both his white Muskat riding donkeys.
                        He and a friend sat up all next night over the remains but the lions did not return to
                        the kill.

                        Apart from the little set back last week, Ann is blooming. She has a cap of very
                        fine fair hair and clear blue eyes under straight brow. She also has lovely dimples in both
                        cheeks. We are very proud of her.

                        Our neighbours are picking coffee but the crops are small and the price is low. I
                        am amazed that they are so optimistic about the future. No one in these parts ever
                        seems to grouse though all are living on capital. They all say “Well if the worst happens
                        we can always go up to the Lupa Diggings.”

                        Don’t worry about us, we have enough to tide us over for some time yet.

                        Much love to all,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. 28th Sept. 1932

                        Dearest Family,

                        News! News! I’m going to have another baby. George and I are delighted and I
                        hope it will be a boy this time. I shall be able to have him at Mbeya because things are
                        rapidly changing here. Several German families have moved to Mbeya including a
                        German doctor who means to build a hospital there. I expect he will make a very good
                        living because there must now be some hundreds of Europeans within a hundred miles
                        radius of Mbeya. The Europeans are mostly British or German but there are also
                        Greeks and, I believe, several other nationalities are represented on the Lupa Diggings.
                        Ann is blooming and developing according to the Book except that she has no
                        teeth yet! Kath Hickson-Wood has given her a very nice high chair and now she has
                        breakfast and lunch at the table with us. Everything within reach goes on the floor to her
                        amusement and my exasperation!

                        You ask whether we have any Church of England missionaries in our part. No we
                        haven’t though there are Lutheran and Roman Catholic Missions. I have never even
                        heard of a visiting Church of England Clergyman to these parts though there are babies
                        in plenty who have not been baptised. Jolly good thing I had Ann Christened down
                        there.

                        The R.C. priests in this area are called White Fathers. They all have beards and
                        wear white cassocks and sun helmets. One, called Father Keiling, calls around frequently.
                        Though none of us in this area is Catholic we take it in turn to put him up for the night. The
                        Catholic Fathers in their turn are most hospitable to travellers regardless of their beliefs.
                        Rather a sad thing has happened. Lucas our old chicken-boy is dead. I shall miss
                        his toothy smile. George went to the funeral and fired two farewell shots from his rifle
                        over the grave – a gesture much appreciated by the locals. Lucas in his day was a good
                        hunter.

                        Several of the locals own muzzle loading guns but the majority hunt with dogs
                        and spears. The dogs wear bells which make an attractive jingle but I cannot bear the
                        idea of small antelope being run down until they are exhausted before being clubbed of
                        stabbed to death. We seldom eat venison as George does not care to shoot buck.
                        Recently though, he shot an eland and Abel rendered down the fat which is excellent for
                        cooking and very like beef fat.

                        Much love to all,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. P.O.Mbeya 21st November 1932

                        Dearest Family,

                        George has gone off to the Lupa for a week with John Molteno. John came up
                        here with the idea of buying a coffee farm but he has changed his mind and now thinks of
                        staking some claims on the diggings and also setting up as a gold buyer.

                        Did I tell you about his arrival here? John and George did some elephant hunting
                        together in French Equatorial Africa and when John heard that George had married and
                        settled in Tanganyika, he also decided to come up here. He drove up from Cape Town
                        in a Baby Austin and arrived just as our labourers were going home for the day. The little
                        car stopped half way up our hill and John got out to investigate. You should have heard
                        the astonished exclamations when John got out – all 6 ft 5 ins. of him! He towered over
                        the little car and even to me it seemed impossible for him to have made the long
                        journey in so tiny a car.

                        Kath Wood has been over several times lately. She is slim and looks so right in
                        the shirt and corduroy slacks she almost always wears. She was here yesterday when
                        the shamba boy, digging in the front garden, unearthed a large earthenware cooking pot,
                        sealed at the top. I was greatly excited and had an instant mental image of fabulous
                        wealth. We made the boy bring the pot carefully on to the verandah and opened it in
                        happy anticipation. What do you think was inside? Nothing but a grinning skull! Such a
                        treat for a pregnant female.

                        We have a tree growing here that had lovely straight branches covered by a
                        smooth bark. I got the garden boy to cut several of these branches of a uniform size,
                        peeled off the bark and have made Ann a playpen with the poles which are much like
                        broom sticks. Now I can leave her unattended when I do my chores. The other morning
                        after breakfast I put Ann in her playpen on the verandah and gave her a piece of toast
                        and honey to keep her quiet whilst I laundered a few of her things. When I looked out a
                        little later I was horrified to see a number of bees buzzing around her head whilst she
                        placidly concentrated on her toast. I made a rapid foray and rescued her but I still don’t
                        know whether that was the thing to do.

                        We all send our love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mbeya Hospital. April 25th. 1933

                        Dearest Family,

                        Here I am, installed at the very new hospital, built by Dr Eckhardt, awaiting the
                        arrival of the new baby. George has gone back to the farm on foot but will walk in again
                        to spend the weekend with us. Ann is with me and enjoys the novelty of playing with
                        other children. The Eckhardts have two, a pretty little girl of two and a half and a very fair
                        roly poly boy of Ann’s age. Ann at fourteen months is very active. She is quite a little girl
                        now with lovely dimples. She walks well but is backward in teething.

                        George, Ann and I had a couple of days together at the hotel before I moved in
                        here and several of the local women visited me and have promised to visit me in
                        hospital. The trip from farm to town was very entertaining if not very comfortable. There
                        is ten miles of very rough road between our farm and Utengule Mission and beyond the
                        Mission there is a fair thirteen or fourteen mile road to Mbeya.

                        As we have no car now the doctor’s wife offered to drive us from the Mission to
                        Mbeya but she would not risk her car on the road between the Mission and our farm.
                        The upshot was that I rode in the Hickson-Woods machila for that ten mile stretch. The
                        machila is a canopied hammock, slung from a bamboo pole, in which I reclined, not too
                        comfortably in my unwieldy state, with Ann beside me or sometime straddling me. Four
                        of our farm boys carried the machila on their shoulders, two fore and two aft. The relief
                        bearers walked on either side. There must have been a dozen in all and they sang a sort
                        of sea shanty song as they walked. One man would sing a verse and the others took up
                        the chorus. They often improvise as they go. They moaned about my weight (at least
                        George said so! I don’t follow Ki-Swahili well yet) and expressed the hope that I would
                        have a son and that George would reward them handsomely.

                        George and Kelly, the dog, followed close behind the machila and behind
                        George came Abel our cook and his wife and small daughter Annalie, all in their best
                        attire. The cook wore a palm beach suit, large Terai hat and sunglasses and two colour
                        shoes and quite lent a tone to the proceedings! Right at the back came the rag tag and
                        bobtail who joined the procession just for fun.

                        Mrs Eckhardt was already awaiting us at the Mission when we arrived and we had
                        an uneventful trip to the Mbeya Hotel.

                        During my last week at the farm I felt very tired and engaged the cook’s small
                        daughter, Annalie, to amuse Ann for an hour after lunch so that I could have a rest. They
                        played in the small verandah room which adjoins our bedroom and where I keep all my
                        sewing materials. One afternoon I was startled by a scream from Ann. I rushed to the
                        room and found Ann with blood steaming from her cheek. Annalie knelt beside her,
                        looking startled and frightened, with my embroidery scissors in her hand. She had cut off
                        half of the long curling golden lashes on one of Ann’s eyelids and, in trying to finish the
                        job, had cut off a triangular flap of skin off Ann’s cheek bone.

                        I called Abel, the cook, and demanded that he should chastise his daughter there and
                        then and I soon heard loud shrieks from behind the kitchen. He spanked her with a
                        bamboo switch but I am sure not as well as she deserved. Africans are very tolerant
                        towards their children though I have seen husbands and wives fighting furiously.
                        I feel very well but long to have the confinement over.

                        Very much love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mbeya Hospital. 2nd May 1933.

                        Dearest Family,

                        Little George arrived at 7.30 pm on Saturday evening 29 th. April. George was
                        with me at the time as he had walked in from the farm for news, and what a wonderful bit
                        of luck that was. The doctor was away on a case on the Diggings and I was bathing Ann
                        with George looking on, when the pains started. George dried Ann and gave her
                        supper and put her to bed. Afterwards he sat on the steps outside my room and a
                        great comfort it was to know that he was there.

                        The confinement was short but pretty hectic. The Doctor returned to the Hospital
                        just in time to deliver the baby. He is a grand little boy, beautifully proportioned. The
                        doctor says he has never seen a better formed baby. He is however rather funny
                        looking just now as his head is, very temporarily, egg shaped. He has a shock of black
                        silky hair like a gollywog and believe it or not, he has a slight black moustache.
                        George came in, looked at the baby, looked at me, and we both burst out
                        laughing. The doctor was shocked and said so. He has no sense of humour and couldn’t
                        understand that we, though bursting with pride in our son, could never the less laugh at
                        him.

                        Friends in Mbeya have sent me the most gorgeous flowers and my room is
                        transformed with delphiniums, roses and carnations. The room would be very austere
                        without the flowers. Curtains, bedspread and enamelware, walls and ceiling are all
                        snowy white.

                        George hired a car and took Ann home next day. I have little George for
                        company during the day but he is removed at night. I am longing to get him home and
                        away from the German nurse who feeds him on black tea when he cries. She insists that
                        tea is a medicine and good for him.

                        Much love from a proud mother of two.
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate 12May 1933

                        Dearest Family,

                        We are all together at home again and how lovely it feels. Even the house
                        servants seem pleased. The boy had decorated the lounge with sprays of
                        bougainvillaea and Abel had backed one of his good sponge cakes.

                        Ann looked fat and rosy but at first was only moderately interested in me and the
                        new baby but she soon thawed. George is good with her and will continue to dress Ann
                        in the mornings and put her to bed until I am satisfied with Georgie.

                        He, poor mite, has a nasty rash on face and neck. I am sure it is just due to that
                        tea the nurse used to give him at night. He has lost his moustache and is fast loosing his
                        wild black hair and emerging as quite a handsome babe. He is a very masculine looking
                        infant with much more strongly marked eyebrows and a larger nose that Ann had. He is
                        very good and lies quietly in his basket even when awake.

                        George has been making a hatching box for brown trout ova and has set it up in
                        a small clear stream fed by a spring in readiness for the ova which is expected from
                        South Africa by next weeks plane. Some keen fishermen from Mbeya and the District
                        have clubbed together to buy the ova. The fingerlings are later to be transferred to
                        streams in Mbeya and Tukuyu Districts.

                        I shall now have my hands full with the two babies and will not have much time for the
                        garden, or I fear, for writing very long letters. Remember though, that no matter how
                        large my family becomes, I shall always love you as much as ever.

                        Your affectionate,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. 14th June 1933

                        Dearest Family,

                        The four of us are all well but alas we have lost our dear Kelly. He was rather a
                        silly dog really, although he grew so big he retained all his puppy ways but we were all
                        very fond of him, especially George because Kelly attached himself to George whilst I
                        was away having Ann and from that time on he was George’s shadow. I think he had
                        some form of biliary fever. He died stretched out on the living room couch late last night,
                        with George sitting beside him so that he would not feel alone.

                        The children are growing fast. Georgie is a darling. He now has a fluff of pale
                        brown hair and his eyes are large and dark brown. Ann is very plump and fair.
                        We have had several visitors lately. Apart from neighbours, a car load of diggers
                        arrived one night and John Molteno and his bride were here. She is a very attractive girl
                        but, I should say, more suited to life in civilisation than in this back of beyond. She has
                        gone out to the diggings with her husband and will have to walk a good stretch of the fifty
                        or so miles.

                        The diggers had to sleep in the living room on the couch and on hastily erected
                        camp beds. They arrived late at night and left after breakfast next day. One had half a
                        beard, the other side of his face had been forcibly shaved in the bar the night before.

                        your affectionate,
                        Eleanor

                        Mchewe Estate. August 10 th. 1933

                        Dearest Family,

                        George is away on safari with two Indian Army officers. The money he will get for
                        his services will be very welcome because this coffee growing is a slow business, and
                        our capitol is rapidly melting away. The job of acting as White Hunter was unexpected
                        or George would not have taken on the job of hatching the ova which duly arrived from
                        South Africa.

                        George and the District Commissioner, David Pollock, went to meet the plane
                        by which the ova had been consigned but the pilot knew nothing about the package. It
                        came to light in the mail bag with the parcels! However the ova came to no harm. David
                        Pollock and George brought the parcel to the farm and carefully transferred the ova to
                        the hatching box. It was interesting to watch the tiny fry hatch out – a process which took
                        several days. Many died in the process and George removed the dead by sucking
                        them up in a glass tube.

                        When hatched, the tiny fry were fed on ant eggs collected by the boys. I had to
                        take over the job of feeding and removing the dead when George left on safari. The fry
                        have to be fed every four hours, like the baby, so each time I have fed Georgie. I hurry
                        down to feed the trout.

                        The children are very good but keep me busy. Ann can now say several words
                        and understands more. She adores Georgie. I long to show them off to you.

                        Very much love
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. October 27th 1933

                        Dear Family,

                        All just over flu. George and Ann were very poorly. I did not fare so badly and
                        Georgie came off best. He is on a bottle now.

                        There was some excitement here last Wednesday morning. At 6.30 am. I called
                        for boiling water to make Georgie’s food. No water arrived but muffled shouting and the
                        sound of blows came from the kitchen. I went to investigate and found a fierce fight in
                        progress between the house boy and the kitchen boy. In my efforts to make them stop
                        fighting I went too close and got a sharp bang on the mouth with the edge of an
                        enamelled plate the kitchen boy was using as a weapon. My teeth cut my lip inside and
                        the plate cut it outside and blood flowed from mouth to chin. The boys were petrified.
                        By the time I had fed Georgie the lip was stiff and swollen. George went in wrath
                        to the kitchen and by breakfast time both house boy and kitchen boy had swollen faces
                        too. Since then I have a kettle of boiling water to hand almost before the words are out
                        of my mouth. I must say that the fight was because the house boy had clouted the
                        kitchen boy for keeping me waiting! In this land of piece work it is the job of the kitchen
                        boy to light the fire and boil the kettle but the houseboy’s job to carry the kettle to me.
                        I have seen little of Kath Wood or Marion Coster for the past two months. Major
                        Jones is the neighbour who calls most regularly. He has a wireless set and calls on all of
                        us to keep us up to date with world as well as local news. He often brings oranges for
                        Ann who adores him. He is a very nice person but no oil painting and makes no effort to
                        entertain Ann but she thinks he is fine. Perhaps his monocle appeals to her.

                        George has bought a six foot long galvanised bath which is a great improvement
                        on the smaller oval one we have used until now. The smaller one had grown battered
                        from much use and leaks like a sieve. Fortunately our bathroom has a cement floor,
                        because one had to fill the bath to the brim and then bath extremely quickly to avoid
                        being left high and dry.

                        Lots and lots of love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. P.O. Mbeya 1st December 1933

                        Dearest Family,

                        Ann has not been well. We think she has had malaria. She has grown a good
                        deal lately and looks much thinner and rather pale. Georgie is thriving and has such
                        sparkling brown eyes and a ready smile. He and Ann make a charming pair, one so fair
                        and the other dark.

                        The Moltenos’ spent a few days here and took Georgie and me to Mbeya so
                        that Georgie could be vaccinated. However it was an unsatisfactory trip because the
                        doctor had no vaccine.

                        George went to the Lupa with the Moltenos and returned to the farm in their Baby
                        Austin which they have lent to us for a week. This was to enable me to go to Mbeya to
                        have a couple of teeth filled by a visiting dentist.

                        We went to Mbeya in the car on Saturday. It was quite a squash with the four of
                        us on the front seat of the tiny car. Once George grabbed the babies foot instead of the
                        gear knob! We had Georgie vaccinated at the hospital and then went to the hotel where
                        the dentist was installed. Mr Dare, the dentist, had few instruments and they were very
                        tarnished. I sat uncomfortably on a kitchen chair whilst he tinkered with my teeth. He filled
                        three but two of the fillings came out that night. This meant another trip to Mbeya in the
                        Baby Austin but this time they seem all right.

                        The weather is very hot and dry and the garden a mess. We are having trouble
                        with the young coffee trees too. Cut worms are killing off seedlings in the nursery and
                        there is a borer beetle in the planted out coffee.

                        George bought a large grey donkey from some wandering Masai and we hope
                        the children will enjoy riding it later on.

                        Very much love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. 14th February 1934.

                        Dearest Family,

                        You will be sorry to hear that little Ann has been very ill, indeed we were terribly
                        afraid that we were going to lose her. She enjoyed her birthday on the 8th. All the toys
                        you, and her English granny, sent were unwrapped with such delight. However next
                        day she seemed listless and a bit feverish so I tucked her up in bed after lunch. I dosed
                        her with quinine and aspirin and she slept fitfully. At about eleven o’clock I was
                        awakened by a strange little cry. I turned up the night light and was horrified to see that
                        Ann was in a convulsion. I awakened George who, as always in an emergency, was
                        perfectly calm and practical. He filled the small bath with very warm water and emersed
                        Ann in it, placing a cold wet cloth on her head. We then wrapped her in blankets and
                        gave her an enema and she settled down to sleep. A few hours later we had the same
                        thing over again.

                        At first light we sent a runner to Mbeya to fetch the doctor but waited all day in
                        vain and in the evening the runner returned to say that the doctor had gone to a case on
                        the diggings. Ann had been feverish all day with two or three convulsions. Neither
                        George or I wished to leave the bedroom, but there was Georgie to consider, and in
                        the afternoon I took him out in the garden for a while whilst George sat with Ann.
                        That night we both sat up all night and again Ann had those wretched attacks of
                        convulsions. George and I were worn out with anxiety by the time the doctor arrived the
                        next afternoon. Ann had not been able to keep down any quinine and had had only
                        small sips of water since the onset of the attack.

                        The doctor at once diagnosed the trouble as malaria aggravated by teething.
                        George held Ann whilst the Doctor gave her an injection. At the first attempt the needle
                        bent into a bow, George was furious! The second attempt worked and after a few hours
                        Ann’s temperature dropped and though she was ill for two days afterwards she is now
                        up and about. She has also cut the last of her baby teeth, thank God. She looks thin and
                        white, but should soon pick up. It has all been a great strain to both of us. Georgie
                        behaved like an angel throughout. He played happily in his cot and did not seem to
                        sense any tension as people say, babies do. Our baby was cheerful and not at all
                        subdued.

                        This is the rainy season and it is a good thing that some work has been done on
                        our road or the doctor might not have got through.

                        Much love to all,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. 1st October 1934

                        Dearest Family,

                        We are all well now, thank goodness, but last week Georgie gave us such a
                        fright. I was sitting on the verandah, busy with some sewing and not watching Ann and
                        Georgie, who were trying to reach a bunch of bananas which hung on a rope from a
                        beam of the verandah. Suddenly I heard a crash, Georgie had fallen backward over the
                        edge of the verandah and hit the back of his head on the edge of the brick furrow which
                        carries away the rainwater. He lay flat on his back with his arms spread out and did not
                        move or cry. When I picked him up he gave a little whimper, I carried him to his cot and
                        bathed his face and soon he began sitting up and appeared quite normal. The trouble
                        began after he had vomited up his lunch. He began to whimper and bang his head
                        against the cot.

                        George and I were very worried because we have no transport so we could not
                        take Georgie to the doctor and we could not bear to go through again what we had gone
                        through with Ann earlier in the year. Then, in the late afternoon, a miracle happened. Two
                        men George hardly knew, and complete strangers to me, called in on their way from the
                        diggings to Mbeya and they kindly drove Georgie and me to the hospital. The Doctor
                        allowed me to stay with Georgie and we spent five days there. Luckily he responded to
                        treatment and is now as alive as ever. Children do put years on one!

                        There is nothing much else to report. We have a new vegetable garden which is
                        doing well but the earth here is strange. Gardens seem to do well for two years but by
                        that time the soil is exhausted and one must move the garden somewhere else. The
                        coffee looks well but it will be another year before we can expect even a few bags of
                        coffee and prices are still low. Anyway by next year George should have some good
                        return for all his hard work.

                        Lots of love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. November 4th 1934

                        Dearest Family,

                        George is home from his White Hunting safari looking very sunburnt and well.
                        The elderly American, who was his client this time, called in here at the farm to meet me
                        and the children. It is amazing what spirit these old lads have! This one looked as though
                        he should be thinking in terms of slippers and an armchair but no, he thinks in terms of
                        high powered rifles with telescopic sights.

                        It is lovely being together again and the children are delighted to have their Dad
                        home. Things are always exciting when George is around. The day after his return
                        George said at breakfast, “We can’t go on like this. You and the kids never get off the
                        shamba. We’ll simply have to get a car.” You should have heard the excitement. “Get a
                        car Daddy?’” cried Ann jumping in her chair so that her plaits bounced. “Get a car
                        Daddy?” echoed Georgie his brown eyes sparkling. “A car,” said I startled, “However
                        can we afford one?”

                        “Well,” said George, “on my way back from Safari I heard that a car is to be sold
                        this week at the Tukuyu Court, diseased estate or bankruptcy or something, I might get it
                        cheap and it is an A.C.” The name meant nothing to me, but George explained that an
                        A.C. is first cousin to a Rolls Royce.

                        So off he went to the sale and next day the children and I listened all afternoon for
                        the sound of an approaching car. We had many false alarms but, towards evening we
                        heard what appeared to be the roar of an aeroplane engine. It was the A.C. roaring her
                        way up our steep hill with a long plume of steam waving gaily above her radiator.
                        Out jumped my beaming husband and in no time at all, he was showing off her
                        points to an admiring family. Her lines are faultless and seats though worn are most
                        comfortable. She has a most elegant air so what does it matter that the radiator leaks like
                        a sieve, her exhaust pipe has broken off, her tyres are worn almost to the canvas and
                        she has no windscreen. She goes, and she cost only five pounds.

                        Next afternoon George, the kids and I piled into the car and drove along the road
                        on lookout for guinea fowl. All went well on the outward journey but on the homeward
                        one the poor A.C. simply gasped and died. So I carried the shot gun and George
                        carried both children and we trailed sadly home. This morning George went with a bunch
                        of farmhands and brought her home. Truly temperamental, she came home literally
                        under her own steam.

                        George now plans to get a second hand engine and radiator for her but it won’t
                        be an A.C. engine. I think she is the only one of her kind in the country.
                        I am delighted to hear, dad, that you are sending a bridle for Joseph for
                        Christmas. I am busy making a saddle out of an old piece of tent canvas stuffed with
                        kapok, some webbing and some old rug straps. A car and a riding donkey! We’re
                        definitely carriage folk now.

                        Lots of love to all,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. 28th December 1934

                        Dearest Family,

                        Thank you for the wonderful Christmas parcel. My frock is a splendid fit. George
                        declares that no one can knit socks like Mummy and the children love their toys and new
                        clothes.

                        Joseph, the donkey, took his bit with an air of bored resignation and Ann now
                        rides proudly on his back. Joseph is a big strong animal with the looks and disposition of
                        a mule. he will not go at all unless a native ‘toto’ walks before him and when he does go
                        he wears a pained expression as though he were carrying fourteen stone instead of
                        Ann’s fly weight. I walk beside the donkey carrying Georgie and our cat, ‘Skinny Winnie’,
                        follows behind. Quite a cavalcade. The other day I got so exasperated with Joseph that
                        I took Ann off and I got on. Joseph tottered a few paces and sat down! to the huge
                        delight of our farm labourers who were going home from work. Anyway, one good thing,
                        the donkey is so lazy that there is little chance of him bolting with Ann.

                        The Moltenos spent Christmas with us and left for the Lupa Diggings yesterday.
                        They arrived on the 22nd. with gifts for the children and chocolates and beer. That very
                        afternoon George and John Molteno left for Ivuna, near Lake Ruckwa, to shoot some
                        guinea fowl and perhaps a goose for our Christmas dinner. We expected the menfolk
                        back on Christmas Eve and Anne and I spent a busy day making mince pies and
                        sausage rolls. Why I don’t know, because I am sure Abel could have made them better.
                        We decorated the Christmas tree and sat up very late but no husbands turned up.
                        Christmas day passed but still no husbands came. Anne, like me, is expecting a baby
                        and we both felt pretty forlorn and cross. Anne was certain that they had been caught up
                        in a party somewhere and had forgotten all about us and I must say when Boxing Day
                        went by and still George and John did not show up I felt ready to agree with her.
                        They turned up towards evening and explained that on the homeward trip the car
                        had bogged down in the mud and that they had spent a miserable Christmas. Anne
                        refused to believe their story so George, to prove their case, got the game bag and
                        tipped the contents on to the dining room table. Out fell several guinea fowl, long past
                        being edible, followed by a large goose so high that it was green and blue where all the
                        feathers had rotted off.

                        The stench was too much for two pregnant girls. I shot out of the front door
                        closely followed by Anne and we were both sick in the garden.

                        I could not face food that evening but Anne is made of stronger stuff and ate her
                        belated Christmas dinner with relish.

                        I am looking forward enormously to having Marjorie here with us. She will be able
                        to carry back to you an eyewitness account of our home and way of life.

                        Much love to you all,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. 5th January 1935

                        Dearest Family,

                        You cannot imagine how lovely it is to have Marjorie here. She came just in time
                        because I have had pernicious vomiting and have lost a great deal of weight and she
                        took charge of the children and made me spend three days in hospital having treatment.
                        George took me to the hospital on the afternoon of New Years Eve and decided
                        to spend the night at the hotel and join in the New Years Eve celebrations. I had several
                        visitors at the hospital that evening and George actually managed to get some imported
                        grapes for me. He returned to the farm next morning and fetched me from the hospital
                        four days later. Of course the old A.C. just had to play up. About half way home the
                        back axle gave in and we had to send a passing native some miles back to a place
                        called Mbalizi to hire a lorry from a Greek trader to tow us home to the farm.
                        The children looked well and were full of beans. I think Marjorie was thankful to
                        hand them over to me. She is delighted with Ann’s motherly little ways but Georgie she
                        calls “a really wild child”. He isn’t, just has such an astonishing amount of energy and is
                        always up to mischief. Marjorie brought us all lovely presents. I am so thrilled with my
                        sewing machine. It may be an old model but it sews marvellously. We now have an
                        Alsatian pup as well as Joseph the donkey and the two cats.

                        Marjorie had a midnight encounter with Joseph which gave her quite a shock but
                        we had a good laugh about it next day. Some months ago George replaced our wattle
                        and daub outside pit lavatory by a substantial brick one, so large that Joseph is being
                        temporarily stabled in it at night. We neglected to warn Marj about this and one night,
                        storm lamp in hand, she opened the door and Joseph walked out braying his thanks.
                        I am afraid Marjorie is having a quiet time, a shame when the journey from Cape
                        Town is so expensive. The doctor has told me to rest as much as I can, so it is
                        impossible for us to take Marj on sight seeing trips.

                        I hate to think that she will be leaving in ten days time.

                        Much love,
                        Eleanor.

                        Mchewe Estate. 18th February 1935

                        Dearest Family,

                        You must be able to visualise our life here quite well now that Marj is back and
                        has no doubt filled in all the details I forget to mention in my letters. What a journey we
                        had in the A.C. when we took her to the plane. George, the children and I sat in front and
                        Marj sat behind with numerous four gallon tins of water for the insatiable radiator. It was
                        raining and the canvas hood was up but part of the side flaps are missing and as there is
                        no glass in the windscreen the rain blew in on us. George got fed up with constantly
                        removing the hot radiator cap so simply stuffed a bit of rag in instead. When enough
                        steam had built up in the radiator behind the rag it blew out and we started all over again.
                        The car still roars like an aeroplane engine and yet has little power so that George sent
                        gangs of boys to the steep hills between the farm and the Mission to give us a push if
                        necessary. Fortunately this time it was not, and the boys cheered us on our way. We
                        needed their help on the homeward journey however.

                        George has now bought an old Chev engine which he means to install before I
                        have to go to hospital to have my new baby. It will be quite an engineering feet as
                        George has few tools.

                        I am sorry to say that I am still not well, something to do with kidneys or bladder.
                        George bought me some pills from one of the several small shops which have opened
                        in Mbeya and Ann is most interested in the result. She said seriously to Kath Wood,
                        “Oh my Mummy is a very clever Mummy. She can do blue wee and green wee as well
                        as yellow wee.” I simply can no longer manage the children without help and have
                        engaged the cook’s wife, Janey, to help. The children are by no means thrilled. I plead in
                        vain that I am not well enough to go for walks. Ann says firmly, “Ann doesn’t want to go
                        for a walk. Ann will look after you.” Funny, though she speaks well for a three year old,
                        she never uses the first person. Georgie say he would much rather walk with
                        Keshokutwa, the kitchen boy. His name by the way, means day-after-tomorrow and it
                        suits him down to the ground, Kath Wood walks over sometimes with offers of help and Ann will gladly go walking with her but Georgie won’t. He on the other hand will walk with Anne Molteno
                        and Ann won’t. They are obstinate kids. Ann has developed a very fertile imagination.
                        She has probably been looking at too many of those nice women’s magazines you
                        sent. A few days ago she said, “You are sick Mummy, but Ann’s got another Mummy.
                        She’s not sick, and my other mummy (very smugly) has lovely golden hair”. This
                        morning’ not ten minutes after I had dressed her, she came in with her frock wet and
                        muddy. I said in exasperation, “Oh Ann, you are naughty.” To which she instantly
                        returned, “My other Mummy doesn’t think I am naughty. She thinks I am very nice.” It
                        strikes me I shall have to get better soon so that I can be gay once more and compete
                        with that phantom golden haired paragon.

                        We had a very heavy storm over the farm last week. There was heavy rain with
                        hail which stripped some of the coffee trees and the Mchewe River flooded and the
                        water swept through the lower part of the shamba. After the water had receded George
                        picked up a fine young trout which had been stranded. This was one of some he had
                        put into the river when Georgie was a few months old.

                        The trials of a coffee farmer are legion. We now have a plague of snails. They
                        ring bark the young trees and leave trails of slime on the glossy leaves. All the ring
                        barked trees will have to be cut right back and this is heartbreaking as they are bearing
                        berries for the first time. The snails are collected by native children, piled upon the
                        ground and bashed to a pulp which gives off a sickening stench. I am sorry for the local
                        Africans. Locusts ate up their maize and now they are losing their bean crop to the snails.

                        Lots of love, Eleanor

                        #6229
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Gretton Tailoresses of Swadlincote and the Single Journalist Boot Maker Next Door

                          The Purdy’s, Housley’s and Marshall’s are my mothers fathers side of the family.  The Warrens, Grettons and Staleys are from my mothers mothers side.

                          I decided to add all the siblings to the Gretton side of the family, in search of some foundation to a couple of family anecdotes.  My grandmother, Nora Marshall, whose mother was Florence Nightingale Gretton, used to mention that our Gretton side of the family were related to the Burton Upon Trent Grettons of Bass, Ratcliff and Gretton, the brewery.  She also said they were related to Lord Gretton of Stableford Park in Leicestershire.  When she was a child, she said parcels of nice clothes were sent to them by relatives.

                          Bass Ratcliffe and Gretton

                           

                          It should be noted however that Baron Gretton is a title in the Peerage of the United Kingdom, and was created in 1944 for the brewer and Conservative politician John Gretton. He was head of the brewery firm of Bass, Ratcliff & Gretton Ltd of Burton upon Trent. So they were not members of the Peerage at the time of this story.

                          What I found was unexpected.

                          My great great grandfather Richard Gretton 1833-1898, a baker in Swadlincote, didn’t have any brothers, but he did have a couple of sisters.

                          One of them, Frances, born 1831, never married, but had four children. She stayed in the family home, and named her children Gretton. In 1841 and 1851 she’s living with parents and siblings. In 1861 she is still living with parents and now on the census she has four children all named Gretton listed as grandchildren of her father.
                          In 1871, her mother having died in 1866, she’s still living with her father William Gretton, Frances is now 40, and her son William 19 and daughter Jane 15 live there.
                          By the time she is 50 in 1881 and her parents have died she’s head of the house with 5 children all called Gretton, including her daughter Jane Gretton aged 24.

                          Twenty five year old Robert Staley is listed on the census transcription as living in the same household, but when viewing the census image it becomes clear that he lived next door, on his own and was a bootmaker, and on the other side, his parents Benjamin and Sarah Staley lived at the Prince of Wales pub with two other siblings.

                          Who was fathering all these Gretton children?

                          It seems that Jane did the same thing as her mother: she stayed at home and had three children, all with the name Gretton.  Jane Gretton named her son, born in 1878, Michael William Staley Gretton, which would suggest that Staley was the name of the father of the child/children of Jane Gretton.

                          The father of Frances Gretton’s four children is not known, and there is no father on the birth registers, although they were all baptized.

                          I found a photo of Jane Gretton on a family tree on an ancestry site, so I contacted the tree owner hoping that she had some more information, but she said no, none of the older family members would explain when asked about it.  Jane later married Tom Penn, and Jane Gretton’s children are listed on census as Tom Penn’s stepchildren.

                          Jane Gretton Penn

                           

                          It seems that Robert Staley (who may or may not be the father of Jane’s children) never married. In 1891 Robert is 35, single, living with widowed mother Sarah in Swadlincote. Sarah is living on own means and Robert has no occupation. On the 1901 census Robert is an unmarried 45 year old journalist and author, living with his widowed mother Sarah Staley aged 79, in Swadlincote.

                          There are at least three Staley  Warren marriages in the family, and at least one Gretton Staley marriage.

                          There is a possibility that the father of Frances’s children could be a Gretton, but impossible to know for sure. William Gretton was a tailor, and several of his children and grandchildren were tailoresses.  The Gretton family who later bought Stableford Park lived not too far away, and appear to be well off with a dozen members of live in staff on the census.   Did our Gretton’s the tailors make their clothes? Is that where the parcels of nice clothes came from?

                          Perhaps we’ll find a family connection to the brewery Grettons, or find the family connection was an unofficial one, or that the connection is further back.

                          I suppose luckily, this isn’t my direct line but an exploration of an offshoot, so the question of paternity is merely a matter of curiosity.  It is a curious thing, those Gretton tailors of Church Gresley near Burton upon Trent, and there are questions remaining.

                          #6187
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Aunt Idle:

                            You can’t blame me for not updating my diary because bugger all has happened all year.  Borders closed, no tourists allowed in.  How are bespoke bijou boutique establishments like ours supposed to survive?  But we’re still here. Somehow we’ve managed to keep the wolf from the door, but only just barely.  I get a bit muddled up these days and can’t remember the dates. Sometimes I find myself living in the past for weeks on end: things change so little around her that it’s easy to do. But what does it matter anyway?

                            Mater went into a sulk the likes of which I hope never to see again, when her 100th birthday party was cancelled. I thought she might give up the will to live, but oh no. She’s determined now to have a 110th birthday party now.  She says the bloody pandemic ought to be over by then.  I hope she’s right. She changes her health food and exercise regimes as often as she changes her knickers. Well more often than that, probably, she doesn’t bother much with personal hygiene.  She says the germs keep her immune system in good shape.  I think the smell of her would keep any plague ridden body well away from her, but whatever works, I always say.  At least she isn’t sulking anymore, she’s grimly stoic now and tediously determined to outlive me.

                            I had some worrying news through the telepathic grapevine about the twins and Pan, they’d gotten into the clutches of a strange cult over there.  I’ve got a feeling they weren’t really sucked into it though, I think they needed to use it as a cover, or to keep themselves safe.  I say cult but it was huge, took over the entire country and even started spreading to other countries. As if the pandemic wasn’t enough to deal with.  I knew they shouldn’t have gone there.  There’s been a peculiar blockage with the telepathic messages for ages now.  It’s a worry, but what can I do.   I keep sending them messages, but get nothing in return.

                            Ah, well. We carry on as best we can. What I wouldn’t give for an unexpected visitor to brighten things up a bit. Fat chance of that.

                            #6186

                            Will didn’t like unexpected visitors. What kind of people turned up unannounced nowadays? He was tempted to ignore the knocking but then it is the not knowing that’s the killer. And what if someone gets it in their head to nose around the property?

                            “Yep?” he said opening the door. The pair of them were starting off down the front steps as though they meant to go exploring. He’d been right to answer.

                            “Oh, you are here!” said the girl, turning towards him with a bright smile. “Sorry to just turn up like this …”

                            Will gave her a curt nod and she faltered a little.

                            “Uh, my name is Clara and this is my grandfather, Bob, and we are hoping you can help us … “

                            The old fellow with her, Bob, was staring hard at Will. He looked familiar but Will couldn’t quite place him … he wasn’t local. And he certainly didn’t recognise the girl—very pretty; he would definitely have remembered her.

                            “Have we met somewhere, Bob?” Will asked.

                            #6081
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              Aunt Idle:

                              I’ll admit Mater did well with the get back into shape programme, despite my skepticism.  She did hone her muscles a bit, but she was still harping on about wanting plastic surgery.  I probably shouldn’t have asked her if she was showing off her biceps or her bingo wings the other day, because that started her off again. I tried to make it up by complimenting her thigh muscles, but spoiled it by saying it was a shame the skin hung down past her kneecaps. Bert said maybe she could hold the skin up with some suspenders and made me spit my eucalyptus tea out and nearly choke to death. Mater was all set to take offence until she saw me choking, and then she started laughing too. I’m smiling remembering it, because we all saw the funny side then and couldn’t stop laughing for ages. God knows we needed a good laugh.

                              I’d had another one of those telepathic chats with Corrie the day before. If I’d known those silly girls were going to navigate their way here via that route I’d have said something, but I never thought they’d be so daft.  There’s me envisioning a pleasant drift through the Mediterranean, and an unexpected sail across an immense shallow lake that had appeared in the middle east with crystal clear waters and a sandy bottom (I could picture it all, I tell you) and then an invitingly tropical trip along the Indian coast with ports of call at virgin new coastlines  ~ but no, they’d gone the other way.  Across the Atlantic. And now they were fighting off bandits every step of the way and having to go miles out of their way to avoid plague ridden slums.  They hadn’t even made their way past the eastern seaboard yet, despite it being considerably narrower now.

                              They lost Pan for days in one of those half submerged coastal cities, rife with lawless floating shanties.  I hope my impressions are wrong, I do really, but it seemed like he’d been kidnapped for a barbecue.  Tender and juicy.

                              His ability to stay submerged under the water for so long saved him, that and Corrie’s ability to stay in telepathic contact with him.

                              They left the coastline and headed south after that and didn’t head back towards land for awhile but when they did, they found the lagoons and inlets were infested with alligators and some kind of water pig. Not sure if I picked that up right, but seems like the hogs had escaped from the farms during the Great Floods and taken to the water. Pan was forbidden to waterlark in these waters and had to stay confined to the raft.

                              I don’t know if they’ll get here in time for Mater’s birthday. Might be my hundredth birthday by the time they get here at this rate.

                              #5985
                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                Lucinda had all but forgotten about the mysterious dolls, what with the global events dominating everyone’s thoughts. It was hard to focus on anything else, and even Helper Effy wasn’t pushing her too much to keep up with her writing.

                                When her friend Dillie sent her the first photograph of a doll hanging on a tree in the Michigan forest, she’d found it amusing, of course, but had thought no more about it. It was always fun to find unexpected things in random places, but the significance of it being a doll had escaped her notice.

                                When Dillie sent a photo of another doll hanging on a tree by a woodland trail a few days later, the penny dropped. Dolls! What were they doing in Michigan? Were there more dolls in those woods?

                                Dillie had been tempted to take the dolls home with her, but hesitated. There was something strange about them and she intuitively felt she should leave them where they were.

                                Lucinda wondered what to do. Should she go to Michigan? Ask her friend to go back and fetch the dolls and send them to her?  Wait and see if Dillie found any more?

                                The dolls looked strangely pristine, as if they’d only recently been hung there. Who had done that, and why?

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