My father retired in 1918, but during the first years of the war was in the Reserve Territorial Forces in Hong Kong, in addition to being Censor of Telegrams.

In early 1918 my mother and I sailed for Australia, on my father's retirement, to join my brothers. We took the route going past the the end of the Philippine Island chain and were called up on deck to see the island off Zamboanga. This was a beautiful sight at sunrise, with the mountains of the island outlined in black against a background of golden clouds, which were reflected in the calm waters of the ocean. A small canoe, manned by fuzzy headed natives, wended its way across the waters and the Captain of our steamer told us that head hunters9 still lived in the mountains, making it highly dangerous for any foreigners to attempt to penetrate far inland. The son of the steamship company owner was on board, travelling for his health, so this made the voyage most interesting for all the passengers, as the ship passed through the Spice Islands and so many spots of much beauty were pointed out to us as we sailed along, one of which was an active volcano [whose name is unknown to me] from which rose a huge column of grey smoke. The ship continued on to Darwin, through the Tores Strait and the outside of the Great Barrier Reef to Sydney, and then Melbourne, from where my mother and I took the night train to Adelaide, our final destination. We lived at 45 Brougham Place with my brothers, until they went overseas to the war. I was sent to the only English school I ever attended; St. Dominicks Catholic School, run by nuns. There the writer was baptised and confirmed into the Catholic Church, already having been received into the Church of England at birth, in Hong Kong. My father, who was not a practising Catholic, had changes of conscience and decided on this change of religion. Incidentally, the time spent in Australia was the only period in which we had no servants. My mother used to cope, however, somehow.

My mother and I had not been in Adelaide long before I became ill. Several times I was found sleep walking and showed bad fits of temper for no reason and always seemed to be tired. Finally my mother took me to a child specialist who, after thorough examination, said to my mother "You would have fits of temper if one of your legs was three quarters of an inch longer than the other and you also had incipient curvature of the spine !". I was sent to another specialist, a Dr.Bevalaqua, who kept a clinic for curing such afflictions as mine. For about a week or more I was only allowed to sleep on a hard plank on my back, with legs encased in long supports from ankle to knee. Every day there seemed to be hours of painful exercises for the back and legs, also for ten minutes or as long as I could stand it, I was made to hang by the hands from a steel bar in order to stretch the spine. When I was finally released from the clinic it was several weeks before I could attend school again and the exercises and uncomfortable leg supports had to be continued for further weeks at home. Also I was given breast stroke swimming lessons which I enjoyed, off, the beautiful Australian beaches near Adelaide, to strengthen the muscles generally. All this paid off since, when they finally measured my legs with a tape measure, they were exactly even in length and the sleep walking and fits of temper ceased. But I had to wear, to my embarrassment, special supportive boots with Thomas heels for years until I was about eighteen. I looked with envy at my contempories, in their smart and fashionable footwear.

My father, unhappily for him, had taken a trip through Siberia, while sending my mother and myself to Australia, intending to join us later. Both my brothers were killed in the war before he reached Australia and he, himself just escaped the Bolshevik Revolution by obtaining the last Pullman train out of Russia, due to cancellation of a berth. After my father's arrival in Adelaide we continued on for a while and, at the end of the war, we sailed for England and France, where my father had been offered the post of Translator at the University of Grenoble.

The voyage to the UK was a rough one and the
accommodation on the one class troopship "S~, Arconuis" ~f the Blue Funnel Line
was not very good. In fact, my father had difficulty obtaining cabins on her since travelling facilities were somewhat scarce after the war. The voyage took five weeks and we ran into a blizzard while rounding the Cape of Good Hope. This was a terrifying experience. The chairs had to be lashed to the decks and the huge waves seemed to loom above the ship as she listed sideways into the troughs and such was the angle, it seemed as though she would never surmount the following tower of water which always appeared to be about to swamp the decks completely. It was so bad that hardly a soul was seen in the dining room at meal times and in spite of the 'fiddles' on the tables, crockery and cutlery were constantly falling to the floor. However, there were two ports of call that gave everyone some relief; Durban, where we landed and took tours around the town in rickshaws drawn by huge and spectacularly dressed Zulus in feathered headresses, their magnificent torsos exposed to the burning sun, while short grass skirts covered their lower limbs to the knee. Many necklaces hung around their necks, bracelets and rings of grass and brass adorned arms and ankles. Their feet were bare and altogether, they presented a handsome but somewhat fearsome sight.

The other port of call was Cape Town, where we also landed and were driven to the Rhodes Monument and around the town, etc. Table Mountain, with its cloth of white cloud was a most impressive sight, viewed from the harbour as our ship steamed in. There are also vivid memories during our stay in port of the coolies carrying loads of coal up the gangway from the wharf at night, the scene lit by flares lining the gangway. The noise, dust and smell of the coal was quite disturbing as the operation lasted all night, and apart from this, all port holes had to be closed so that the heat alone was quite insufferable and sleep completely impossible. There were many events got up by the passengers to alleviate the boredom of a five week sea voyage; concerts, fancy dress balls, quoits, deck tennis, etc., and of course, there was always bridge, poker and other indoor games. A lady descendant of Halley, discoverer of the comet, won the prize at the fancy dress ball, much to the annoyance of an army colonel and his wife, who came as Queen Elizabeth and the Earl of Essex! The winner wore a simple, beautifully cut black evening gown spangled here and there with gold stars and with the comet done in glittering gold spangles, stretched across the front of her gown. A small crescent silver moon rested on her black hair.

The voyage finally came to an end in Liverpool, where we stayed for two days. These were not pleasant; it poured in torrents the whole time and was miserably cold. From Liverpool my father went to France to prepare the way for my mother and myself. In the meantime she, my mother and I stayed with the Grandparents Ough in Torquay at Elsinore Lodge and I was sent to the French Convent, the Knoll, to start learning French. In due course we went over to France,to join my father in Paris - then it was on to Grenoble, where the writer was put to school for five and a half years at the Lycee de Jeunes Filles. We lived, at first, in the Pension de Famille in the Rue Voltaire, until we obtained a large apartment on the second

floor, just opposite the Pension. There were two bedrooms, a huge study, a drawing room with ornate marble fireplace, a big, gloomy dining room and an enormous kitchen with old fashioned coal stove and high cupboards. The bathroom and toilet were at the end of a short passage leading from the kitchen. The flat was fully furnished with Louis XV style chairs, sofas and a piano in the sitting room, with elaborate brocaded curtains at the long windows facing the street. The bedrooms were also elaborately fitted out with huge clothes closets and a dressing room between the main bedroom and the sitting room. Beyond the bedrooms and also facing the street, was my father's study, opulently furnished with heavily carved blackwood desk, large leather chairs, ruby red velvet curtains and of course, bookcases which lined the walls. The apartment was 'L' shaped and all the above rooms faced the street except the dining room, kitchen and bathroom, which led from the lounge and overlooked the air shaft, surrounded by other apartments and the entrance yard below. There was no view and it was a somewhat gloomy dwelling place, but comfortably appointed.

We had a femme de menage, who came in daily to help. Her name was Madame Gautier and she wore a bonnet with jingling black jet beads. A picture of her comes to mind polishing the beautiful wood floors of the apartment with two felts, which she manipulated back and forth under her feet, clad in shiny button boots. She came every day except Saturdays and Sundays.

School hours were from 8 a.m., with a break around 10:30 a.m, when pupils played various games and munched delicious crisp bread rolls and slabs of unsweetened chocolate and fruit juice. A breakfast consisting of gorgeous hot cafe au lait and rolls was eaten at home before going to classes. Break lasted about fifteen minutes, then back to school until 1 p.m. Then home for lunch and return to classes, but not every afternoon, until about 3 to 4 p.m. with piles of homework. Tennis and other sports could be played at other centres after school hours and there was also swimming to be had at public indoor pools. The education was excellent and included literature, arithmetic, algebra, geometry, history, geography, biology and several languages, such as English, Italian and German - mine was Italian! If one was going in for the Baccalaureate of Latin Languages, equivalent to Matriculation in those days, Latin was required as an extra subject. In the case of taking Baccalaureat Sciences Langues, it was not necessary. The writer studied Latin, but it was pretty tough going. If one did well, one was presented with a Tableau d'Honneur with one's report at the end of term, or sometimes just a Tableau de Satisfaction. These were written on small squares of cream coloured parchment. Thursday was the day off school and one went on Saturday mornings 'till about midday or slightly later. Incidentally, while still at school at the age of fifteen, the brother of a friend of the writer, Army Officer Paul Donnadian, asked my father for my hand in marriage! Needless to say, my father refused and I did not become the mistress of the Donnadian Family Chateau I!

Once a month it was customary to go to Confession on either Friday or Saturday evenings, so that one could take Communion on the Sunday morning at 8 a.m. There was nothing more dreary, on a dull cold winter evening, than having to go to Confession in the huge, dimly lit and shadowy church with its one or two occupants awaiting their turn outside the Confessional Box, inside which sat the priest behind his fusty dark curtain. It seemed as though every shadow had some sort of ghost ready to spring out at any moment. If it wasn't Communion Service on a Sunday, then it was Mass at 11 a.m. with my father, who never went to Communion himself, but only took me. Even in those days of my early youth the disrespect shown by the caretakers of the church during Mass was appalling. My father always chose to sit on the movable chairs, which were placed in the side aisles of the church, rather than in the central nave, in front of the main alter. The choir was on an enclosed balcony at the back of the central nave and was not visible from below. The noise and clatter caused by disrespectful shifting of the chairs around the area where my father and myself were seated by, believe it or not, disagreeable old femmes de menage, who were actually cleaning the tiled floors of the church and dusting the seats was quite appalling, and all while Mass was being held by the priest at the main alt~r II

Saturday afternoons usually meant visiting friends, going for walks, maybe a game of tennis on the public courts in Les Jardins du Dauphin; a beautiful spot with gardens and tennis courts built into the rocky sides of the hill, rising above the town itself. On Thursday and Saturday afternoons there would often be a good film to attend at the Silent Cinema. Also, my father always took a season ticket for the opera, and in this way we were able to enjoy 'Carmen', 'La Tosca', some of Wagner's compositions, and also 'Werther', 'Faust', 'Thais', 'Aida', La Boheme', 'Manon', etc. This was all part of my education. We also went to plays, such as 'Le Bourgois Gentilhomme', 'La Malade Imagimaire' by Moliere, plus tragedies by Corneille and Racine, etc.

During school holidays my father used to take me for long tramps, notably to the Convent or Monastery of La Chatreuse, where the monks made their famous Chatreuse Liqueur. While staying, during our usual summer holidays, at Uriage we went on climbs to the Croix de Belladonn.., and various shorter trips. On the former climb we stayed overnight at the mountain hut, leaving early the following morning to see the sunrise over the snow capped alps, a most awe inspiring and magnificent spectacle. At one stage the guides used ice axes to cut steps and we were roped together to cross the glacier. The whole trip was fascinating and the scenery wonderful and varied; the lush, pine forested valley of La Pra, watered by murmuring streams, contrasted sharply with the glittering snow clad slopes of the higher hills. We also made friends with various foreign tourists and visitors from England and South Africal0 , all of which made our vacations at St Martin d'Uriage most enjoyable. My father also took us on two notable trips by train from Grenoble 10 Varsity students from Oxford and Cambridge with whom my father had made contact due to his post at
Grenoble University.to the Cote d' Azur and Marseille, down through the Rhone Valley. We broke the journey at such towns as Valence, Carpentras, Aries, Nimes, Fontaine de Vaucluse, also visiting Le Moulin de Daudet, amongst other places of interest. We attended a circus in Marseille, where we wandered through a French Colonial Exhibition which was quite fascinating, with its mysterious little booths where dark skinned Moroccans or Tunisiens could be seen working on their brass wares in the gloomy, richly appointed interiors. Here there were also stalls of sweetmeats and Arab coffee to refresh the weary sightseer - this coffee was very thick and sweet.
Other towns of interest were Monpellier, Nlmes with its Roman Amphitheatre and Avignon with its famous bridge and Palais des Papes. We also went down as far as Les Camarques and saw several herds of bulls, especially bred for the bull fights. Martigues, the Venice of southern France, was a fascinating town and very picturesque, while Saintes Maries de la Mer presented a picture of high surrounding fortress like walls, as did the famous old citadel of Carcassonne, from whose ancient battlements one could see the Pyrenees - dividing line between France and Spain. These were memorable trips and the scenery quite breathtaking. It is impossible here, to give all the details, but more regarding Provence and Langdoc can be gathered from books and photo albums in our library. Other cities also come to mind; Tarascon, St Remy, Les Baux, Orange, Toulon, Hyeres, St Tropez, Frejus, Cannes, Antibes and Grasse. Monaco too, with its Casino, where the writer was not allowed entry for being under age - fourteen only!

When we were in Paris, before going to Grenoble, a visit was paid by horse and trap to the little town of Albert, where the statue of the Virgin Mary still hung out from the dome of the ruined church, destroyed during the war. Nearby lay the battleground of the Somme, where brother Frank was killed and lies buried in the war cemetery.

Another holiday was spent at Uez, up in the Alps, where crocuses were growing through the snow. It was here that my father came down with pneumonia and the nearest doctor came from a neighbouring township and administered 'Ventouse' ; sucking cups on back and chest, which was one of the cures of those days. The doctor, a nice young man, had to travel over dangerous mountain roads on his motor bike to reach us. My father was taken back to Grenoble by special ambulance and made a good recovery. Once, when on the train, going to St Martin d'Uriage on our usual summer vacation, the engine caught fire! My father had his nose buried in the newspaper and, unaware of what had happened, wanted to know what everyone was so excited about? No harm was done however, except for the resulting delay in waiting for another train to pick us up.

After my father's death in 1924, my mother and I decided to go to Paris and spend a few weeks there before going over to England. The writer attended, out of curiosity mostly, some live model classes on the Left Bank in the Latin Quarter, which proved quite an interesting eye opener in many ways. We visited museums, churches, art galleries and theatres, etc. 'ad nauseum' during this time, but looked back upon it with interesting memories in the years to come. We stayed in a pleasant hotel on the Right Bank. There were exciting shopping expeditions to the big fashion stores and memories return of some lovely clothes being purchased, including evening gowns, shoes and smart garments for daytime wear. Also, there were trips to Versailles and Fontainbleu. Altogether, Paris seemed truly to be 'La
Ville ,9-e'}a'Lumiere.
My mother and I were in Paris for several months, finally returning to Hastings, in England where we rented rooms with a Mrs Oddy. This lady was recommended by Great Aunt Amy, who lived in Hastings with husband Charlie White. Eventually my mother found a lovely top storey flat with a fine view not far from Aunt Amy, so the writer was then sent to Mrs Hosters Secretarial College in London for a year, boarding at a hostel called Ingram House during that time. It was a good life, marked by nice friends made at the college; Leslie Coad for one, with whom I went to spend weekends in Farnham, attending many parties, cines and theatres. Another friend invited me to Warwickshire, and my mother and I also visited Oxford and Cambridge, where we spent a few days. On coming out of college and not obtaining a job in London, we spent several months on the Cote d' Azur, notably Nice, taking trips along the coast to Cannes and other towns. One event that comes vividly to mind - an English afternoon tea enjoyed in a restaurant along the coast road, this being built out on the edge of a clift with glorious views of the sea below.

We also attended many operas; Thais, Aida, etc. at the Opera House in Nice - these were absolutely first class and beautifully exciting. We also met some charming people at the hotel who chaperoned me to dances, notably the festivities of the Mardi Gras and other balls and theatres and Tes Dan~ants at the Casino. An old acquaintance of my mother, Mrs Tutcher, joined us there for a while and these indeed were halcyon days of nostalgic memory before one found out what the
world was really like!

On our return to England we rented the same flat as before and I got the job of secretary to Sir Edwin Cooper, architect for Lloyds and the Port of London Authority. I stayed with Aunt Eleanor [supposedly my chaperon] at Woodhatch Guest House in Streatham. This establishment was kept by a Miss Roberts, a very superior lady and was fun as most of the guests were permanent and one or two quite interesting to note; an elderly lady who had lived in England most of her life and the nephew of one of Aunt Eleanor's friends, the Knight's. He was a very nice boy indeed, by name Ken Davidson and worked for a bank to sustain his mother and sister. The other boarders were not very impressive! The writer used to go home to Hastings at weekends and life at Woodhatch proved good.

Aunt Eleanor took a season ticket at the Old Vic Theatre to see many of Shakespeare's plays and we also saw the "Desert Song" and often went to the Cine, other musicals and the variety theatre at the Colosseum. We also went to a performance by George Robey, the well known comedian. Sir Edwin Cooper also got a pass for the writer to Wimbledon for the international tennis tournaments, presided over by Queen Mary and King George V, and in which Suzanne Longlan and Borrotra were playing. In addition to this, an invitation to the inauguration of Lloyds, of which Sir Edwin was the architect, and which was also opened by the King and Queen. Those were carefree times and everyone was very kind to me, and the world seemed a happier place. Finally anaemia, caused by the wretched London winter, forced me to give up the job with Sir Edwin and then, to our surprise, my mother's brother, Sydney Ough and his wife Florence, invited me to visit them in Mexico.

I went over on the 'Rio Bravo' in 1928, calling at Habana and landing in Vera Cruz, Mexico where Walter and Sydney my cousins, met me. After a night at Terminal in Vera Cruz we went up to Mexico City by the famous rail route installed by the British, and from there to Pachuca where my uncle was manager of the Maravillas Silver Mining Company. Vera Cruz is a typically cosmopolitan port, very tropical and with side walk open air cafes where the different kinds of ice creams are noted for their excellent taste. The beaches are not as nice as the Pacific side and there are quite frequent shark scares!

Here a note is needed to explain that these "Recollections" do not set out to be a full life history, but that photo albums, which date from Hong Kong and Mexico early days right up to the present, contain a pretty good annotated record of the Ough Dealy saga. Suffice it to say that after several months had passed with the relatives, Walter, my cousin and I fell in love and became engaged. My mother came out from England and we lived in a very nice rented flat in Mexico City, while I taught English at the English School, run by Mr & Mrs Porteous. Time passed quickly, with many good times at various night clubs, variety shows, parties, holidaying in Cuernavaca and picnics, etc. Finally we got married in Christchurch Cathedral in Mexico City on July 4th, 1931, after which my mother returned to England.

Our honeymoon was spent in Cuernavaca and then we came back to Pachuca and lived for a few months in a rented house, since we could not get into a company house. Walter was Shift Boss at that time, working for the British Company of Santa Gertrudis. We finally moved to a company house in the Hacienda of Guadalupe and while living there, Martin and Charmian were born in 1934 and 1935 at the British Cowdray Hospital in Mexico City. These were good years with the children, although we nearly lost Charmian at only five months through pneumonia. Our house was an upstairs one and one had ample help since servants were always available and we had a cook, housemaid and nursemaid to do all the chores. Being in the upper flat, we did not have to worry about a gardenerand had good views over the surrounding outskirts of the town. It was not long after the birth of the children that the British Company of Santa Gertrudis shut down and taken over by the Cooperativa. Walter was offered the job of Assistant Mill Superintendent at San Rafael, a company run by a combined French and German management. This latter place was situated up in the hills above Pachuca, although not as high as Real del Monte, which belonged to the third largest silver mining outfit run by the Americans in Mexico, of which more of this company later.

Returning to San Rafael - we were given a house outside the compound where the bosses were accommodated, since no other living quarters were available at that time. It was rather a ramshackle old Mexican style building, but had a nice garden and lovely views. Rats infested the space between ceilings and roof and one night a rat was spotted peering down through the ventilator hole of the canvas ceiling. When a trap was set above to catch the same, the trap went off with the rat inside it and the whole lot fell with a thump on Walter's bed! We were only in San Rafael for about thirteen months when there was a terrible accident down the mines and the company was forced to close down! This was a shock, but I personally, was glad to leave the house, which didn't hold very pleasant memories since thieves had broken in one night and taken a lot of our wedding gifts! Also I had to drive the children down to the kindergarten school in Pachuca town run by a friend of ours, Lilian Hosking with her sister. Since San Rafael was in the hills above the town, this meant battling with a steep, somewhat precipitous unsealed road three times a week! Incidentally, it was while passing through San Lunes on our way down to visit Walter's mother on a Sunday morning, that the news of the outbreak of World War II came blaring out over the village radios!

So, after San Rafael closed down we were without a job, with an unexpected, but welcome gift of USA $200 in the bank as a parting handout from a company too bankrupt to offer a larger sum, two small children and a few sticks of personal furniture saved from the wreck! Walter's mother offered us asylum while Walter looked for a job - I don't know what we would have done without her help, kind soul. It was six weeks before Walter was lucky enough to get work as Assistant Mill Superintendent at the mill of Los Azules, an outfit belonging to the same company in San Rafael, but up north in Chihuahua. He had to go up in our car first, while I stayed with the children at Mrs Ough's until he could send for us. The tail end of a bad hurricane hit the country just after he left Pachuca, about which we knew nothing, until a neighbour brought the news late one night. We'd heard nothing from Walter, who had been caught by it shortly after leaving Pachuca, so of course, we were worried to death. We finally got news through from him and apparently, after a nightmarish journey, he had finally arrived in Los Azules.

At long last we were able to join him. The children and I went up on the night train to Parral, where Walter met us and we then arrived at Los Azules and the house assigned to us. Need I say that the whole setup was quite ghastly ! it was to
be expected. The camp itself was situated in the mountains and the surrounding scenery was very beautiful. The bosses houses were not too bad and built right away from the village where the workers lived, but the one we were given was a sort of temporary accommodation, as none other was available for a week or so. It had been given a so called 'brush up' - walls whitewashed with smears of paint splashed on the wooden floors, some quite good furniture, an enormous kitchen like a dungeon, and was surrounded by an enclosed verandah, which at least gave a bit of a view over the wooded hillside. We took all our meals at the company mess and huge cans of fresh water had to be brought up everyday since the tap water was full of, principally, copper sulphate, which eroded the enamel of the bath, etc. and burnt the skin. This situation applied to all the bosses houses, even the manager's!

At first I hired a servant, but the natives were quite horrible, with no respect for any employers, whom they regarded as equals! The so called 'maid' who came lasted with me for three days. She came when she felt like it, used my perfume, demanded coffee and free time to rest from the 'hard work', listened to the radio and left the house almost as if no work had been done at an! Things were no better when we finally moved into one of the 'bosses' houses. I gave up any idea of ever getting a cook, or any kind of help, so we ate at the mess and all the laundry had to be sent to the village where it was washed fairly well and returned miraculously intact - I don't remember anything being stolen, which is saying something! Also, in Los Azules I used to teach the children myself, as there was no school.

The village had a very bad reputation and the bosses and their families never went down to it - murders were frequent and it just wasn't safe. Most of the former had brought their own servants with them, so not all the families ate at the mess. The company doctor was a Mexican and the manager was English. We also had Germans, Austrians and Americans. Life was pretty restricted with no
amusements at the camp except a tennis court, no club. As the village was prohibited there remained only walks in the surrounding hills. The nearest towns were Santa Barbara and Parral and the only way to get to them was over appallingly atrocious roads, full of rocks and potholes. All one could say was the scenery was spectacular, with its forests and distant views of soaring mountains. Los Azules
was in Tarumara Indian country. The T~ras are magnificent runners and live
in the Barranco del Cobra.

We were only there for nine months when Walter couldn't stand the setup any longer and applied for a job as Shift Boss back in Pachuca with the third biggest company of Real del Monte, which was run by Americans. The journey back to Pachuca was a long and trying one with two small children. The first part was the worst as, on leaving Los Azules" we got lost in desert like country where the roads were badly marked. However, we finally found our way out and spent the night in Torreon, reaching Valles on the following day to spend the second night and finally arriving in Pachuca on the third day where Walter's mother put us up until we got a company house in the old Santa Gertrudis bosses compound in San Lunes, situated a short distance out of Pachuca itself. This house was built American style and was still very pleasant, although in need of repairs. The surrounding grounds and lawns were lovely. It was while here that we were given the dog Jumbo, a water spaniel who proved a marvellous companion to us all. We brought an old car in which Walter went to work, leaving me the other good one to take the children down to the American School in Pachuca.

After several months we obtained a company house just above the Loreto Mill where Walter worked. It had a marvellous view over the town, but was just behind the high stone wall which divided the mill from the road which ran steeply up the hill from below our house. The noise of the crushers on the mill side was a continuous rumble and, at first, the author of these memoirs hated the place and, in fact, never really became reconciled to it. However, in time one got more or less accustomed to the noise, as one can to most things, but it just didn't do after the lovely setting of San Lunes.

During the following years of the second world war the foreign colony put on many variety shows, plays, concerts, bazaars and dances, etc. to help the war effort and the writer became Secretary of the Women's Auxiliary. The 'war effort' proved a lot of fun and brought out much hidden talent from amongst the Colony members. The children enjoyed the American School and took part in many little plays, Christmas festivities and fancy dress parties organised by the school. Those were good and happy days.

It was during this time that many of our annual holidays were spent down in Acapulco, on the Pacific west coast. I myself, first made my first visit in 1932. In those days it was still unspoilt ; no rudeness from the natives, as yet uncorrupted by the tourists, no huge high rise hotels and the ocean still unpolluted. The beautiful white sandy beaches almost empty and life moved at a slow and tranquil pace. The road from the high plateau down to the coast was still unpaved in parts, obliging one to stay the night in Tasco since the journey took eight hours or more in those days. There were only about three hotels in the place and the island of Roqueta, just off the main land and within easy distance by boat, was a pleasure to visit. The climb to the summit of the island was well worth while to see the lighthouse and the superb surrounding views of open ocean and mainland. One outstanding landmark was the 'Englishman's House', built to stand completely alone on a jutting headland surrounded by thick jungle. The owner had never completed the building since the war intervened and it wasn't finished until much later and then finally sold and swamped by surrounding houses owned by the so called 'rich and famous'. Acapulco was then a small piece of paradise and although very hot, always seemed to have lovely sea breezes to cool it down. The swimming was quite marvellous, the water feeling almost tepid. At night time there was open air

dancing on the Quebrada, which dominated the beautiful ocean below.

The following is a list of holiday destinations between the years 1932 to 1963. ACAPULCO.

Hotel Marta Godin, Quebrada 1932
Hotel Recreo de la Quebrada 1933
Hotel Quinta de la Quebrada 1935
Hotel Cordova 1940
Hotel Cordova... 1941
Hotel Cordova '''''''''''''' 1942
Hotel Cordova. 1943
Hotel Cord ova ..1944
Leslie's House 1956
Henry's House 1957
Leslie's House... ..1958
Hotel Prado Americas 1963
Vera Cruz.
With Syd Ough & Martin, 3 mths 1934
Pension Ortiz 1945

At the time of our first trip to Acapulco there was a colony of almost full blooded black people, probably descendants of the slaves brought over from Africa by the Spaniards and who lived on the outskirts of the town.

As can be seen above, for several successive years we stayed at the Hotel Cordova, on the edge of the Caleta Beach and opposite the little island topped by some tycoon's house, while beyond was the island of Roqueta. On one occasion we came across an old man called Russell who had been a railway man in the States. He had a little boat and would take the children out on the bay in it. Quite a charader, he asked us one day to visit him at his house in Pie de la Cuesta. We went and got a surprise; guided by a rag hung on a stick planted in the underbrush behind the beach we found the 'house', a mere shack with dozens of empty beer bottles stacked in the front yard and Russell himself laid out on his bed, snoring to high heaven and drunk to the world! End of that acquaintance, needless to say!!

At other times we visited Pie de la Cuesta and relaxed in the hammocks for hire, hanging under the palm leaf roofs supported on polfs, while we quenched our thirst with Cokes, beer or whatever, purchased from the nearby owner of the hammocks who kept a little stall of refreshments close by. It was marvellous to just rest in the tropical heat and watch the enormous waves pounding on the almost deserted stretch of long sandy beach. Acapulco really was still unspoilt in those days. It was quite thrilling to sit on our little balcony facing the sea at Cordova, listening to the strains of jazz music wafting out from the nearby, bar of Las Palmas,
just along the beach. Some of the Mexican tunes, such as 'Mi Ifyta Linda' and
'Amor, Amor', etc. still ring with nostalgia in our ears whenever we hear them played today. It was also an impressive sight to see the Mexicans, usually young men with magnificent physiques, make their spectacular dives into the narrow passage between the rocks from thirty metres up on the cliff top, just opposite the dance floor on the Quebrada which flanked the passage on the far side. This was made to appear all the more dramatic as each diver knelt to say his prayer at a little brightly lit shrine of the Virgin Mary, situated to one side of the diving board. The diver then took the breathtaking plunge into the huge wave below, which had to be timed just at the right moment to catch the crest as it roared up the narrow passage. This performance was always done after dark, with huge spotlights focused on the divers as they went down in a swallow dive which made them look like great birds sailing down the side of the cliff.

At other times we would swim around the small island off Caleta Beach and, much to Walter's disgust, the children and I would hang on to him to get a tow when getting tired. The children learnt to swim here and had no fear of the water. Years afterwards, when they came back for holidays from Switzerland and England, etc. they had also learnt to water ski and were experts on both the single and double skis, much to the somewhat startled surprise of their Rule cousins, who thought they knew it all and had not, as yet even mastered the single ski! On another occasion when Martin and Charmian were quite small, we were all seated, one evening, relaxing on the porch in our flat at Cordova Hotel when a rumbling suddenly started out on the water in front of us. It got nearer and louder, the verandah shook, the chairs bounced up and down and the rumble travelled beneath the building and finally ceased. EARTHQUAKE! Our one thought was would there be a huge wave to follow, to carry us off! It was a very unpleasant moment, but nothing further took place, happily for us - but I did not sleep much that night!

To go back a little to one of our earlier visits to Acapulco, before we had children. We stayed at one of the few hotels on the Quebrada and a bad hurricane blew up during one night, roaring around the building and tearing up the palm trees. The rain battered the walls and roof and what with the incessant roar of the wind and the frequent brilliant flashes of lightening, the night was quite terrifying but
Walter slept through it all, quite peacefully! Some of my most vivid memories of Hong Kong was of the typhoons and so all my life I have been terrified of them, and still am !

To end the Mexican saga with a few additional memories of Pachuca. The ladies of Pachuca's foreign colony would often give bridge teas and luncheons. One in particular - Violet Seaver, wife of the Santa Gertrudis Company Assayer, and daughter of an English parson gave, on one occasion, a Bridge Tea. The various playing tables were laid out in the sitting room, notably with packs of cards and what appeared to be delicious acorn shaped chocolates. The writer was put at a table
with American ladies, amongst whom was the wife of the Company Director. The game was proceeding most amicably [no money being involved] when one of the players ate a chocolate from the said bowl. Upon biting into it, she suddenly ejected it into her handkerchief, exclaiming "Well, for lands sakes, these sweets must be out of the Ark! They sure are like stones and taste mouldy! It's pure luck I didn't crack my dentures !". Afternoon tea was finally served and a handsome iced cake, scones, sandwiches and tarts were brought in by the housemaid. Upon
consumption of the white covered scones, the ladies suddenly developed snowy moustachios from what was apparently, the icing sugar topping! Violet then cut the cake and a stream of liquid filling poured slowly out from its centre where it had not finished cooking! Nothing was said by the guests, but their faces expressed only too dearly their inner thoughts! Throughout all these embarrassing
occurrences Violet maintained a calm and collected attitude and did not appear in the least put out. As can be gathered, the lady was not a good housekeeper and usually left everything to the servants - but nothing ever phased her!

Another instance. One Christmas we were invited to the Seaver's for Xmas Dinner. A Dr Hard, a radio ham friend of Joe Seaver and his Mexican wife, were the other guests. The huge turkey was brought to the table and Dr Hard was asked to do the honours and carve it. The first two slices looked beautiful, but those following became pinker and pinker until everyone realised that the bird was, unfortunately not cooked. The disappointed guests had to celebrate Xmas with a joint of cold beef, but Violet carried off the unhappy occurrence with her usual aplomb! At least the pudding proved eatable, although even the brandy refused to light up in this instance. Violet was a rotten housekeeper, but she had a kind heart and meant well.

Those were good and happy days. Came the time however, when the children arrived at the ages of nine and ten and we felt that they should be sent to schools outside of Mexico. England proved unsuitable, as the writer's mother was too old to cope. It was finally decided that I should take them both to Jamaica, where the schools had an excellent reputation. In 1946 Matin went to Jamaica College and Charmian, firstly to St Hilda's in Browns Town, later in 1947 to Mr Fowler's Private School in Kingston and finally, Wolmers Girls School, also in Kingston. In 1952 Martin finished at Jamaica College and went over to Sandhurst in England. In 1954 I took Charmian to the UK also, where she attended Mrs Boyd Bowman's Finishing School in Kent and I finally returned to Mexico in 1955.

We still lived in Casa Nieva, behind the wall surrounding the mill at Loreto and were there until Walter was made Mill General Superintendent at Loreto in 1966, when we moved into Bryans house in Venustiana Caranza, having as neighbours the Heynes. During the years from 1966 to 1971, when we finally came out for good to New Zealand, we went to Mazatlan, Guadelajfra, etc. with Martin when he came out on a visit before getting married in England. In 1958 Charmian came out on a
six month visit during which we went on several trips, including Manzanillo after the hurricane and then one notable journey where we got held up all night at the Papualapan River, the ferry not being able to cross to the opposite side due to the

river being in flood. In the morning the ferry still had not got across and things began to look nasty, so we retraced our journey back the way we had come to Pachuca. This was an unpleasant experience, as apart from the discomfort of trying to sleep in the car in tropical heat and singing mosquitoes, the drivers of perishable foodstuffs became very hostile and when news came that the ferry was actually on its way in the early morning, refused to allow private cars to proceed until they themselves had crossed. It was not worth waiting any longer!

In 1959 Walter and I visited Manzanillo again and then went to England for two months later in that same year, spending Christmas and the New Year there. We flew with Air France, travelling first class on the famous Comet via New York, where my papers became mislaid at the airport before boarding the Comet! We stayed with Minnie, Martin and Helen, then seven months old, in Odiham. They then left for Malaya, where Jane was born in 1960. In 1961 George and Georgette Deakin came out to visit us and we took them to Cuernavaca, Tasco and to see the ceremony of the 'Burning of the Judas' in Real del Monte and the Folklorica performance at the Ballas Artes in Mexico City. In 1962 Charmian came out on a visit and then again in 1963, on her way to New Zealand, where she married Jack in October 1963. Also, in November 1963 Martin, Minnie and family, having left Malaya and attending Charmian's wedding on their return journey, came to stay with us before continuing on to Germany, where Martin was to be stationed with the R.E.M.E. for several months. We met them in Acapulco and together, visited many places in Mexico while they were with us.

Holidays, trips and social events dating from 1964 are as follows :
1964 Walter and I went to Yucatan with Marvel.
1965 Holiday in Oaxaca with Amy. Moved into Bryans house in October.
1966 Feb Trip to Guatemala.
1966 June Entremeses, Cervantinos, Yerma in Guanajuato with Marvel.
1966 October..To Valle del Bravo for a weekend.
1966 Dec ! myself, to New Zealand.
1967 Jan.17th.Mark born in Hamilton, New Zealand.
1967 Feb Walter also to NZ.
1968 Holiday, staying with Marvel in California.
1969 Trip to England, staying with Martin and Minnie in Farringdon.
1970 Holiday in Manzanillo, staying with Everharts at Lake Chapala.
1970 July Kate and Stuart Leggett came to stay with us for two weeks.

In August, 1971 we came out to New Zealand and are still here in 1996, in our second house at 31, Pohutukawa Ave, Howick, Auckland. In 1994 we became Grandparents. Jane, Martin's second daughter had a baby girl, Charlotte Lois, born Feb. 7th. 1994 and then Madeliene, born 13th.Sept. 1995.

These memoirs are merely a brief summery of recollections and can be complemented by photo albums, dating from Hong Kong up to the present day.