David Charles 3

We left him, newly married and returning to India, his new bride following shortly behind him, for he was working as a manager on a tea estate: Glenburn in Darjeeling. Home was a bungalow, a traditional Indian building, in the foothills of the Himalayas with views out to Anapurna. Life was comfortable and busy for him – he had his work, he enjoyed hunting (later this horrified him) and he liked the ex-pat society that still abounded up there. My mother hated it but more of that when it’s her turn! They were there for nearly four years during which time I arrived, the largest baby ever born in the nursing home! Here I am aged 6 months with Pa. Extras show the bungalow and my ayah, Kanchi.


When I was nearly three we returned home to England, living first in Suffolk then settling in a small village in Essex where we remained for twenty years. Pa worked for Shell, as an area manager, a job I suspect procured for him by his father-in-law and not one he ever liked, but it paid the bills.

I have been very lucky to have him as my Pa. In many ways he was a very traditional father – he was the breadwinner and went out to work, and my mother was in charge of the house and the children. He earned the money, mowed the lawn, polished our shoes, kicked the odd football around, drove us around on a Sunday – all things expected of the time. But – he watched us grow with quiet amusement, his delight and pride always evident. I really don’t remember him ever telling me off, ever raising his voice, ever saying anything mean to anyone.  Actually there was one person he never had a good word for – Princess Margaret! Apparently she had once been late to inspect the troops (he kept in contact with the Gurkhas and remained in the TA) and kept them waiting for hours in the cold. Pa was unimpressed. Punctuality was insisted upon and as were good manners but other that you could get away with quite a lot! He was patient, good humoured with the most dreadful sense of humour, very corny and usually totally unpc – think Carry On films. His tolerance and good humour continued even when later as a succession of lanky long-haired youths filled up his house. There was gentle teasing about the yetis and their dreadful music.
He never came on holiday with us but he would always go up to Scotland to see his parents on the unGlorious Twelfth and return with some poor pheasant, a sprig of heather in the bonnet of his car and some Edinburgh Rock for us. Later he gave up shooting birds too, he had an epiphany and questioned why if he loved them so much he shot them. And he did love birds, a bit of a twitcher on the quiet.
His attitude was laissez faire. He was in favour of the quiet life. The best thing he ever told me and my brother was whatever we chose to do in life, he would support us. And this he did. I don’t think we followed the career paths he would have chosen but he supported us in every way he could, offered advice but never criticism, and was a warm and solid presence throughout.
I had a very middle class, very privileged childhood. I thought it ordinary but maybe not. Freedom to roam, scrump apples, build dens, scrape knee, read under bed clothes, go out with unsuitable blokes and absolutely be myself, knowing that I was much loved. You can’t ask for more than that.
 
And today is Nollaig na mban -- Women’s Little Christmas. It’s meant to be a special day for women after all the hard work of the Christmas period. The men do the chores and then the women go out together and cause havoc! Special meals and entertainment are laid on but we are going off to Durrus (together!) to see a comedy duo Eileen and Marilyn in cabaret!