I remember well the winding tortuous walk up the hill to St Marks Church. Along the way we would pass some family friends cottages and always received a wave and a smile to cheer us along the climb, if the occupants happened to be in view. One large property housed the Tutts, Holmes and Adleys. In later years the Holmes boys were in school with us. Ernest Holmes was later to get the MC in Burma. Doris Adley was one of the kind nurses who saw me through a bout of Typhoid at the Ripon Hospital when I was thirteen. In those days family life was close and especially on Sundays when Father was at home. Sunday lunch, after the Sunday school service was always a special time. In the evening we would play some games together. I remember one time playing 'Tip Cat' (Goolie dunder the Indians called it) a very popular game; minimal equipment was required; just a short stout stick and a small Bail like piece of wood, but sharpened at each end. The idea was to lift the bail from a shallow groove in the ground and to hit it as far as possible. Boundaries were marked to represent the number of runs and if caught in flight one was declared out. On one occasion the stout stick left my hand while taking a swipe at the bail and it hit Mother a resounding blow on the shin. I thought I had broken her leg and almost curled up in shame. However, after some suffering the patient recovered and the game was resumed. We used to organize our own amusements in those days and various games kept us amused. One of the games we indulged in was 'Marbles' (Indian style). Using the middle finger to project the marble, in order to make a strike, the game was played by propelling a marble into a shallow hole made in the ground at a certain distance from a pre-selected mark. The owner of the marble either in the hole or nearest to it had the privilege of having the first strike at any of the marbles taking part. A strike was rewarded with the marble struck or any number previously decided on by the contestants. Some of us who were quite successful at the game collected a small suit case full of marbles in the season. Marbles were usually made of glass with many designs and beautiful colours. Some were made of stone and they usually came in about three sizes. It was truly amazing how accurate some players would become after a lot of practice. In some parts of the country marble tournaments were held regularly.

Kite flying was a favourite pass time and one of the most enjoyable of games. Let me explain. In India Kites were made from bamboo and paper, not only to fly for fun, but also, more seriously, to engage in battle! I remember going to one of the Bazaars in Old Delhi which, in particular, specialized in making Kites of all shapes and sizes and various colours. The serious kite flyer usually went for the conventional square pattern, with a light bamboo frame and short fish tail. They would use the same colour all the time so that one would know who was flying that particular kite. Those who entered contests always used their regular colour and pattern. We, as youngsters would prefer to fly kites with pretty mixed colours. In the Kite shop we would watch the skilled hands of the kite maker while he made the kite of our choice. These Artificers also made several other items out of paper and bamboo. We usually ordered half a dozen kites at a time and of course also bought the string and a reel to complete the equipment required. The string used was called 'Manga' and was laced with finely ground glass; this made it ready for battle. One needed space sometimes even a roof top and a gentle breeze to hoist and fly the kite. Once in the air one controlled the flight with gentle tugs on the string. Other kites would then appear in the vicinity and battle would commence. The idea was to engage from under the flight of the enemy and then, when the time and position was right, a quick sawing and jerking motion on the string and the 'Manga' would do the rest; the opponents kite string would be severed and his kite would float away, leaving the spectators to chase after it. Whoever caught the loose kite was entitled to keep it or even to sell it back to the owner! Of course ones plans were not always successful and, depending on ones skill and the quality of the 'Manga' one could lose many kites. However, kites were cheap at the time. This was a great game, played by all ages. Kite flying contests were held annually in Delhi and Lucknow, the most famous towns for this pursuit. The adults, of course were usually the champions; sometimes even gambling on the results of a match took place. Many happy hours were spent with kites, admiring their design and colour and the beautiful movements described in the air by a skilled operator.

Cycle Polo. This game required a lot of space. Goals were set up (usually with spare jackets or hats) about a hundred yards apart. Sides were picked, any number could play and there were nc rules! We mounted our bikes and the forward players made for the centre of the field. The ball (a polo ball always) was dropped by the referee. The game or correctly the 'Chukker' commenced as we wealded our mallets or even hockey sticks. We were on good terms with Syces (grooms) who looked after the Polo ponies near our house, next to the racecourse and were able to obtain broken Mallets and balls from them. To return to the game, the ball was struck towards the opponents goal and the forward players gave chase while the defenders placed themselves next to their goal. As I said, there were no rules the only object was to cycle like hell pursuing and striking the ball in order to place, or drive it into the enemies goal. There was always a lot of strike and tussle until the objective could be achieved. Accidents happened, nearly at every game and cycles were withdrawn from the field due to buckled wheels; occasionally a participant would sustain injuries. What an exciting game this was and not for the feint hearted I might add. I remember a chap called Billy Hill, very tall with a mop of red hair and face covered in freckles. This chap nearly always ended the session by having to employ a Tonga (horse drawn carriage) to take him home with his damaged cycle! On some occasions two of us were allowed to exercise the Polo ponies. We would go for a trot across the jungle scrub behind the Racecourse ending with a gallop on the course itself.

Badminton was a regular game for us, usually in the evenings or on a calm night under lighting. If the breeze was too strong we used Quoits. Badminton was very popular in India and was a marvellous way of socializing and so getting to meet people. On occasions we, that is my parents, would throw a 'Bottle party' at our place which would usually involve fifteen to twenty friends. They would all turn up carrying a bottle or two to refresh the soul! Partners were drawn from a hat and mixed doubles would be played. After the winners of the various games were decided the bottles were distributed; everyone got something. It was a most pleasant way of entertaining with tea served on the lawn; some of the male members and I remember also a couple of the ladies in particular, one especially, would play in tournaments with some success. In door Badminton was also played in some halls in Delhi and Simla and the Major tournaments were usually held in one of these. My partner Eddie and I played in one or two tournaments in Simla but got through only three or four rounds.

Tennis was taken up when I was about eleven years old; starting at the YMCA in Delhi under the tutelage and forbearance of an Indian 'Marker'. Small boys were always available to fetch the balls. As I grew older I joined a Club and played fairly regularly during the holidays. On occasions we would be invited to play on private courts. I remember one in particular; the lady of the house was a keen gardener and their court was surrounded with screens up which grew some choice climbing plants. Morning Glory, and the orange flowered Trumpet Vine I remember well. Parties were also held here from time to time. I was also able to play tennis at school on the two courts available. After the War I played regularly at various clubs and parks in India and the UK. However, I gave up the game when in the early years of marriage as it took up too much time. I stuck to the games of shorter periods such as Hockey, Squash, Badminton and Swimming.

Shooting of course was a favourite sport, in the days of the 'Raj'. In these times of the early twenties and thirties shooting was not considered to be a cruel thing to do. There was abundant game to be found within easy reach and pursuing game 'for the pot' was accepted. However, the large scale slaughter that ensued when big parties were organized by various officials in 'high places' was not considered a good thing and was roundly condemned by our circle. I have a large fund of shooting experiences behind me but will relate only one here; I have, in other episodes written about a few.
The Leopard.... The first we heard of the killer was by phone call. Walter's father said that a report had reached (he being the local Shikari who had a name as being a Big game hunter) him at his office that a large Leopard had, in day light, snatched a Goat from near the servants quarters below the Auckland House girls school. There was not time to lose; Walter and I grabbed a couple of his Dad's guns, mounted our horses: we had only just arrived back from a ride around Jakko --- making our way up the hill and covering a couple of miles as fast as the horses could go, we dismounted at the scene of the reported killing and after questioning the servants, and leaving our horses in their charge, we made our way, very very carefully down a steep ravine to try and find the tracks of the beast. Any disturbed bushes or pug marks would be a sign to follow. Some blood and drag marks were evident so we made our way further down this very steep ravine which was rather difficult because of the dense growth of bushes, ferns and grasses; also trees, predominantly Silver Oak, but, also Chestnut and Ash and some other saplings. After over an hour of stealthy searching and finding no kill, we decided to return to our horses. However, the going was very rough and all thoughts of returning the next day was 'not on'. Even night shooting in this wild and dense vegetation was not possible or ever recommended. We had to let the Leopard have its freedom, till the next time it made a kill. The killing of one small Goat might seem an unimportant event; to the natives it was a serious loss. Moving on our upward path various thoughts and suggestions were suddenly interrupted: there was a loud sound of something bursting out of the bushes, making its way up the hill right in front of us. We came to an immediate stop, our hearts missed a beat or two. This sudden explosion was caused by a Pheasant and its movement was too fast for our rifles. Walter and I were 'pipped' when we next mounted the horses and we were glad to ride back to Bemlow for tea and scones prepared at the instructions of Walter's Mother.

AYAH, the Indian nanny. I can remember having three. From very early babyhood to about four there was Ganesu who was a hill woman, short and dark, not handsome; decked out with large rings in her ears and nose and bangles on her arms and ankles. Dressed in leg hugging black trousers and a white Kamise (long shirt) with an embroidered black waistcoat. This was covered with a white Chudder (half length Sari down to knees). This was a picturesque costume and always looked fresh and clean. I don't remember much about Ganesu except that she had a limp and kept us in order. Our next Ayah was, well we just called her Ayah, I can't remember her name. She was tall and handsome and was a woman from the Gharwal hills. Her husband was our cook. She was very kind and stayed with us until I was nine; when we went to England with the family. Ganesu I learnt had died, hence the change in Ayahs. On our return from England Ayah Bhundoo was taken on, she was also from the hills as were all our servants. The hill people were found to be very reliable. Much to our amazement Bhundoo spoke English to our sister who had left all her Hindustani behind in England. Our servants were always to speak to us in their mother tongue and in so doing we picked up the 'lingo' without being conscious of it. In later years we were to have a Chaprassi (house messenger) who was educated in Urdu, Persian and English and we learnt a lot from this chap called Gafoor. Back to Bhundoo Ayah. She was squat with a not unpleasant face which would crease up in a broad attractive smile. Her dress was that of a Pahari woman (Hill woman), that is tight black trousers covered with a Kamise, black waistcoat with silver buttons and looped chain at each button hole; some waistcoats were embroidered. Then the head was covered in a thin white Muslin Sari of knee length. My abiding memory of this marvellous woman was a clean fresh smell of Cloves and Coriander perhaps; I know she did use herbs sometimes in her Sag (Spinach) and vegetable dishes. The feet were always bare in the house and the ankles had silver bangles and the wrists were decorated with bracelets and bangles. The nose had a brass or gold, intricately designed, disk, hung from a thin chain leading to her ear: and of course the ears always had rings of some kind suspended from the lobes, and even at the tops of the ears there were studs or tiny rings. This was her everyday dress. Of course the dress on festive or special occasions was more colourful and elaborate, if that were possible! Suffice it to say that Ayah was a very picturesque person. Earlier I had called her a marvellous woman which I will now clarify. Bhundoo was a veritable treasure to the family, especially to my Mother. The running of the house was more or less in her charge; that is, the laundry, knitting, mending of socks and garments, making the beds and keeping the cupboards containing our clothes in order. She even laid out our day to day changes which in the hot season was three times a day; that my friend amounted to a large bundle of clothes! Many friends admired her and said that we were very lucky to have her services: apparently all Ayahs were not good. Of course our family didn't look on her simply as a servant, rather as part of our family; she always showed us great affection. I remember that in later years when ever I returned home from my travels she would clasp her arms around me to welcome me back. When we left India in 1947 we were all heart broken to part company. Incidentally, Ayah Bhundoo's husband became our Cook and was a most amiable and congenial man, apart from the fact that he was a first rate Chef...

Khansama (Cook) as he was always known to us had worked for other English families in the past and had accumulated a very large repertoire of culinary skills; presumably learnt from some English ladies who themselves were good cooks. The Cook House was usually in a separate building from the main house and was the exclusive domain of Khansama. The lady of the house never, or very rarely entered this area. Other servants would of course sit around and chat while waiting for other things to do; this was quite often because each servant, as Caste dictated was assigned to his own particular task. I would sometimes enter the cook house on asking permission, which was always granted: the reason I had was usually for a quick smoke and of course a chat, even sometimes about the food. The cooking range in this exclusive room was built up to waist height from bricks and mud plaster. The fuel used was always Charcoal which gave a steady heat and the meals turned out with this ancient method of cooking was truly amazing. Apart from the wonderful Main dishes; I remember, in particular the wonderful Desserts offered up. I'm sure he could have presented a different one for each day of the year! Friends always enjoyed his meals and I think some would have liked to 'head hunt' Khansama. He and Ayah as I mentioned were husband and wife and would go to their village in the hills, each year for a paid holiday. This was the system for all servants. During the Political disturbances in 1947 the Simla Butchers closed down. They were all Muslims and had to go into retreat in the Mosque while awaiting evacuation to the newly formed Pakistan. I used to visit the Mosque on occasions to have a chat with some of these unfortunates that I knew. The Chowkidar of our property for a start. He had been with the property ever since he was a child and was now a very nice man with his own family of three children. It was most sad to see him go because of the disturbances. My Tailor who was a venerable old Muslim, a Kashmiri, I think. He was most capable and could adapt most thoughts and ideas to cloth and cut and fit to a finish something quite presentable. Also he was reliable. However, as I say the Butchers shops had to close which meant that our diet was purely vegetarian for six to eight weeks before we were also evacuated from Simla and left for England. The various dishes Khansama produced was truly amazing. I forgot to mention that he also did the daily shopping and used to present his accounts to my Mother on a daily basis and at the same time would take his orders for the daily Menu.

Horse riding was another pursuit which we enjoyed. There were Central stables in the Bazaar in Simla from where we used to hire out the ponies. Ponies of course is what I started on when just eight years old; the larger animals scared me at the time until I became used to handling the creatures and later upgraded myself to the larger horses. As I remember it, these horses were originally purchased in the Montgomery area of the Punjab, and were ridden up to Simla the three to four hundred miles distance each Spring to ply their trade. They were ridden back to the Plains at the end of the season and wintered away from the intense cold of the Hills. Horse riding was not only a pleasurable pass time but also it enabled us to venture into the upper reaches of the Simla hills; to places like Sanjauli, Mashobra, Kufri or even to Kulu and Manali. Tibet was about one hundred and ninety miles from Simla so this Land of Mystery (in the thirties very few people could get permission to visit Tibet) was also possible to visit. I however could not find the time or opportunity to go further than Naldera -- about twenty miles away-- Never the less the parts we rode to were very beautiful and well worth the trek. Horses were used a lot by professional people, such as Doctors, to get about their daily business in the hills.

In Delhi, where we lived in the Winter season, next to the Racecourse, horses were a common sight. Every morning and evening horses, privately owned, would pass by the house on their way to the Racecourse or even the scrub jungle behind. Polo was a favourite game amongst the Military folk and also the Indian Princes and Rulers. The latter would assemble once a year in Delhi to take part in the Princes Polo Tournament. As many as five hundred horses would come into Delhi and would be stabled at the Racecourse. I used to watch these games of Polo with much enthusiasm. Rajas and Princes from Jaipur, Alwar, Jodhpur, Kashmir and Kupurtala -- besides many other States -- were represented. The Maharaja of Jaipur was one of the leading players with a high goal handicap. Other games of Polo were held elsewhere on Military grounds. At the time, some years before the Second World War, all Cavalry Units were Mounted Horse Regiments and the competition was great. I once visited the Silchar Polo Club in Assam which I believe was the first Polo Club to be formed in India. Most of the Clubs in Assam, subsequently became Polo Clubs. It was said that one of the qualifications to enter the Indian Civil Service -- or 'The Heaven Born' as they were known by the Indians -- was to be a keen Polo player; this also applied to the Military, so I am told! At least in the higher echelons. From time to time I got rides on Polo ponies, with the condition that I would be careful when exercising these precious animals. I always thought Polo was the best game in the world, but alas, it was out of my reach. On a few occasions there would be small incidents; either having a 'Barbary' mount or even a wicked one. There were a few stumbles and falls along the way; two incidents I later found amusing. One morning I was mounted on a Pony and my older brother and Billy Hill (him of the cycle polo accidents) were trotting across the Maidan (open grassed area) near the Government Secretariat when Billy's horse stumbled and took fright, it broke into a frenzied gallop: thinking he was just in favour of a fast gallop, we followed. This lasted a good five minutes. When we came to a wide ditch the mounts leapt across, putting the frighteners up me, and the lead horse (Billy) calmed down and came to rest. It was only then that Billy admitted that he had lost control! The other incident took place in the Simla Hills when Cynthia dismounted her horse to take a closer at a Rock snake I had drawn to her attention. Of course her horse turned and bolted on its way back to its stables in the Simla Bazaar! our companion Fred was not an experienced rider so I was left to gallop after the loose horse. I did eventually catch up, after half a mile or so, with the beast and returned to my companions. Horseback riding was not a daily exercise but when we had the time, a couple of times a week or less, we would take full advantage of the horses offered for hire, or in the case of Polo Ponies a free ride. I think I must have identified myself with the Cowboys at the Cinema; Gary Cooper especially, and fancied I was riding the 'Range'!