There are several boxes of photographs under my bed which need to be sorted out, and they will be available as soon as possible. These, here shown, will bring back some very happy memories. Life wasn't always being Brown Owl to a Brownie Troop or hitting the G above middle C at Farters' Folly. One had a jolly time all through one's life and here is some photographic evidence.
The above is an advertisement for Dulcie cards.
All names & addresses are purely fictional; any similarities between persons, living or dead are coincidental & the product of a deranged mind.
Here, on the right, a lovely little picture of myself in the garden of Featheringstonehaugh Manor.
Happy days. What a bright and worthwhile future lay before me.
This would have been out first view of Cairo where my new husband, Clarence Featheringstonehaugh took me when we were first married. He was in the British Diplomatic Corps. There's a little joke in out family; "Marry one's first cousin, and one doesn't need to change one's note paper".
Clarence was a dear; not very bright, but very rich.
Shortly after our marriage, Clarence went, in his capacity of Under Consul, to visit one of the Bedouin leaders in his tent. This photograph was taken during their talks. Clarence is on the extreme left. The Arab chap next to him took and immediate liking to Clarence.
I told him he made a good impression in those shorts. Clarence was never seen again, though I have heard that they are quite happy together.
A view of the house (on the right) I moved into after Clarence was taken from me. The locals were very sweet and made sure I was safe and secure. It was there that I met my second husband, Mahmud. He was on loan to the Sultan by someone very high up in the Caliphate. Known to some of the natives as Mahmud the Bloody Turk. He was very rich and left me a small fortune when some of his men murdered him. It was a lovely funeral, though. I looked lovely in black.
Dear Mahmud, dressed for a day out, doing a bit of what was later known as 'Ethnic Cleansing'. A sweet man, with a lovely sense of humour.
Some of our chaps; I can't remember what their function might have been. Polo team, perhaps. They were known locally as the Mounted Pederasts... which is a translation from the Urdu or Hindi or whatever those chaps' language may be.. I don't know what it means, but it sounds rather poetic, don't you know.
Some jolly theatrical chaps my mother and I met when we were living at 7, Acacia Gardens, Cairo. Very moving dance, noted for its ethnicity ( a modern word meaning 'foreign'). He was very popular with some of the older Arab gentlemen. She was French, or something similar. Mother became rather too involved with them and we had to pack her off home.
My lovely Samir. My third husband. Insanely jealous. Practised the Black Arts of Amateur Gynecology, which were just coming into fashion. Unfortunately, it was discovered that he was somehow implicated in the attempt on the life of the Governor of Cairo and we had to flee the country for a while.
Vanished without a trace when he fell overboard when we were travelling by ship to West Australia.
Dear Old ‘Uncle’ Mustapha, our cook and general factotum when we were at Acacia Gardens. Incredibly loyal. Came with us to West Australia and eventually opened an Apothecary Shop and Restaurant in West Perth. His case at the High Court became quite a cause célèbre and he was dubbed “The Middle Eastern Poisoner” due to some of his more adventurous experiments.
Our sweet little house maid. One of my husbands (I can't remember which) acquired her in a game of Chemin de Fer at the French Consulate. Didn't speak much English, but a happy little soul. Unpronounceable name, so we called her African Violet, and she seemed to be happy enough with that. We gave her the house at 7, Acacia Gardens when we left Cairo after that dreadful Governor Business.
Apparently she did a roaring trade with lonely soldiers, tourists, sailors, businessmen and most of the staff of the Foreign Legations.
On the left one can see the Tradesmen's and Servants' entry at
7, Acacia Gardens, Cairo.
In African Violet's time, this became a well trod thoroughfare for many a lonely person. It was known locally as 'Big Violet's' or as our Frog friends would say,
‘La Maison de la Violette Grosse'.
And then we were in West Australia. Just as hot and dry as Cairo, and the West Australians were ghastly. But being a Featheringstonehaugh one knew how to make the best of any situation. One thought that if one could deal with Arabs, Turks and camels, one could surely deal with little girls, so one embraced the Guide Movement.
If the Baden-Powells could do it; so could I.
Me, giving one of my interesting little talks for which I became quite famous: 'Good Manners in the Home', 'Punctuation Can Be Fun', 'Dealing With Foreigners', 'Haute Cuisine For The Bush'; & 'How to Treat Servants' were five of my most popular topics. The dear Scouts and Guides were enthralled, as this photograph shows.
Taken in Bussleton, West Australia (Dreadful place)
First Class Dining Room. On the way to Fremantle, West Australia.
Double cabin. Quite lonely without Samir. But one filled one's day with fun on the promenade deck, (First Class, of course).
The Guides Movement in West Australia was not what I had experienced at Home in England. Rather loutish people on the whole. After one or two embarrassing incidents, in which my authority was thwarted, we decided to return to England.
We had heard that some close relations, Dickie and Edwina, with whom we had stayed in Norfolk, were in India, “closing down the shop” as they were wont to say; so we decided to go and stay with them for a while en route.
Lovely couple. We had some very interesting times with them as they seemed to have a lot of time on their hands. Among their other chums, we met a charming Indian chap (here pictured), who showed us around and made us most welcome. What a dear sweet man he was.
A jolly day out (I'm on the other side) with the Collector of Assam Province; riding what one would imagine to be a very grateful elephant.