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Letter from John Cawte Beaglehole to his Mother, 12 October, 1926

page 1
This beats Auntie Laura hands down

Dear Mummy

You will see by the above that at last
after much tramping the stony streets of London & unwear-
enquiry I have found a habitation & an abiding place.
It is either in Bloomsbury or in Holborn, I'm not sure
which, but WC1 will indicate the position sufficiently to
the accomplished postmen of this great city. I started looking
last Monday, & reckon that I have inspected quite ¾ of the in-
sides of the [gap — reason: unclear] houses of this highly respectable part of the
city (as a matter of fact some of it isn't too respectable, but
this joint is above reproach) & a good deal of those in
the more outlying districts. Kensington is quite a decent
place, but rents are too high, in addition to which you have
to get the Tube in & out; now that Toob is an excellent
institution, of the greatest utility in finding your way
about in the metropolis, but I got fed up with it after
a while. The Choob is all they claim for it; but it
is also noisy; & though it is cheap, when you are saving
up the pennies so as to be able to spend the pounds on books
& other things, the expense is not to be lightly thought of.
Earl's Court is a station farther out than the one which was
nearest to Cromwell Rd; & I went out there to have a squiz
at the district, which seemed fairly dirty — this you will
page 2 remember was where that flat Averil Lysaght spoke of
was situate; but from the tenants of same I have heard
not. Now that I am settled I suppose it is on the
cards that I shall. Round Gower St & district therefore
I looked chiefly, in Bloomsbury Square & Bedford Square
& Tavistock Square & so on & so forth, sometimes picking
out boarding houses at random from the hundreds that
line these streets, sometimes looking for a house where
the top windows were [unclear: uncurtained] & asking if that room
was to let. Generally it wasn't; sometimes it was, but
then the price was 5/- or 2/6 too much. I met all
sorts of landladies, clean dirty, well-dressed, slovenly-dressed
perfect ladies, imperfect ladies; one or two men, one a
Dago, who offered me an extraordinary sort of attic cupboard
away at the top of a stepladder at the summit of an im-
mensely high house, which had a dirty bed ditto washbasin
& no room to stand up, for 8 bob; & the other a NZ.er,
who offered me a 25/- room for 22/6 on the score of
my nationality; & I nearly took this, as the bathroom
was about the best I have seen in this country, peculiarly
lacking in this respect, considering the state about the
typical Englishman's cleanliness. I haven't seen a shower
yet. I had options over about ½ dozen rooms at once
at times, saying I would come back tomorrow if I wanted
[gap — reason: unclear] one of them; at last Joynt said that Brunswick Square
was a place where several NZers had stayed & been very
comfortable. So I ambled around & finally found Bruns page 3 wick Square, & started my usual house to house canvass;
going by inadvertence twice to the same house, by the way,
in one case, once in the morning, again in the afternoon.
However the lady was very charming & put me on to this place
& the Miss Hawkins who keeps same. Miss Hawkins only had
a double large room, to a single gent 30/- to a double gent 35/- so
I said nothing doing, although it was a nice room & prepared
to depart, when she said "You haven't got a friend who
share it with you?, have you? It wd only be 17/6 a
week each then." I thought hard, & finally thought of Duncan
so I said I wd see what I could do, tore down to the London
School of Economics
to see the boy or leave a note for him,
& then back to the square to look for a single room in
case he couldn't come & found a very good one I could
probably have for 20/- when the proprietress got back
from the South of France. So far so good — I went
back to S. Kensington & informed McG that I would be leaving
tomorrow. But he was a bit incredulous, as I had told
him the same yarn for about a week (Henning went to
Paris at the beginning of the week & McG filled his place
in the bed, though he was not such a gentleman about the
bedclothes as Henning) both night & morning. Duncan didn't
get the note till the next day, & in the meanwhile spent
several hours carting all his books (& he brought hundreds)
up th what seemed like 1000 steps to me [gap — reason: unclear] together with his clothes & [unclear: trunks];
at the same time informing his landlady that he was quite
page 4 pleased with the place & would probably be staying perman-
. When I went round to see him [gap — reason: unclear] next night he
wasn't in, having gone round to see me, but she told me
she thought he was a very nice kid, & we stood on the
doorstep & mutually sang his praises, ode & epode, till a
quite late hour. It was a different story next day. I
finally got hold of the lad on Saturday & brought him round
here in the afternoon; I had spent the morning going down
to Southwark & inspecting a 9/- [gap — reason: unclear] room there which could
by cleaned up for me in two or three days, & which on
the score of cheapness I was inclined to take, though the house
itself & the general environment was pretty dirty. Gas, no
bathroom, only one tap down in the yard. The place was
big enough, & could have been made quite attractive with
some toil, but gas both for light & cooking wd probably
have come to a fair amount, plus at least 1/- a week for
Tube, Toob, or Chube; while the absence of a bath certainly
irked me. although as the friend of the owner who took
me there explained; there was a public bathing establishment
not far away. But after Brunswick Square I still felt a
bit repelled. So I said I would let her know if I wanted it,
as usual, & decided that if Duncan fancied a joint ménage
I would go in for that. And on bringing him round, he
appeared pleasantly surprised, & after some inward
communing, we paid £1 deposit & the deal was fixed.
He said I would have to help him shift his books etc & I
consented quite amiably, indeed with enthusiasm, not
page 5 knowing what I was doing. That being Saturday, we agreed
to move in on Sunday & got the business done. So I threw
myself & baggage into a taxi (one thing that is fairly cheap here)
& went round. Then Duncan came round & we walked
back to his place right along the Edgeware Rd. Well his land-
had turned snarky & said he ought to have given her a
week's notice etc etc; tried to do him out of 10 bob & glared
every time he passed — my word! I've never known a
more rapid change-over, not even Brookie with me. But
that was the least of his troubles. I'm coming to the
conclusion that I travelled lighter than most people on that
boat; likewise that D. travelled as heavy as anyone
bar the Berry push, who had a stack of luggage as high
as a house. By gosh! he had two enormous boxes, one
of which was hard to move when it was empty, &
impossible when it was full; both of them full of books,
we had to empty his drawers, where he had put some
of the books; carry down the boxes or trunks or cases
whatever they were; carry down the books; stack some
in the cases, & some loose in a taxi; get the boxes onto
the taxi; get everything off at the other end, unpack &
carry up numerous other stairs (we are right on the top
of this house) & finally carry up what trunks we wanted.
Well, I don't know which is the greater nuisance — having
to bother with all his stuff, or having the lost feeling which
I have when I think of all the books I've left at home &
page 6 would like to see [gap — reason: unclear] & feel around you me; let alone read.
On the whole I think its better to have the books if you
can get a friend who's mug enough to help you cart them
from Cromwell Rd to B.Sq: from Oxford St where D. lived
to B.S; back again empty; return journey full; & then after
we had had some lunch (at 3 in the afternoon) from St.
here with the final load, my green cabin-trunk.
Luckily we were able to carry this up the stairs without
unpacking it. These houses weren't built for convenience.
Four stories, most of them, very narrow, steep, winding stairs
& no method of getting anything anywhere except by climbing.
They were built in the days when a slavey's services were
to be had for a song — 125 years old this one is. Well, my
heart's bled for some of the old women who've opened the door
me on my adventures & led me up to the top-room. They
earn their money. The houses aren't very handsome either, though
from some aspects they have a certain dignity — it's the square
that makes them — the lawn & the trees in the middle. Our
square has according to Miss Hawkins the finest tree in Lon-
; which statement I'm prepared to believe but not to
back with my authority till I've seen all the rest. It's
certainly a very fine tree, although its species is unknown
to me. In summer they play lawn-tennis on the grass, I
hear; the place is closed in the winter, but all the houses
in the square have keys. That's the tragedy about this
place — none of these squares are is? private public; property & this
page 7 one has just been sold together with all the land & houses around
it, for a million or so. All the trees are to go as soon
as the new owners take possession, unless a miracle
happens first; & more of these uniform houses erected on
the ruins. Its a darned shame, to put it so mildly as not
to bring a blush even to Auntie's cheek — well, to look at the
square now & imagine the place in two or three years time
makes me feel quite sick. But the destroyers can't enter
on possession for at least a year yet. You would think
with a city built like this one that something could be done,
to stop further congestion right in the heart of it. Give me the
good old haughty landed aristocracy rather than this buy & chop
commercial gang which runs the country now.

Well, from the foregoing you can see what sort of a
place the place is. We have two beds, one of which, a big
affair occupied by me, swings back up to the wall by day.
The other is a stretcher affair that doesn't occupy much room.
Also a sofa, covered during the day by my rug, which
at night covers me. Also two fairly satisfactory armchairs
& three small chairs. Likewise a table with two extensions
that drop down at the side when not required. Likewise
a chest of drawers. Likewise a marble-topped sort of table
for washing up on, the repose of shaving materials etc. A
book shelf case, divided ½ & ½ between us. A gas fire with a
burner at the side for our cattle. A [gap — reason: unclear] Two cupboards for
clothes just outside the door. In one of them the gas-meter —
page 8 one of those bob in the slot things invented expressly for the
purpose of diddling coves like us, I suppose. Bathroom just
across the landing. Green carpet rather the worse for wear,
but not so bad if you arrange the furniture diplomatically.
Market-basket which we use for waste-paper. Two big
windows; curtains to match sofa (when denuded of my
rug & one armchair. My books are on the two top shelves
of the book-case; Duncan's on e the two lower; four big stacks
of his also on the chest of drawers; others in his cabin-trunk
under the bed; others in another trunk beneath one of the
windows. The rest in suitcases behind the sofa. However
if he provides all the literature, or most, I provide all
the pictures. By gum! I was annoyed about them; the
glass of Daddy's photo smashed to smithereens, likewise that
of one of the Corot's. Your two pictures came though all
right, except for one wee little crack in the extreme lower
right hand corner of the big one; which wd seem to argue
some superior virtue in yourself which can make your
presentment so immune. I think Horace, as translated by
numerous English poets has something on the subject —
innocence & virtue [gap — reason: unclear] among raging wolves, or something to
that effect. Then there was a crack right across the
middle of that little watercolour Mrs. Mansfield gave
me. And as I have four or five other things to frame,
including my Japanese prints, the whole thing will
cost me a fair bill. But the walls will be all the
better for it; they are pretty bare at present. Thank Heaven
page 9 they are also pretty clean!

Wednesday 13th I continue between tea and going to a Prom.
This is the last week of the Proms & I am accordingly having
a week out. I forget what exactly I was talking about, but
gather it was the virtues of the Room; though I think I had just about
finished discussing them. Did I mention the presence as ornaments
or lumber on various mantelpieces & other projecting ledges our
trophies of the trip? — my candlestick etc, little brass bowl from
Colombo; & a black elephant whose tusks came off on the sea-
voyage, won by Duncan for something? I added to the orna-
yesterday by the purchase of a chastely hortatory card at
a shop run by religious ladies, inscribed thus (underlined
words in red): "The Beauty of the House is Order: The Blessing
of the house is Contentment: The Glory of the house is Hospitality:
The Crown of the house Hospitality Godliness". This cost 4d; &
Duncan demurred a bit at having to contribute 2d towards the
promulgation of such sentiments, but by perseverance & cheer-
reasoning I got him to see the light; anyhow he put it
down in the account book. I do most of the marketing, & am
already a pretty dab hand at marking down the cheap shops
in the Holborn district; he keeps the accounts, on the score that
he is thinking of taking a course of lectures in currency & banking.
We thus split up the work & household expenses pretty equally; though
as I had tea home tonight & he had his out I stand to have
half my tea payed for by him. In other things where it is
less easy to weigh up expenses we practice an enlightened
page 10 communism — viz. I use his boot-polish. Under these conditions,
& as we don't see each other all day, we reckon that we
can go on for a fair whole without having a row. It will
be a bit awkward if we do with all this impedimenta to shift,
especially as we have now a quantity of household crockery,
a kettle, glass jug, knives & spoons etc added to it. The acquis-
of these cost me a weary trek all down the Edgeware
to Woolworth's, in the rain moreover, & made me
miss a lecture I wanted to go to by Pollard. However I
don't suppose he could tell a bloke like me anything

That brings me on to the question of work. I haven't
done any yet; although I have at last succeeded in
tracking down somebody useful. I got hold of Foster the
Provost & handed over Mr [unclear: Jellies'] letter; but it was right in
the middle of the rush at the beginning of the term, so I
just got pushed through & registered like any other student.
I am hanging on to the other letter for Seton the Sec. of
Univ College till things quieten down a bit, when I hope
he will have the decency to ask me round to afternoon
tea. We feel a bit starved now even on three pretty
good meals a day, after the Osterley orgies so we naturally
regard all our letters of introduction in the light of possible
meals. Then I had a look over the Institute of Historical
; which however I think I mentioned before. If I
didn't, I found it good. Then after several failures I
managed to run down Pollard, who is a great man, &
page 11 chat to him a couple of times, with the result that I shall
probably be working with under him on political theory of
some sort. I think the idea of sovereignity, if that conveys
anything to you. (It probably won't be a book you will be
able to plough through — about twice as heavy as Gibbon, & you
couldn't even do his first chapter). Polland reckons that would
be far more broadening to the mind that working on NZ
history. At the same time I don't exactly fall in with his
idea of the exact scope of the thesis — but that is still pretty
much up in the air. Well, I must get off to my Prom.

10.30 Well, I've been on the 7th Heaven — the London
pavements were like air beneath me as I walked home, &
they glistened like silver; the trees in the squares as I turned
the corner were the abode of magic; the street-lights sang to the
policemen underneath then & I positively looked for a pavement-
artist to give my last penny to. (I found one too, though it
was after ten) So I threw my coat & hat on the floor & said
to Duncan let's have some cocoa to celebrate! So the water
is now getting hot. He said I heard a hummer lecture from
Laski today on sovereignty, so I brought my notes home for
you to see. And I am now quite broke & will have to
borrow 2d from the boy to get down to the Bank tomorrow
morning to cash a cheque for myself — or walk, & it is a
darn long way. Bach, Handel, Mozart — you can't beat 'em;
I wouldn't give two damns for anyone else. I actually went
to the extent of scratching out a poem in the interval. Well,
page 12 well, this life will do me for a while. Glory be to God in the
highest! You never heard anything like the Bach fiddle
concerts! & played like by Jelly d'Aranyi like a flaming
angel. While the Handel 12th concert! My oath!

10.45. Have made cocoa. I could have fought Jack
: I could have knocked out Gene Tunney. I could
have walked over a bus. Luckily all the buses got out of the

Thursday 14th To get things finished up to date; I am now struck
by spasms of doubt about my thesis, & am inclined to go back
to NZ after all. Harrop's book is out & I have just bought it,
but he doesn't touch most of the stuff I have been working
up. I think I'll chat to one or two more blokes before
deciding. NZ is a bit parochial — the only thing is that I know
the ground pretty well. However by the time you get this I
suppose everything will be fixed. As a matter of fact, it is a
darned nuisance having to do any work at all; all I want
to do is to sit down & read, history or otherwise & get up & travel. About
all I have done so far is to inspect the bookshops, famous & other-
. I'm not so charmed by the 2nd hand ones as I thought
I would be so I can't have the true collector's spirit. I like
my books clean. J.E. Bumpus I patronise mostly, & am
getting on pretty fair terms with them. But I have nosed
round most of the celebrated joints — Bu Dobell etc.

I gathered from some hierogliphics on Keith's parcel
for Frannie, that her birthday was on the 10th & posted same
to reach her as near then as might be, though the 10th was a
page 13 Sunday. I had sent also a bit of a book to the girl on my
own account being anxious to make a good impression as
sole representative of the family, bar Keithles. But apparently
such was not needed — my fame had gone before. I got a note
from Mrs. J. by return post — they were ashamed they
hadn't welcomed me to the country before, but didn't know
how to get a letter to me etc etc. Would I come & make my-
at home at their place as soon as I could? how about Xmas?
I gathered from what she said ("Dear Jack" she said, which
is a bit familiar "I feel as though I have known you for the past
two years", & went on to say what a fine feller I was) that
the main occupation of Keithles when he was around at the
Johnsons & not singing his own praises to Frannie was singing
mine to the family in general.
This is very gratifying; it just
goes to show the influence for good a single high-souled cove
can have on his brother, when a rough like Keithles displays
such gratitude for his the early opportunities he enjoyed of
association with me.

I wrote to Auntie Jeanne also announced my advents
as she didn't seem inclined to write to me on the welcom-
stint — wasn't there some row when Alan was here
about his writing first business? — & invited myself down
for the weekend. So that's all right.

I got your letter this morning (dated Sept 12th to be
precise) received same with much enthusiasm & noted all
points therein contained with interest. As a matter of fact,
page 14 I went out & bought Earlham on the strength of Daddy's praise
of it. By gum! it's a joy buying books for the net price;
though even then you growl at it. What's this gag of Daddy's
about Davies' Later Days? He says he'll be glad to have it
if I don't want to do anything else with it. What does he think
I am? — a benevolent institution for the maintenance of the
libraries of hard-up bookmen?— Birth Xmas present from my
young brother Ern too. I'm prepared to sell it to him for
a lot more than Ern gave for it. By the way I suppose it's
a bit late to wish Ern luck in his final BA., but I dare
say he will have done his best all the same to live up to the
great traditions of the family, as laid down by me & a bit
wrecked by Keithles.

It's a pity I'm not home; I could give Keithles a lot
of advice on how to manage a dog. I remember I read a
series of articles in the B.O.P. by Dr. Gordon Stables on the
subject about 18 years ago, which added to my own original
experience makes me a good deal of an authority. But I
don't know that it's much use my giving any advice from
this distance, unless I cable it; by the time you get this
letter, the dog will probably be dead. But what Keithles
particularly wants to look out for, is to keep the dog well in
hand, in case it is inclined to bite the hand that fed it.
Likewise to buy a dog-license. Also keep Auntie off the dog,
or she will be making it sick in her well-known matter.
Also to keep Willie the Cat from eating the dog in mistake for
a meal one of these days in absence of mind. By the way,
page 15 you don't say what the dog's name is. I am prepared to supply
a list of suitable names on application, accompanied by stamped
addressed envelope & remittance. All cheques to be crossed.

I don't know about that thing of Mrs. Moore's, darn it. It
was stuck in a Manchester Guardian Weekly on my table at coll.
to keep it from getting dirty or crumpled up; I certainly didn't
bring it away. Ern had better go in & see if the M.Gs are still
in existence though it's a bit late now. I'll write to the old
girl with apologies etc — though the darn thing isn't of any
real importance, & if I ever get another (which is extremely
unlikely she shall have it) All the more reason for putting
the stuff into the Turnbull. Sorry to give you all this
bother. I see by a file of F.h's in the High Commis that
Geddis has been printing a bit of Capt Moore's autobiography,
or rather his boiling down of same, which is a hopeless trav
of the original.

In answer to your question re McG. — all the
people at our table had scholarships, bar Whinfield, & he
didn't need one — he could hold his end up against anyone.
Sorry that Auntie had to be laid aside for a while. A fat
lot of good any of these darn quacks are. My face is all
right & wd. have been so years ago if any of them had had
the gumption to suggest shaving in the other direction. Didn't
I tell you I fixed the business myself — flesh-pots or
no flesh-pots. — Bickerton has a neck to growl at may not
writing to him — that post card's the first thing I've had
page 16 from him for a year or 18 months. What was the use of
writing to him after he'd left Japan? I wrote just after before I got
those prints to say I'd meet him in London & the cow goes
& hops back to Japan before I get here. He couldn't stand Eng-
, according to Fortune, who seemed desperately anxious
to see me again, in spite of his low opinion of my general
capacity & culture. I saw him & had a look over part of
the Tate Gallery with him one day, & lunch & a bit of a
yarn in an ABC shop.

By the way will you post me my Old Clay Patch?
I forgot to bring it with me.

Also I forgot to mention that one of the advantages of
this place is that it's very handy to (a) Univ. College (b) Inst of
Hist Res.
(c) Br Museum (d) London School of Econ (e) Queen's
(f) things & places generally.

Please thank Mr Hooper for his note & Fabian
. Duncan is writing for two season tickets for the
lectures noted therein tonight.

Tuesday Oct 19th final burst: Well, I spent the weekend
at Popplestones Trimley with my aunt & uncle & cousins male
& female; and apparently in one way I was a great success —
anyhow I was not quite quick enough in making my getaway
& I'm blowed if Auntie Jeanne didn't hang round my neck &
kiss me. Which I judge, on so short an acquaintance, was
taking a decided liberty. However I got four or five meals
out of them, plus a pot of chutney & a bit of cake to bring
back, so perhaps it was cheap at that price. Auntie J.
page 17 doesn't seem too bad, although she talks a good deal on a large
variety of subjects which didn't interest me a great deal.
She's very much smaller than I judged she would be from
her handwriting, if that's any guide. Pressed me to come
again soon & write to her often. Keithles seems to have
been blowing my trumpet down there too; they all seemed
to have a terrific admiration for me before even I turned
up; & I gathered it was all through his emphasising what
a fine feller I was. It was a pity I couldn't say the
same thing truthfully for him; so not wanting to let
him down too hard, I didn't say anything about him at
all. Uncle George I liked very much; he took me
down to his studio & showed me a lot of stuff — some
snorter little landscape sketches, which I like a lot better
than his big stuff, & some good portraits. He is doing
a stunner pair of Berrie & Brian, though Berrie's improves
her a bit. He said he would do a sketch of me some time.
I had some very agreeable converse with him. Berrie is
very decent too; although to be sure, as Keithles said, she
doesn't dress too well, even if it's largely because she can't
afford it. She has a good cheerful face though. Brian met
me at the station, a gawky bloke much in need of his
annual shave. He had his annual shave next morning &
emerged quite a little gentleman, though it was a bit hard
talking to him. He took me for a stroll on Saturday
afternoon down to the beach & Felixstowe way, where I explored
one of those old Martello towers & saw a mob of harriers toiling
across country in the old familiar way; including the usual
page 18 lad with the stitch staggering painfully in the rear & having to shut
all the gates. The tower was an interesting place & would
be put to good use by Trampers if existing in NZ. Then
on Sunday morning we saw a dead branch off an oak
tree & started to saw some up; but just as I was really
getting warned up to the business Uncle G & B got fed
up & as it was a cross-cut saw I had to leave off.
First time I'd really exerted myself since leaving home.
If you omit moving D's books. Then in the afternoon
I walked back from the studio to [gap — reason: unclear] Trimley so rapidly
that I walked right past the place & had to come back to
it a good long way. You can see it doesn't stand out
very prominently.

Berrie has done some good Christmas cards &
calendars etc which a London firm is publishing.
I ordered 10/ bob's worth, so you will see some of them
in due course. I asked why she & Uncle George
didn't send more stuff out to NZ, especially at Xmas.
The trouble apparently is that they send out stuff &
that's the last they hear of it, & they gather that there's
no possible sale for it. They haven't heard a word from
the Paterson's about the last lot, much less got any
cash, & had come to the conclusion that the only thing
sold out of the whole lot was the stuff you & Daddy
bought. So Berrie was quite pleasantly surprised to get
only those back that I brought. I said Why don't you
write out to Uncle Alec & stir him up about a cheque?
But apparently they don't like stirring up relations I said
page 19 By gosh! I wouldn't have any hesitation! & said I wd put
in the boot. Berrie also said that now she knew some-
actually had been sold she wd write also. The
only word they had heard about the stuff sent out last
Xmas was in one of your letters. So Uncle Alec hardly
seems to be one of the monarchs [gap — reason: unclear] of modern business. You
might stir things up a bit, if you can do so tactfully. They said
everybody had the same experience with NZ — another cove
they knew sent some stuff to Auckland which was all
sold & wdn't have got a penny if it hadn't been for a cobber
on the spot. I told them they ought to try Eatons, but they
never heard of them.

The house is very nice, & fits the landscape very
well — looks a couple of hundred years old, though hardly two.
It looks very small from the outside, but when you get inside
has an astonishing amount of room. Some jolly good
pictures by Uncle George. Also a very excellent small
dog, indefatigable in chasing stones you throw away for
it — in fact a good deal more indefatigable than any
one could be in throwing the darn things for him. One of
these automatically wagging tails. In fact they seemed a
pretty good family all round; if you can forgive such
errors in taste as kissing a man after knowing him for
a day & a half. I don't go much on their meal system,
though — the plan is to break tea up into two sections, one
farthing little thing about ½ past 4 in the afternoon, another
sort of supper. Give me one good boy in about 6 and I'm page 20 jake or I can stand afternoon tea as well, as on the Osterley;
but I can't stand this messing around.

Well, I think that's brought everything up to date. I
had a note from Frannie the other day — she writes in
a funny way; starts off familiarly (too darn familiarly)
Dear Jack & finishes up Yrs sincerely F.F. Johnson. She
is coming down to London & I am to meet her this afternoon,
& give her afternnon tea I suppose. My busy day too but [gap — reason: unclear]
as it's a matter of backing up Keithles' efforts I suppose I'll
have to do my best.

I enclose some snaps, nearly all mine. The
few I mark D were taken by Duncan. I didn't take any
at a good many of places where McG & Henning were on the
warpath but when I can get hold of their films I shall
send you out a few to fill up the gaps. I haven't seen any-
really decent of me yet. I send also two or three
Osterley menus & a pamphlet on the Foundling Hospital
destruction with some photos of Brunswick Square — we're
all marked down for destruction together.

With love to all & sundry & the cat, not to
mention [gap — reason: unclear] the dog, I am Yrs sincerely

J.C. Beaglehole

P.S. I trust Auntie is hopping along better now. Also
that Auntie Win will get her hand in at cooking again
before she kills anyone. Also that you are looking
after yourself a bit better.


P.P.S. Don't forget the Xmas mail closes sometime in November.
P..... Also I send you if poss by this mail a paper that ought to
interest you.