My parents were about to celebrate 36 years of marriage on 23rd October, so my Dad was 59 years old and my Mom was 58.  Gerald and I celebrated 50 years of marriage last year, 2019, so this seems particularly poignant to me today, and how young they still were!

My Mom was living with us in Melbourne at the time this was written, and travelling between Australia and Angola to be with my Dad for a few months at a time.   His address at the top right hand corner of the letter is 21 Ely Place, 12th October, 1980.   I believe he was living and working in Andrada in Angola?

On the top left hand corner, my Mother has written: “26th October, 1980 – From Mam – To my Children – May they learn from it.”

Clearly Dad had posted this to her, she read it, and then wrote the note on his letter, then gave it to me for safe keeping.  I had forgotten about it until two weeks ago.

Here is Dad’s letter, in his glorious curly script, with lots of creative flourishes.

Sweetheart (underlined)

Another Sunday, yesterday I went to the swimming pool at 11.30 am but I just did a couple of lengths breast stroke as I still have the problem with my left ear, and I have been thro’ the course of antibiotics and the dosing with drops, I think it’s a little better, although I spoke too soon about having no pain, and I have been taking a couple of Paracetemol to sleep at night.   I dare not take those tablets for sleeping which I brought with me, they affect me differently here, it takes me days to get over them.  Thank you for the razor and blades sweet, received on Thursday, only eight days after dispatch.  I got a statement from the bank in London saying that interest on fixed deposits would be paid out one month prior to maturity, so I can have a 1,000 pound sterling no trouble at all in December.   Willie Blackstock and his wife Pam and children left today for a holiday in Portugal and then on to the republic, they are not coming back and I shall miss them.   I got all sorts of stuff from them.  Double bed sheets, bed covers (white), an electric kettle, a Sunbeam electric frypan (almost new), an electric mixer, pie dishes, special cheese graters, bowls, ,etc. etc.   All good and all paid for.   Bill Chioffi (that name!) has just left me since starting this 5.5 hours ago, he called from Dundo and we went to another friend of mine and had lunch and drinks and he has just left to go back to Dundo.   He has just left me an introductory application for an American Express card, always handy I suppose.  The lights are so bad in this house I am writing this on my lap under a standard lamp.  I have had to come inside as I was being bitten to death.   As soon as the sun goes down, they descend on me.  Well Sweetheart, its drawing close to our Anniversary, the 23rd of this month “Tobruk Day” “Alamein Day” – that’s something that you and me and Field Marshall Montgomery have in common, how many years ago, who’s counting anyway.   This is the wedding that Sandra would not forgive you for and wanted to know why she wasn’t a bridesmaid at - (our wedding).  We’ve had our ups and downs, our many trials and tribulations, but always faced them together, always side by side, always in love and harmony – always I love anyway. 

Do you remember the time we were bombed together in 6 Ridge Road, London, the time that Susan smashed her head on the swing in the park, and I had to rush her to hospital, or before that, the first tine I came to visit you in Hendon when Susan was born, I wasn’t a bad looker then, was I?  And we went into the labour ward to see you because all the nurses thought I was a Film Star or something.  You were all bathed in sweat and I thought then as I do now that you were beautiful.  Then there was the time with Susan as a tiny baby in Ridge Road when I was going back off leave, and the moth appeared in our palatial dwelling and she said “Quick Dad, a moth ball!” – remember?  (Susan explained to me recently that as a child she thought moth balls were for throwing at moths!)

And much later in South Africa when I went to the Mowbray Nursing Home in Cape Town to witness for the first time our beautiful little girl Sandra with the one eye?   Yes, to me she was beautiful with one eye, but oh! – what a bonus I had coming when I discovered she really had two, no wonder she had (and Gerald) such a beautiful son, because she was a gorgeous child, and ate this very moment, I cry thinking about her than and holding her in my arms and playing little games with her as I have done  with our Joshua, yes sweet, I must thank you for these things.  (Sandra explains:  I was born with a ‘caul’, a piece of membrane that can cover a newborn’s head and face, occurring in fewer than 1 in 80,000 births.  It is harmless – but they didn’t know that at the time.  Dr. Rauch, their doctor, came and removed it, and my left eye didn’t cry for some days, but it was perfect.)  Sailors believe a child born with a caul is lucky and will never drown.

Then there was Ian and what to do for the best and it had to be boarding school when we got to Northern Rhodesia.  I know what you are saying I’m jumping the gun.   The encephalitis in Cape Town, the horrible moments you spent with him in hospital (moments?) weeks.  (Explain:  Ian was six weeks old and my Dad was already working in Northern Rhodesia, when he contracted encephalitis, one of a few children in Cape Town to do so – they all died, except Ian, who had surgery and was very sick for a long time.)

 And the heartbreak of taking him to Christian Brothers College in Kimberley, for which we think he still holds against us.  Then there was the time in 47-6th Street and the terrible phone call saying that Ian had been badly injured and was in hospital.  Then came the lightning run down to Kimberley, after hasty planning and my first meeting with the poor bloke in hospital with the policeman sat outside of the ward, and the negotiating with injured parties and insurance companies, the paying out of thousands of Rands to square everyone up. 

Then the pleasure and heartbreak of our two girls when they got married and I have always felt so special when they have said to me ‘I love you Dad’.   The first time Ian proclaimed this was in Kimberley, I had been with him for a couple of weeks and watched him improve in health and spirits and the day finally came when, bags packed, I stood at the gate of the home where he was staying, ready to get into a taxi, I had already said goodbye to him and he called “Dad” and hurriedly hobbled to the gate and threw his arms around me and said “Thanks, I love you Dad” – well, this just broke me up, because I ever thought I would ever hear this from Ian, which only goes to prove he is a Guthrie.   I just heard Sandra say “What about the time we wrote the Consul off in Riet Vlei Harding in Natal?”  and we were all carted off to the hospital, prior to this the super human efforts of getting you all out of the car and up what seemed to be a mountain onto the road.  (Explain:   We had a bad car accident on Boxing Day 1963 I think, and my Mom was hospitalised for some weeks there and then in Simonstown, when we stayed in the hotel Rhodesia by the Sea.  I was asleep on the back seat, and unharmed, Ian was asleep on my Mom’s lap in the front, and unharmed, amazingly.  My Dad had to carry us all up the embankment to the road and wait for help.)

Then there was our trip to East Africa, Malindi and Mombasa, Tonga, and Mali.  Our South American trip, Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay and our world trip, not forgetting our other little jaunts to the UK when Mam saw the children and the time we all went up to Scotland in the 375 (Consul) and will we ever forget the time we took delivery of the Consul at Hendys in Southampton and in our first five miles in our beautiful shiny white car, (Dad’s first ever brand new car) and Ian sinking his teeth into the beautiful blue padded scuttle (dashboard).  (Explain:  Ian was sat on my Mom’s lap, and leaning forward, ‘grazing’ on the padded dashboard …..)  I think at that moment, OI came closer to having a coronary than any other moment in my life.  

There were moments of extreme joy and pride, one I recall at a Masonic Ladies Night when you, Susan and Sandra were there and the ogling, cooing and whistling that occurred as we all appeared together and people made such remarks as “What a bevy of pulchritude!” and “It’s all yours, eh, Tom!”  and my heart would be bursting with pride, and I would shrug my shoulders casually as tho’ to say “Doesn’t everyone have families like this?”  I have never known two girls who could show off clothes better than Susan and Sandra (excepting their mother).

We have so many wonderful memories and as I sit here thousands of miles from nowhere alone with nothing but these beautiful memories, I feel a king in my own right, what more could a man want?   I love you more now than ever I did before my sweet and I’m sure we will have many more wonderful times together and many more memories to make.

Your loving Tom xxxxxx

Love to S.G. J.