'A Grandfather's Tale: Memoirs being mainly concerned with service in the Indian Army and the Indian Political Service in India and the Persian Gulf from 1932-1947' [‎43v] (86/118)

first words my mother, usually the aoul. of tact, uttered were, "Oh Darling,
I didn't realize you wore glasses". Happily my sisters Bill and Joyce roared
with laughter and the ice was broken, assisted by the advent of Christopher
and Elizabeth.
My brother Derek, after three years in the Western Desert and Egypt, had
recently come home and was stationed with a Coastal Command squadronat Lossiemouth
near Banff, where he and Dorothy were living, and they invited Jane and me to
visit them. Accordingly after a few weeks in Westcliff we left the children
there with their grandmother and Bill, and went up to Scotland. We had been
warned that travelling was difficult and that to obtain a seat we should be at
a precise point on the platform as the train drew up, and then make a dash for
it. Inevitably the train failed to stop at the right spot and we were dead
opposite the luggage van, and by the time we got aboard it was standing room
only in the corridor, and we found ourselves parked on our suitcases just outside
a lavatory. The train was full of troops, mostly young soldiers just out of
recruits' training, and of sailors going to rejoin their ships at Scapa Flow.
The latter were very good tempered but obviously much beer had been consumed and
there was a constant flow of traffic over our feet, to and from the lavatory.
At about 3 a.m. we stopped at Crewe and on the platform was a band of
women producing tea for the troops. I duly awaited my turn but when it came I
was greeted with a cry of "Forces only". Since most of the "Forces" concerned
had only about six months service apiece and I had been commissioned for nearly
fourteen years and had just come back from an eight year stint abroad, I felt
somewhat aggrieved, but I was, of course, in mufti and there was nothing I could
do about it. Luckily, however, one of our sailor friends sized up the situation
and speedily collected two large mugs of tea for us, and our faith in humanity
was restored. When the train reached Edinburgh we at last managed to get seats,
and on arriving at Aberdeen we had a marvellous Scots breakfast. I can still
smell those kippers, the first fresh ones I'd had for years.
We loved Banff and the country round about but Jane got into trouble for
asking for cigarettes in the local shop. They were apparently all reserved for
"our poor lads in the Forces". I got a bit tired of this attitude, particularly
as the War in Europe had been over for some months and that with Japan was just
about to end. However, most of the Scots were extremely pleasant and hospitable,
and when, to the horror of the landlord, Jane walked with me into the bar of our
nearest pub, he hastily ushered us into his private parlour. There I spotted a
photograph of his son in a Gunner Sergeant's uniform, and asked where he was
serving, and after that the ice was thoroughly broken and we were invited to
come into the parlour by the back way whenever we wanted. Simple things like this
decent draught beer in an English or Scots pub, morning service in an ancient
church and the fresh greenness of the countryside were what one had most missed
in serving abroad. Others, even more elementary, like being able to drink water
straight from the tap without boiling it, and having electricity as a matter of
course instead of as a luxury, were all the more appreciated.
Jane had been at R.A.D.A. and was very keen on the theatre, and during
our leave we saw a number of plays, including "The Mouse Trap", then in its
first year. It was good vintage Agatha Christie but quite why it has run on