Uncle was staying in Norwich with the Corbould Warrens and was invited to a shoot. As he had never shot at high-flying pheasants, he was told not to expect too much, as, without previous experience, he would find these birds very difficult. The gamekeeper who was standing near by took a rather superior attitude to this guest, which changed, when at the end of the day it was found that Uncle had done better than anyone else, getting something like 90% of kills. He was a first class shotLater in life he contacted me from Turkey and asked me to fix up an appointment for him with an eye specialist, whom on arrival he went to see. That evening I got a phone call: "I saw your Uncle to-day, Geoffrey, a most extraordinary man in his demands, for, well on in his eighties, he told me that when out shooting he could not see woodcock very well, and so would I please give him a pair of glasses to overcome this defect." He was an old friend of Calouste Gulbenkian, the oil magnate, and used to correspond regularly with him. So whenever he came to London I used to phone Nubar, Calouste's son, who would call on Uncle and pay his Father's respects.
In the early days of the firm, Grandfather was going to Carlsbad for his annual cure, and leaving the firm in the hands of Uncle and Father, he gave strict instructions that they should lay off a certain commodity. But no sooner was Grandfather away than the two started buying heavily, so much so that on Grandfather's return he was in absolute despair at prospects of bankruptcy. The market then changed suddenly giving rise eventually to very large profits, from which, it is said, Grandfather took all the credit. Uncle Edwin and Father were the closest of friends. During the first war Father looked after an old friend, dying of T.B. which Father sadly caught to die from it in 1929. While he was ill the shares of some cotton factory came on the market, of which Uncle bought a large dollop on Father's behalf, without giving him any option, and leaving payment to be made as and when it would be convenient. This was done at a later date and after Father's death it was largely due to this purchase that Mother could lead a comfortable life until her end came. Only my dead brother Hugh and I know of this gesture of Uncle's.
In the 30’s Uncle was very friendly with Sir George Clerk the British Ambassador, who used to come over to stay both in Moda and at the country house at Alemdagh. Barbara was very fond of the two, and in Moda took to joining them over elevenses in the garden, that is when we were in Moda. Sir George was very fond of his champagne, both at this hour and at others. He was also very fond of shooting and on one occasion I got into hot water with Uncle's man, Hussein Pehlevan, an awful old rogue. What happened was that out with my gun and the dogs I put up a pair of pheasant and got a right and a left, to return in triumph (pheasants were very scarce birds). Hussein on hearing of this was furious. He had already located these birds and was keeping them for the Ambassador, in hopes of getting a large tip. Uncle was the complete gentleman, in the best sense of the word, as well as being a most interesting man. It is very sad that he never took to writing his memoirs, which could have filled a fascinating book. At one time he, by some means or other had come by a chest containing correspondence to the Turkish Foreign Office, written in a variety of languages. This was deposited in London, presumably being smuggled out, but sadly was destroyed during the war. I mentioned the Australian relatives. During the war Whittalls were sending parcels to P.O.W.'s, and one day received a letter of thanks from one, who said he was a Whittall from Australia and was there any connection. On investigation it turned out that he was a descendant of Percy Whittall who emigrated to Australia from Smyrna in the late 19th. century. Anyhow at a later date two of these Australians were coming to Europe and Uncle invited them to stay. One was a lady who had spent her life running a hostel for backwoodsmen somewhere out in the wilds, and she could never get used to uncle's gentle and polite ways and did not feel at home in such company. Anyhow one day there was talk of getting up a party to go somewhere into the interior, and she asked whether she could go, to which Pat Tweedie answered "No, you talk so much that you would drive us all silly. Your coming is quite impossible." She pleaded and eventually she was accepted and enjoyed the trip enormously. At a later time she was talking to Mother and said how wonderful it was to be talked to in a manner to which she was used in Australia, as also to meet one man who had addressed her in familiar and suitable fashion. A story told me by Granny. When first married Grandfather used every Monday morning to leave a pile of gold pounds on the mantelpiece to serve as housekeeping money for the week. This went on, either staying level or increasing, until one day there were fewer pounds than usual. Nothing was said, and when the weekly pile continued to decrease Granny started cutting down on expenses, servants etc. Then after a time the piles started to increase again, servants were reengaged and so on. But never a word was said as to why all this had happened and it was only after Grandfather’s death that she learnt from Uncle Edwin of the difficulties facing them at the time.
One of the difficulties always facing Uncle Edwin was Uncle Reggie’s jealousy, which resulted in every suggestion he made being vetoed. Thus at one time Uncle Edwin suggested repaying the preference capital of the firm. Uncle Reggie refused to allow this and in consequence the money has been lost. In earlier days uncle Hugh had made himself most unpleasant, practically accusing his brothers of trying to cheat him. Uncle was said to be nervous of spiders, refusing to sit down if there were one on the table. As I have mentioned Uncle was the complete gentleman in every sense of the word, and the only one of the family to give what one might call an aristocratic appearance. Barbara was a great admirer. She used to look forward to her elevenses with him, and considered him much the "best" of the relations. He was a most interesting person, and it is sad that he never wrote his memoirs. I have always regretted that I did not cultivate him more, but in those days I was young and enjoying the present more than the past. The first time we were in Moda after our marriage, he invited us to a long weekend on his yacht, giving us a fascinating time, and I have always thought how good it was of him. He was a keen fisherman, but always used lines as he found rods not suitable in those waters.
His son Kenny was likewise a fisherman and he did things in comfort. When staying with him in his house up the coast, we men would get up at five and go off in his boat, the Bati, to the fishing grounds, where we would disembark into a rowing boat, to fish, while the Bati returned home, to return later with the ladies on board, hooting as it approached. So, up came our lines, and we would join her, to find breakfast already served on the table, (and a very good breakfast at that). Then, after a suitable interval, fishing would recommence, until the Bati hooted again, when, on boarding, we would find drinks all ready and iced. We would now set off either for home, or for the shore if we were having a picnic, to enjoy a rest after a hard morning’s work. Uncle Kenny (his brother) was also a keen fisherman. He had a man called Haki, who enjoyed the bottle. One evening Uncle and Haki went off to spend the night on a deserted island, so as to be able to start fishing at daybreak. During the night a gale arose, and on waking up, Uncle found no Haki and no boat, and himself stranded on the island. So the morning passed and in the afternoon a rather penitent Haki turned up with the boat, to be properly sworn at, when it turned out that, after Uncle had fallen asleep he had continued drinking his raki, until the storm got up, when completely confused, by the state of affairs he felt the time had come to retire to his own bed and set off rowing back to Moda.
On waking of a morning his wife expressed surprise at seeing him at her side whereupon he suddenly came to his senses. It is an interesting illustration of the relationship between Master and Man in Turkey, that he was not sacked, while Uncle and all others regarded the incident as a sort of joke... Uncle certainly dined out on it... and nobody had any blame for Haki, the episode was just one of those human vicissitudes. A story about Aunty Gertie. She was very interested in Byzantine art etc. and when a British troop came to dig in the vicinity of the former Palace, she watched them with interest, but made herself most unpopular by telling the people that they were digging in the wrong place for what they wanted. After several failures they turned to her and rather angrily asked her where she thought they ought to dig. She pointed out the place and they got straight to onto their objective Aunt Lily was my Godmother, but I never got to know her well, she always being of a very retiring nature, and never for that matter well, presumably after the effort of having 14 children. I very much regret this failure on my part, but I was seldom in Moda. Barbara first met her at tea at Aunt Gertie's Aunty Florry was there. She had arrived in England so debilitated that she had to travel from Dover to London by ambulance. That evening lying on her bed in a state of complete exhaustion, she was offered a seat at a window in Regent Street to watch some Royal procession. She seized on this and was at her window at 9 a.m. and sat there until 1p.m., returning full of the joys of life.
A couple of days later Barbara and I went to Aunt Gertie's for tea, Barbara's first encounter with some of the Aunts. Aunt Florry was lying at full length on a couch, in a state of prostration. Sitting on the floor was Cousin Adeline Whittall, aged 83 and smoking cigarettes compounded of a mixture of tobacco and mixed herbs. (She lived in a cottage in the country alongside two other old dears from Turkey, where she told me all visitors to a meal at the cottage automatically thought they would be having roast pork by reason of the smell from her cigarettes. On our first visit to her in the country we had to taste her spring water before being allowed in. Anyhow to resume the story, Aunt Florry was on a special diet for her tea, which turned out to be far richer than what was given us. Aunty Gertie told us all about her health misfortunes, with Aunt Florry intervening from time to time with hers - both making a very good meal. The only silent one was Aunt Lily, who really looked ill, and said nothing about herself. Barbara remarked on this as soon as we had left, while I reminded her that my delicate Whittall born Aunts mostly managed to attain their nineties, despite a lifetime of ill-health.
Cousin Adeline as a girl tried to swim across the Bosphorus. Feeling tired half way across she clutched onto the nearest floating object, and with its aid reached dry land, where she found that en route she had been embracing a dead donkey. After Uncle's death his property was sold up, and is now a block of flats, as are all our houses. Moda is just a sea of high rise buildings, and even our former quail-shooting grounds are now built over, and with an abundance of cars all game has disappeared from the hills.