Tamaravelly Estate was owned by a very old planter who was almost blind. The property was in a most deplorably run down state, a great contrast after the hard ruthless efficiency of Gampaha and Fred Whittall. The rainfall was terrific at about 330 inches for the year that he was there. Most of it fell during the South West monsoon from May till September when being situated on the hills near Adams Peak it caught the full force of the tropical depressions and storms. To put this figure in perspective, it is about 12 times the annual rainfall for London! Most of the top soil had long been washed away, and the bushes were perched up on their roots amongst ground that was a sea of weeds. Money was desperately short, on account of bad management, so nothing could ever be done properly.Still it was a relief and a welcome change from Fred’s martinet ways. The old planter would stumble along and once a day go down to the factory in the late afternoon to hear what was going on. If the pluckers were being weighed at the end of the day, he would go amongst them and could recognise each by either their voice or by squeezing their tits. “ Ah Meenatchy” he would say as he felt her, “ How is your little boy coming on.? Has he got over his flu?” The Tamils in their respectful way all accepted this with giggles and good humour, as it had just become a daily part of the scene!
After a year of this bumbling he was lucky to get his first managerial appointment at Mottingham Estate in Maskelya, now a Division of Brunswick Estate where the rainfall was less than half and was at a nice elevation of about 4,500 ft in the centre of one of the great tea growing areas. There were a number of good planters clubs nearby with an active social life , so that he could enjoy life and play tennis, a sport that he could excel in. It was a welcome break and a chance to really partake in all the fun of upcountry life after three years of hard slog.
One of his first jobs at Mottingham was to get the accounting system organised and he worked hard at this, correlating all the estate books, until finally he worked late into the night producing a fair copy to be posted down to Whittall’s next day. He finished the copy and placed it in the drawer of his desk, only to find to his horror next morning that in the night a mouse had got in and made a nest, so he had to start all over again! The Estate looked up to the pointed sacred mountain of Adam’s Peak (7,900 ft) where at the summit is a huge footprint on the rock that the Buddhist’s say was made by Lord Buddha. There is a lit pathway and steep steps up to the summit, and the thing to do was to climb up the peak at night and watch the dawn rise. If it had been raining and cleared, the surrounding valleys would be clothed in mist and one would see the huge triangular shadow of the peak silhouetted on the snow white mist below.
The next three years were idyllic, and he could look back with pride on his accomplishments. He had come out to Ceylon just before his 18th birthday, and in spite of a lack of any formal education, had made his way well, under a peculiarly harsh taskmaster and only three years later had got his first charge when only 21 years old.
He was now fluent in English as his first language instead of French which had always been spoken at home, and was starting to read widely to build up his general knowledge. He was planting in one of the most pleasant districts in the country, with a tremendous social life , and he had at such a young age achieved his first managerial charge of a small estate. All this was soon to come to an abrupt end in August 1914 with the outbreak of the First World War. To start with the general feeling was one of excitement. There had not been a major war in Europe since Napoleonic times , a hundred years earlier. Most wanted to see a bit of action before it was too late, and few thought that it would last more than six months at the very most. Everyone was joining up to do their duty and the general atmosphere was more like trying not to miss a low country shoot, than giving serious consideration to the vast array of artillery and machine guns that had been built by firms such as Krupps and Vickers, and the destructive killing power that would inevitably ensue. The thought of a callous insatiable mincing machine that would simply devour the youth of Europe and the colonies in their millions over the next four years, was completely beyond the average mans’ comprehension. Father was just one like many in October,1914 when he decided that he must volunteer with all the other young men of his age. He wrote to Whittalls, his managing Agents in Colombo to inform them, and received back a reply which was very negative and upsetting. They said that under no circumstances would they allow him to go, as they had already made plans as to who they would require to continue the management of the estates, and he was on that list. Should he decide to depart, contrary to their advice, the consequence would be that he could not necessarily expect to have a job waiting on return, as having already gone against the wishes of the Agency, he could consider himself sacked. Nevertheless he decided to go, but had no money for the trip. He held an auction of his few possessions in Maskeliya Club and all the old planters bid ridiculous prices to help him on his way. One old planter R.K.Clarke even paid £5 for a pair of rabbits ( £500 today) and so it was that he eventually raised enough to get a steerage passage home. This meant that there was no cabin berth and one just slept on deck or anywhere one could find room. But it did not worry him. Everyone was young, and there was a tremendous excitement and abandonment amongst all the crowd that was packed on board.

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