On one low country snipe shoot with Fred and a party of friends they decided to go to the wonderful paddy fields around Dambulla. Accordingly some days beforehand Father sent a telegram to the resthouse keeper “ Please make Rice and Curry for 10 people for lunch Sunday 10th Jan. NOT HOT”. They had their shoot and eventually tired , they arrived at the resthouse to order beers and relax. They asked the resthouse keeper if he had recieved their telegram and he confirmed that he had, so everyone was very serene, more drinks were ordered, and finally they all sat down to a well earned curry lunch. When it arrived, the food although wonderfully tasty was so hot that it was virtually uneatable. It was obvious he had used birds eye chillis to enhance the strength that blew their mouths open gasping! They complained immediately:

“Didn’t you read our telegram properly.........We said curry for 10...... NOT HOT”. “ I am sorry Sir” he replied and pulled out the actual telegram that he had recieved and it read: “ Please make curry for 10 HOT HOT”. “I have made it hot hot as you kindly requested sir..... so I am sorry you are not enjoying, but I made it to your instructions!” Everyone burst into laughter at the comedy of the situation,and the typing error and with lots of rice, banana and plain grated coconut they made the best of a bad job, and comforted themselves that they had a good yarn to tell for years to come.

As the work of planting Hugoland proceeded apace, roads were cut through the steep hillsides and across rivers to link Luckyland to Hugoland a distance of 5 miles and then on to Downside and through to Welimada by car and lorry. Before this was finally completed, the simplest way down there was as before on horse back, with a more direct route through the Sinhalese villages. Father would take sandwiches and a drink and would often sit in the shade of a large wild mango tree which grew from a bank leading down to the paddy fields, which in turn were just below the white Buddhist Temple or Pansale. On a number of occasions while he was resting in the midday heat, from the edge of the paddy field a cobra would appear at the bottom of the bank, and he would toss a small stone at the snake and it would curl up, open its hood and try and strike the stone in his temper. One day however he was spotted by a monk who summoned the head of the temple , and both came to see him.

“ We could not help noticing that you were throwing stones at our temple’s sacred cobra. He is a holy snake and remember it was said that the cobra with his hood offered shade to our Lord Buddha , as well as the Bo tree which also has leaves shaped like the cobra’s head. Unless you stop worrying our snake we will not be able to give you all the help that you willingly receive with our blessing from the villagers.”

With these harsh words taken to heart, Father in a very contrite manner tendered his apologies and ate humble pie , and once again made friends with the priests promising to respect their snake. But years later there was a similar repetition with Hugh.

Then after a few years of reasonable rains, there was a severe drought which with the strong wind in July and August wrecked havoc on the estate and bushes started dying all over the place. In a contrary twist to the story of the China Tea seed that he had been swindled over, he found in practice that those bushes stood up to the drought conditions best. Also the best grassland that he had purchased, also proved hopeless as he found it was rich on account of dolomite outcrops, which was anathema with its alkaline soil for tea. In contrast the poor ironstone cabook y rocky soil turned out to be ideal in that situation, and that was in areas that were only bought as an afterthought! Such is life that one can never be too cocksure about anything!

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