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Extracts from a Diary
by Amelia Bourne-Phipps
-edited by Simon Barber-
17 April, 1937 to 18 April, 1937



Saturday 17th April, 1937

A far brighter day than yesterday and one we resolved to make the most of. After nine hours wonderful sleep (such a sweet thing to get, we shall miss it sorely) we headed out to Casino Island, with Mrs. H and Moeli waving us farewell. Moeli is getting definitely round now, and will be adding another kitten to the family before either Helen or I get the chance to marry into it.  If the Spontoonies posed for family photographs it might be difficult as her husband is one of the Natives of No Island and they are notoriously camera-shy. I keep wondering how the locals handle their paperwork at the Registry of Births, Marriages and Deaths on Meeting Island. Do they have special locked drawers with everything written in Spontoonie, or do they just avoid the risk of exposure and ignore paperwork entirely?

    The islands look very clean in the sunshine after yesterday’s rain; a fine bracing breezy day that makes one want to jump into a sailing boat. We had a lively time on choppy waves crossing in the water taxi (Helen says she has not missed this part of Spontoon life one little bit) and soon were back on the Northern side of Casino Island with the dance class getting ready. It was quite packed, with a lot of natives and “Natives” who only actually wear grass skirts in tourist season, even though they may be Nimitz Sea locals. Some are from Orpington, Mildendo and suchlike islands where furs generally wear plain shirts and working overalls on docks and plantations, rather than paw-woven skirts and flower leis.
 
    It was rather embarrassing; Mrs. Motorabhe our Dance teacher had the four of us up to perform, and was quite loud in our praises of “the Palm Sway”. Having furs who were born a hundred miles or so away told to learn from us was rather a shock to both us and them, I believe. Still, we have had over two years’ practice at local dancing and I suppose we are fitter than almost anyone else around, which certainly helps.

    Jasbir and her dorm are not with us yet at dance class: we have seen Jasbir and Sophie around but they are presumably recovering from their efforts on Gull Island, and Jasbir mentioned Irma Bundt is due to arrive today from Switzerland. Unlike most European Songmark girls, I think she always went home for the holidays – except for the long summer breaks most of us prefer to spend the travel time and money nearer Spontoon. No more! It is rather a strange feeling knowing tomorrow is the last time we will all be meeting up.
 
    Two hours of hard and strenuous dance had most furs definitely panting and drooping – by twelve we were very glad to do the traditional dash across the road, over the beach and in to bathe! The water in April is not tropical, but very welcome after such exercise. We had the beach to ourselves; apart from one party of three or four with a picnic basket the sands were empty. In a month or two there will be tourists lined up with cameras eager to see the dance class running onto the beach with Leis and grass skirts flying, and secretly hoping the costumes will have an “in-flight structural failure.”

    Thinking of tourists returning, it was rather a coincidence that I mentioned Moeli to one of our friends at the dance class, a dark-furred ewe called Aatohi. She works in a hotel here and could tell me about the one tourist on the beach, a mouse who is decidedly in Moeli’s condition though embarrassingly without a husband. Three Spontoonie males of various species were being very agreeable to her, and indeed she is being treated as quite the belle of the ball much to her amazement. It seems the lady was here in August and (as is not unknown) carried home from the islands a souvenir she did not have to declare to Customs. On her return trip she is being courted by several local gentlemen, who are astonished that no Euro has done so at the sight of her. I did overhear one of them saying his mother and sisters would love to meet her.

    Molly came out with a proverb about a wise farmer not buying a field unless he has seen crops growing on it regardless of who ploughed the field beforehand. Spontoonies quite agree about such things, for which a year ago I had cause to be very glad. Certainly we have met Spontoonies who have “arrived” in circumstances that would shock my teachers back at Saint Winifred’s. I expect if she wants, the murine lady can have anything from a paper marriage certificate back-dated to August, to a permanent place in a longhouse with a family who are not worried that her first-born will probably not look like the rest of the family.  By all accounts a millionaire cannot buy a Spontoon citizenship but a penniless girl has other ways to get one. It has become a lot stricter since Countess Rachorska arrived in much the same condition in 1918, but the Spontoon islands were not deluged with tour-boats back then carrying thousands of holiday-makers who might want to stay. Indeed, twenty packed tour-boats including their crew are about the same as the current population of the islands.

    Back into Euro costume and to the Euro restaurants – ham and eggs is such a rare treat at Songmark, and generally only appear as part of the “flight breakfast” before something too nerve-wracking for us to really enjoy the meal. Just being able to take an hour over lunch is such a treat (grilled Portobello mushrooms! Fried bread!) – Molly was almost cross-eyed in wonder as she contemplated spending the rest of the day on the beach with a crate of Nootnops Blue, if she really wanted to. She decided against it, but we all understand it is so nice to have the option. An hour on the beach and one bottle apiece was voted for by and seconded by Helen and Maria, and they headed out to put the plan into action.
 
    Actually, if anyone was watching the ladies’ powder room of the restaurant closely they would have had a surprise – as Amelia Bourne-Phipps went in and fifteen minutes later Kim-Anh Soosay walked out, dressed quite differently. Helen took home the bag with the clothes I walked in with, and I wore the silk outfit I was given at the Allworthy’s house on Krupmark. I wonder what happened to their marsupial maid and dresser, Judy? She was in on the plot to deceive me about Leon Allworthy being a harmless old gent ruled by his wicked sister, but seeing who her employers were and the island she was working on, irritating them by giving the game away might not have been a good move for her. Things happen to employees on Krupmark worse than being thrown out without a reference. She was quite right about Leon’s wicked sister – I have heard things since then about the previous Lady Allworthy that scarcely bear recording.

    Fortunately the house Malou lives in is only a few streets away, and there are no tourists about. Not the tour-boat kind at least, though some Euro gentlemen of the loden-cloth or tropical twill costumed Adventuring types were very attentive as I went by. I found myself waving back – it would be hypocrisy of the worst kind to put on a dress like this and then be insulted that some gentleman notices it. Mind you, I was grateful Malou does not live too near the China Dock end of town.

    By three o’clock I was sitting at her table drinking green tea while she constructively criticised my fur-pattern, clothing and most importantly how I wore it. She is quite unimpressed by the outfit, and says I could learn what she has to teach wearing a potato sack. Certainly she is a hard task-mistress, and gives excellent value for one Shell! Two hours of coaching in move and manners earned her grudging nod, and left me as tired in a way as the far more energetic dance classes earlier on.

    Malou works just as hard teaching as I try to learning, and seemed very grateful for the break and more tea. Her kitten – or her child, I should say, as it is not pure feline – was awake and needing to be fed, which she let me help with. As far as I physically could, naturally. She winked and said her husband would be returning soon – and dressed as I was, might greatly appreciate finding me here. She had intimated before that she is not the jealous type.

    Naturally I had to be off anyway, but I think my eyes might have glazed over somewhat at the prospect – it is nothing I am ever going to do, naturally (I hope to be reunited with Jirry next week however briefly) . Still – I hope to be Tailfast in two months time and beyond the range of such “adventures”. I could not avoid my tail twitching as I recalled my encounter with Mr. M’wede in Macao – and Malou’s husband is apparently of a similar species, though he hails from the Fillypines rather than Africa. It might be a good idea next time to bring species specific precautions with me – just in case. I had no prior intention of having such an encounter with Mr. M’wede either, and Songmark girls are definitely encouraged to think ahead.

    It would be very embarrassing indeed to see the yacht “Scimitar” anchored off Eastern Island and a certain Onager gentleman turning up with a bouquet of flowers and enquires after my health and … family circumstances. As far as he knows I could have reason to be very pleased to see him, three months later.

    On the return trip I was glad it was Spontoon in Spring and not London, and not because many of the locals were wearing less than me. A single layer of silk over the fur feels very smooth but it is rather minimal insulation. The good thing about being in dyed fur is only folk who really know me are likely to recognise me – to the rest I might just be an exotic dancer from Casino Island on a stroll between rehearsals.

    I was the last one back at the Hoele’toemi household, and a relaxing evening followed. Jirry’s ship is three days away; Mrs. H is looking forward to its return if anything more than I am, as she has both her husband and son to welcome home. Helen is the lucky one – though naturally Marti and Jonni are keen to see their brother home after what we assume was a long and risky voyage. It was certainly long enough.

    Molly has much the same to look forward to – she says she has heard from Lars, who does indeed send her postcards from exotic places – in the past six months she has had stamps from Bora Bora, Vanierge, Mixteca and Argentina.  Evidently her stag has been busy. But he is back on Krupmark, which is within reach.  It is certainly awhile since their paths crossed. Like the rest of us she is thinking about what to do after she graduates or finishes Songmark, at any rate – we have learned to assume nothing. Certainly we are not likely to get the chance to see him much in term-time – in fact we have already written off the next three months. That chocolate cake was the last treat we will have for the foreseeable future – except for Helen, who retired early with Marti to the guest longhouse.
 
   
Sunday 18th April, 1937
   
A very spring-like day; Molly, Maria and myself had promised ourselves we would enjoy a long luxurious lie-in as the last one we will probably get as Songmark students – but the light woke us early and indeed all the village girls are up and about just after dawn. Sleeping in late is a very “Euro” thing to do.

    There is never any shortage of things to do at Haio Beach. We joined some of the neighbours reef fishing off the South Coast with outrigger canoes and nets. The canoes are quite plain; they will go into the village boathouse at the end of the month and the elaborately carved and painted Polynesian canoes will replace them for tourist season.  Certainly some of the freshly repainted designs on the tourist “traditional” boats are so eye-catchingly bold one can well believe they would scare the fish. We had some success with the fishing and trotted back with our catch to the Hoele’toemi household – even Moeli was fishing strenuously, though one might have thought her better advised to stay at home until her kitten is born. She just laughed when I mentioned it, and recounted tales of some of her friends just working in the fields till the last day, or even delivering the kitten there and then. Definitely the Spontoons are a poor business opportunity for high-priced consulting midwives. One hears that a midwife’s secondary skill is discretion, and around here the locals seem immune to scandal.

    Saimmi was there when we returned, and put Helen and me through a definitely strenuous bout of Warrior Priestess training. Although it is more of a parlour trick than anything, at least now we will never be short of ability to make a fire. Doing it in such a way is about as much effort as cutting down a tree and whittling out a matchstick with a pocket knife though – apart from ceremonial occasions such as lighting the solstice fires,  Saimmi says priestesses use flint and steel or matches like anyone else. It is a good thing Molly is not learning this – she would be in endless temptation, and at risk of dangerously wearing herself out. It is far easier to make a fire by rubbing two sticks together, and we found out in the first year what an awful job that is even given textbook conditions and perfectly suited woods (hard and dense like holly or mahogany for the drill, soft and splintery like willow or pitch pine for the block, and with dried fungus for tinder.)

    At least that is one secret I will not have to worry about leaking out – it is quite impossible to write down what we do in our Warrior Priestess training – rather like the classic comparison of a blind fur trying to learn about different colours from a Braille book. Writing a thicker and more comprehensive book would not really help. Having seen some radically different “styles” of such things, it surprises me that they all work more or less; we described to Saimmi more or less what Minden, Riss and Wurm did in Antarctica which was effective in a sort of sledgehammer way. Brute force and ignorance, might better describe it – but with enough brute force one can move mountains and indeed their approach somehow seemed to expect far more energy would be available from somewhere; more than the three of them actually had. Getting it is another matter; as the saying goes, being a millionaire is easy if one only has the money.

    Luncheon was excellent and came as a surprise – Molly and Maria cooked the whole meal themselves! Of course all Songmark girls learn to cook well enough to avoid hunger in their first year, but Molly and Maria are generally content to open a can of beans and a can of corned beef, mix, heat and serve.  Molly has even been happy enough with Maconochie, given a decent batch (the military sub-contractors varied heinously in what actually went into the tin) and being served a well cooked traditional leaf and clay-wrapped baked fish with yam was quite an experience. It just goes to show; even at this late stage my friends are full of surprises. Mrs. H. can surely use a break, and happy to report the meal was perfectly edible.
 
    Then – Helen and Marti vanished off for an hour, “packing up” as she said though I know all our Songmark kit has been ready since yesterday.  Saimmi reassured me that should our Tutors throw me out, there is a place for a trainee Warrior Priestess here – which is one piece of reassurance to take with me today. We need everything we can get, heaven knows.  It was an uncomfortable feeling, rather like waiting to go into an exam. By three o’clock all of us were dressed in our Songmark uniforms again, with the three barred notes on our collar and shoulder patches, saying farewell to the Hoele’toemi family. The mile or so across South Island to the ferry dock had rarely seemed so long, and there was more than one wistful look back between us. I recall our early holidays when we actually had two weeks of holiday on Spontoon rather than being sent off on trips.

    Songmark was still there and waiting – the first two years had been back since last week. The final term is staggered somewhat to help with the exams at the end of it. So it was Florence’s dorm who were on gate guard to welcome us in – Florence Farmington and the Australian girl Kate, whose family had to leave Perth when the area became New South Sion.  I did not mention seeing a “mongrelled” fur dyed Florence walking with Gilda the huntress but if she wants to tell me about it I will be interested to hear the story. In five minutes we were putting our kit away in our old dorm – it seems somehow smaller than I remember it.
 
    We are certainly back with a vengeance and the Tutors are not planning on wasting a minute. On each of our beds was a sheaf of mimeographed papers with the timetable for the term – at least, three weeks of it. After that we will presumably stop taking new classes and spend the rest of term demonstrating what we have learned so far.  Molly just gave a groan and flopped down on the bed carefully – and indeed there was a fine collection of drooping ears and tails.
 
    At least we were all in the same boat, so to speak – I heard sounds of lamentation next door and noted that Jasbir’s dorm are back. Li Han just made it in time, her connection from Kuo Han being delayed by a typhoon sweeping across the area. In fact everyone is back; even Adele Beasley has returned alive and apparently well from Krupmark where she was apparently a guest of a most alarming resident living high “up the hill” from Fort Bob. Even I have heard of Miss Chartwell. Molly has been to Krupmark more and heard much of her via Lars, and I can hardly imagine anyone going to stay with her given the choice.

    Back to Songmark food! Not Poi for a change, though everyone seemed to have resupplied with various sauces anticipating our usual weekend dish. There was pastefish though, which is the protein equivalent. Adding my fish sauce (anchovy) to the fish dish might seem an odd idea, but pastefish is generally dried and fed to chickens rather than people for good reason. Perhaps Liberty Morgenstern has been complaining about our life of luxury again. As a fact, a Songmark girl develops a digestion like a blast furnace and though we may grumble anything edible put in front of us goes down fast. The second-years are tucking in with the promise of hard work ahead of them – they are taking over our gate guard duty and will be spending many a relaxing three o’clock in the morning wandering around Songmark’s luxurious fences in the rain.

    We had an hour or so to catch up with everyone. Nobody seems to have had any trips quite as extreme as ours – though Prudence and co were half the distance South themselves back to Yip-Yap island to clear up that case with the forged solid “Millstone” currency – and indeed they have to have as “social” a time as Jasbir and her sister. The difference is, presumably they will not be worrying if their Precautions had proved sufficient.  We have looked at the stories sent in from previous Songmark graduates, keeping us up to date on how their careers are  progressing – a couple of graduates produced children rather less than nine months after graduating. Although we are expecting the final tests to be as strenuous as a Berlin Olympic games with us entered for every event, evidently Mrs. Oelabe becomes somewhat pragmatic in the final Songmark term.

    It is certainly something to think about – something Beryl told us as soon as we arrived today happened to be true. All Songmark is invited to a wedding; that Russian member of Red Dorm Tatiana is getting married on Tuesday, on Casino Island. Molly hit the roof when she found out to whom.

    (Later) It is half an hour to lights-out but we have managed to get everything done we really need, and from now on we know that half an hour’s sleep will be like half a bar of gold. Farewell to the final hours of our last holiday!


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