Christmas at Kaptagat was a great family time. As children we were encouraged to make our own decorations so we bought coloured paper and made yards of paper chains. We couldn’t buy glue so we made our own out of flour and water. Christmas presents were also a problem so we often made our own. For the men we drilled holes in the wooden golf tees and threaded brightly coloured wool through the holes with a tassle on the end. The point of this was that when the ball was struck the tee would be thrown some distance away and usually lost in the long grass. One of the home made decorations which was fun was filling a jug with boiling water and a couple of spoonsful of Epsom Salts, we then lowered in lengths of wool or string. As it cooled the crystals formed on the string and were quite glittery.

Dinner in the evening was set up on the back verandah with the tables in a sort of “U” shape round the pillars.  Grownups were  seated alternately with children. My parents often came and various others at different times. Christmas pudding always had fifty cents pieces (small silver coins similar to a sixpence ) wrapped in newspaper and hidden in it. The grey parrot was allowed to strut around the table, taking sips from the glasses and getting somewhat drunk. There were nuts and raisins and chocolates and much singing. My father was always called upon to sing various songs – ‘Cafusalem’, ‘The Darkies Sunday School’ or to recite the ‘The Nancy Bell’, ‘The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God’ and many more. At some stage we would disappear to bed and leave them to it. In the morning we would also do family things – sometimes  this was three-club golf. We were divided into teams of three, two adults and one child or two children and one adult. Each member of the team had one club – an iron, a putter and a driver. The driver tee-ed off but thereafter the clubs had to be used in strict rotation so that one might find oneself putting with a driver. It was great fun. The losing team bought the drinks.

One Christmas, when I was about 6 years old, my parents took me on a camping trip in our old boxbody car. I remember that there were canvas roll up sides at the back. I slept on a mattress in the back and when I woke up on Christmas morning there was a stocking hanging on the metal upright. It sticks in my memory so it must have been special.

Into our teens, Neville and I spent our time looking after the horses and other animals and often going into the Eldoret Sports Club for dances – always escorted by Zoe. Our dresses were usually made of cotton print, full length and made by the local Goan tailor. One just showed him a picture and said “Make a dress like that” and he produced something similar. We usually got invited to the dances by the various young farmers around but would then be abandoned for other more interesting partners. The Tweedie Brothers were quite the most sought after and glamorous; John, Douglas and Bruce (very handsome). Zoe sat at the bar and chatted her way through the evening. She drove us home in the early hours, often through pouring rain and we often got stuck. Neville and I would have to tuck our skirts up round our waists and get out into the mud and push. They were happy times.

During the war the New Lincoln Hotel in Eldoret was turned into a convalescent home for the Navy and Zoe would invite about twenty four of the most active men to Kaptagat Farm for a day. Neville and I were designated to look after them and take them out riding. It was a hazardous job but they all seemed to enjoy themselves, although I don’t know what they made of these two fifteen and seventeen year old girls dressed in khaki shorts! In the evening we often went up to the Kaptagat Arms to dance. The belle of the ball was Kitty Knight, wife of Harland Knight who worked for the Fosters I think. She was Welsh and had dark curly hair and was very pretty. We played polo at the club at the weekends and many of the local farmers came to these games. A few owned horses and others were mounted by the Fosters. The entire assembly would be invited to the Fosters for lunch afterwards. The wooden tables at the bottom of the garden would be covered in white cloths and a great feast of cold beef etc would be carted down by the servants and set out under the trees. The river ran close by and Zoe had a huge area of violets growing behind the tables. Great bunches of these were sent in to Eldoret for sale, along with fruit from the orchards and vegetables as well.

The Fosters’ hospitality was legendary. The garden was  magnificent and of course there was the attraction of all the birds and tame animals, chimps etc. Folk staying at the Kaptagat Arms were always invited to come down and stroll around whenever they pleased. Neville and I were delegated to take people from the hotel riding when requested. On one occasion we were asked to find a quiet horse for a Major Beryl. He had had a nasty accident in the UK that winter.vHis horse had strayed onto the surface of a pond, the ice had broken and the horse fell through, throwing major Beryl into the water.vEvery time he surfaced the struggling animal had kicked him down and he was nearly drowned by the time rescue came for them both. He had completely lost his nerve but was now persuaded to try to go for a quiet hack with the two young ladies to accompany him. We gave him a large fat horse called Pig who was entirely reliable and very lazy and we took him on several long peaceful rides. It was on one of these that Neville made one of her many faux pas. Major Beryl was about 30, very polite and well bred. On this particular ride we were going along a forest path, Neville in the lead, Major Beryl following and I was bringing up the rear. We never conversed much and so we were just ambling along and enjoying the quiet of the forest when Pig decided to let off several loud blasts of wind. It went on for some time and I watched Major Beryl’s neck growing redder and redder. At last he stammered out “I say, I am most awfully sorry about that” to which Neville replied airily “Oh that’s quite all right – I thought it was the horse!”   She never lived that down. Poor Neville. On another occasion at the Kaptagat bar, after playing polo, we were teasing Simon Rowan about his  ample paunch. Neville, who may even have been engaged to him by then, leaned over and said, patting it fondly, “I like his copulation”!

During the war years women had taken the men’s places in playing polo and once in, there was no way to get us out, so we made up teams and played all over the Colony. Zoe, Patricia Stitt, Neville and I made a team at one time and won various cups. I particularly remember a match at Naivasha which lasted three days. Neville, Pat and I were the only “girls” who played at that time, all the other women being married adults. We were dressed in khaki jodhpurs made by are local Indian tailor, whereas the other  ladies who played all had the proper gear from the UK, including knee length riding boots. They rode thoroughbreds most of which were about 17 hands at the shoulder. We, on the other hand, were mounted on our little ponies from the riding school at Kaptagat – but they were very light in the mouth and beautifully schooled (by us mostly!) but with soft mouths so that the school children could easily control them. They were fast and nippy and we were very robust, unladylike players.

To our astonishment we won all our early matches and ended up in the finals. The opposing ladies team all wore white britches for the finals but we had had to wash our khaki jodhpurs the night before and they weren’t even dry, so we appeared for breakfast at the Naivasha Hotel in damp britches. It all caused a good deal of mirth, but we discovered that we were strongly backed by our opponents’ husbands! There was no doubt who they wanted to win. After the first chukka, Tom Upton, one of the  husbands came up to me and said “Don’t you take any notice of Susie, if she’s losing she’ll start moaning about her back or even turning on the tears, you just ignore her and ride her off the ball!”. This I did, although it was quite difficult since my shoulder was only about half way up her great horse. Nevertheless, we were able to turn on a sixpence and be galloping the opposite way while these ladies were still reigning in their mounts. It was a great fight and we won the cup. This was presented by the Governor, Sir Evelyn Baring, I think. At any rate I do remember Zoe being so flustered when he came over to be introduced to us that she stammered out  “This is Sir … sir … Leslie Howard!”, her favourite film star I suppose. They were great times, staying with various families and attending dances on the Saturday nights. There was one particularly handsome player, whose name I have forgotten, but he was very swarthy, had a wonderful figure and rode a palomino pony. He was a very good player and a good dancer and proposed to both Neville and I on the  same night! He later married a nice woman with three children and I was going to say lived happily ever after, but funnily  enough I met him in Tanzania many years later. He looked strangely different – sort of softer round the face and his hair was slightly curly and not sleeked back as I remember it. We had coffee together and he told me that he had never really taken to women – it was all bravado – he really wanted to be a woman and with his wife’s help and agreement he was in the process of making that change. When the medics had finally finished with him/her they planned to go and live in South Africa as two sisters looking after their children. Later, when Neville and I went on to marry and live elsewhere, the ‘All Fosters’ made up a team, consisting of  Robert, Francis and Mary with Zoe.