Madagascar and North and South Amerikee...

* * * * *

It was on the eve of the anniversary of the battle of Cressy that I
first drew breath on August 25th, "somewhere" in the Roaring Forties.
The date was well chosen, for my maternal great-great-grandfather had
amassed a considerable fortune by the manufacture of mustard, and the
happy collocation was destined to bear conspicuous fruit in after years.

Good old HERODOTUS, my favourite reading in my school-days, tells us how
old-world potentate, in order to discover which was the most ancient
language in the world, had two children brought up in strict seclusion
by dumb nurses, with the result that the first word they uttered was
"Beck," the Phrygian for bread. Strange to say this was not my first
linguistic effort, which was, as a matter of fact, the Romany word
"bop."

Although I shall probably write my autobiography again a few details
about my ancestry are pardonable at this juncture.

My great-great-great-great-grandfather was a robust Devon yeoman who
fought with DRAKE in the Spanish main, but subsequently married the
daughter of a Spanish Admiral, made captain at the time of the Armada,
Count Guzman Intimidad Larranaga. The daughter, Pomposa Seguidilla, came
to England to share her father's imprisonment, and my ancestor fell in
love with her and married her. She was a vivacious brunette with nobly
chiselled features and fine Castilian manners. Their son Alonzo married
Mary Lyte of Paddington, so that I trace my descent to the Lytes of
London as well as to the grandees of Spain.... Incredibly also I was one
of the Hopes of England.

And now, when London has no light any more, I take pen in hand to
retrace the steps of my wonderful journey through the ages. Ah me! _Eheu
fugaces!_

* * * * *

Among my early reading nothing made so much impression on me as _Mrs.
Glasse's Cookery Book_, and I still remember the roars of laughter that
went up when I read out a famous sentence in my childish way: "First
tatch your hair." Those words have stuck to me through life and have had
a deep influence on my career. Strange how little we know at the time
which are our vital moments.

* * * * *

I remember standing, when still only of tender years, listening to Bow
bells and vowing that, if I grew up, I would so reflect my life in my
writings that no experience however trifling