Many years after my Father took over the organising of the garden, they had a particularly ignorant African gardener working for them. As he failed to understand anything my Mother told him, she found this extremely frustrating, but my father would say to her, "Have patience". Well, one day, when he was also having great difficulty getting the African to fetch the spray fitting for the hose and had been offered several incorrect articles, including the parrot cage, he lost his temper and started to shout at the man, only to have my Mother lean out the window to say, "Have patience, Eric. Have patience."
A story that never failed to amuse related to his meeting with the Anglican priest from St. Martin's-in-the-Veld, the church that stood next door-but-one from our home in Dunkeld. When he was questioned about his lack of attendance at the services there, he said, "Well, Padre, I may not be a very constant church goer, but I do go very regularly." At the priest's look of total incomprehension he added, "I have attended each of my children's Christening services and that means that I have been in church regularly every six years!"
Some little time after we moved to Dunkeld, my Father bought a most elaborate and intriguing radiogram. It consisted of a large, attractive timber cabinet with the radio below, behind two doors that opened like a cupboard and then, the top opened up like a lid to reveal the gramophone turntable. But what made it extraordinary was that not only did it hold up to twelve records, (or possibly more, as I no longer recollect the exact number) these were supported on their edges by an arm which enabled each record to be turned over individually, allowing for a considerable amount of music to be played without being given further attention, once the records were chosen and placed against the arm. Alternatively, it could be set so that each record only played on one side before the next record dropped down ready for its turn. Unfortunately, while we were overseas and Uncle Arthur and family were looking after the house, the main mechanism for this feat was broken. So, although after our return, we used it up in the hall above the garages for many years, it never worked automatically as far as turning the records over was concerned, but only allowed them to drop from the pile onto the turntable one at a time.