My father studied accountancy in Glasgow.  When he became “articled” (qualified) he applied for a job at Deloittes in London.  They were one of the top accountancy firms.  He got the job, but within a week he was told he was being posted to Argentina.  It was like that in those days!

​

He became a firm member of the Scottish community, and more then once gave the Address at the BA Burns supper.

​

In 1949 they moved to Chile to work for Duncan Fox in Vina del Mar, and in 1954 they moved to Lima, Peru to work for Price Waterhouse, and they rented a house in Av Santa Cruz, Miraflores.

​

We had a Rover 75, a Ford Zephyr, and a big Ford station wagon.

​

My mother didn't work, it was not expected of a middle-class woman in those days.  She did good works, wrote a book about Peruvian flowers, did silver-work (I have a nice set of silver coffee spoons she made), payed bridge, etc.

​

In about 1970 they decided that the Peruvian government would force them to repatriate all their investments to Peru, and they decided to sell up and go to Argentina.  There they occupied themselves house-sitting for people on long trips to Europe, and living with my granny, which could be stressful.  Then they bought a nice first floor flat in Rivercourt Road, just off King Street in Hammersmith.

​

Then in 1973 my mother died suddenly after 2 weeks in hospital in BA of hepatitis (don't know how she got it, and had no history of it).  I was not very close to her, but her death shook me quite a lot. She was a very correct, well brought up, person.

​

My father was a nice man, as evidenced by the close friendship Oscar developed with him.  Having spent time in Argentina, he was never surprised at the price of things.  He was interested in current affairs, but never judged anything.  His attitude was "The ways of men are many, but the gates of heaven are wide".  I have tried, but I can't quite match his detachment.  I think Oscar and George take more after him. 

​

In 1978 Scotland qualified for the football World Cup, to be held in Argentina, and somehow my father was appointed as the players' Liaison Officer, because he was a BA scotsman who sort of spoke Spanish, although he had just a passing interest in football.  The team was based at Alta Gracia, near Cordoba.  If one of the team, for example, needed some hair oil, Ian was your man to get it from the shops.  He particularly liked Kenny Dalglish (always reading a book) and Gordon McQueen.  He did not much like the Scottish officials, out on a great freebie.  They flew first class, while the players were in second class.  Anyway, Scotland didn't win. 

​

My father would spend more or less 4 months with Clinton Poore, an old friend, on his farm in northern Corrientes, 4 months in Hammersmith, and 4 months staying in Alison & Harry's large house in Lima.

​

When he was almost 90 he went into a German community home with which Harry was associated.  There he had a bedroom, a sitting room, and a bathroom, with two of his own nurses who would be with him 24 hours per day, at a cost of about 2 good restaurant meals per week.  I visited him whilst he was there - he was quite happy, and the other guests enjoyed him playing the piano.  Once or twice, though, his mind would get confused, and he thought his dreams were reality.  He died in 1999, when Oscar (who was very fond of him) was actually flying out to visit him.

​

He was cremated, and Alison brought the ashes to England for me to take them, eventually, to BA to scatter them on the family grave with my mother, granny and grandfather Matthews, and uncle Leslie.  This was one of the reasons for me and Amber taking a 9 week holiday to BA in 2008.  Oscar came out for 2 weeks, and we went together to the British cemetery in Chacarita to do it.  Afterwards we went to a nice restaurant for lunch, and Oscar had a quiet word with the waiter, who brought us 4 gin and tonics, one each, and one for Ian.  A treasured memory.