* * * * * In 1938 my father stepped out onto a back veranda of The British Club, with a warm glass of beer, and collapsed wearily into a significant rattan chair; dropping his cork topee onto the rattan table next to him. It was the end of the dry season, and the jungle surrounding him appeared to be holding its breath; impatiently awaiting the monsoon. The British Club. He wore a sweat-stained khaki shirt with baggy shorts; including wool knee socks with heavy, iron-toed work shoes. Oh yes, dear reader, this apparel was all the rage in the tropics of the 1930's; only “mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day sun,” with their proper tropical kit and especially their topee. ...