Memories of Gerry: Joan Herivel

Gerald Durrell had just dictated a passage for 'The Amateur Naturalist' which the publishers needed urgently when Lee asked if I could take some dictation from her. 

“I will just go and type up this gubbins, then I will come up to your office,” I said. 

“GUBBINS!” roared my boss, with an enormous grin, “I have just dictated some deathless prose, and she calls it gubbins!” 

This was the nature of the relationship which I had with the Honorary Director and his wife (Big Boss and Little Boss) for seventeen happy years. 

In 1977, when I began work as Mr. D’s secretary, I took dictation in shorthand and used an electric typewriter. There were no word processors, and should a typed text – sometimes involving several pages – need amendment, it had to be redone, which was quite nerve-wracking when a deadline had to be met. 

Mr. D could be dictating a humorous passage for a book, whilst I tried not to laugh but concentrate on my notes. Shorthand outlines for some zoological terms were quite often challenging! 

Large envelopes containing a pile of painstakingly written letters from a class of schoolchildren, who were reading 'My Family and Other Animals' or 'The Fantastic Flying Journey', would frequently arrive and, if time permitted, they would receive a personal reply.  He was particularly touched to receive letters from adults who had only recently learned to read and write – on one occasion, I remember he replied, sending a signed paperback of 'My Family and Other Animals'. 

My duties also included taking minutes at Board of Management and Council Meetings. Should my boss be in the Chair, he would decorate his Agenda with his sought-after animal drawings. How I wish that I had collected some of them!  I was also called upon to take minutes at a day-long meeting of the newly formed Captive Breeding Specialist Group, which was quite taxing; however, there was a most lively lunch break at the Durrells’ flat, which relieved the tension a little for me. 

There were times when I was also called upon to type documents or correspondence for Mr. D’s Personal Assistant, John Hartley, or for the Zoological Director, Jeremy Mallinson; on rare occasions, for other senior staff members, when my previous training in deciphering strange handwriting was very useful! 

Big Boss and Little Boss were frequently away, either at their house in France, where he would be working on a book, or on trips to Mauritius or Madagascar, where the Trust was involved with conservation projects.  During one of these absences, I was entrusted with the care of Lee’s pet tarantula, Paterson, who lived in a large cage in her office. One of the keepers would bring me a little box containing a cricket, and I would have to open the cage and give it to Paterson. As a lifelong arachnophobe, I am quite proud of the fact that I was able to do it. Unfortunately, I eventually had to report Paterson’s demise. On going to feed him one day, I discovered that one brave cricket had turned the tables on his predator and was happily munching away on the corpse. 

When HRH The Princess Royal had agreed to lay the foundation stone for the new Princess Royal Pavilion, a meeting at Buckingham Palace was arranged, to be attended by the Durrells and the Trust Secretary, Simon Hicks. I don’t remember why, but at the last minute, it proved impossible to arrange for them to use any of the scheduled flights to London.  A small chartered plane was booked, and as there was a spare seat, I was able to use it, thereby being able to visit my recently born granddaughter. 

When the ceremony eventually took place, a canister containing a message from Mr. D for any future excavators was to be buried under the foundation stone. On the previous day, this precious package was installed, under supervision, in the safe in my office. The next morning, again under discreet supervision, I carried it across the lawns to the prepared site in an unremarkable plastic carrier bag. 

I did not meet The Princess Royal, but she used my fountain pen to sign the Visitors’ Book in the boardroom. 

A great fan of amateur dramatics, Mr. D came to see me perform in a Women’s Institute pantomime when I acted as the Dame. He sat in the front row with Lee, heartily joining in the singing. He later had to explain the intricacies of pantomime to his bemused American-born wife: that the principal boy was always played by a girl and the dame usually by a man, but in this case by me. He congratulated me afterwards with a hug, saying, “Dear, you were the best!” 

Following his investiture with the OBE at Buckingham Palace, it was secretly arranged for my boss to be the subject of the television programme, ‘This is Your Life’. Setting this up involved many phone calls with the television personnel, once when the boss was standing right beside me in the office, which was difficult. He believed that he would be meeting a member of Council for a celebratory lunch, but instead, he was accosted by Eamon Andrews bearing the little red book. Together with some other members of staff, I had been invited to take part – fortunately, I was not required to say anything. It was an amazing experience when I met Sir Peter Scott (who had written a few aide-memoires on his shirt cuff!), the lovely actress Dina Sheridan, Brian Bell, in charge of wildlife conservation in Australia, and Dr Theodore Stephanides, his beloved mentor from his early childhood in Corfu. 

Whenever Big Boss and Little Boss returned to Jersey after one of their long absences, on my arrival at work I would see that the door of the flat at the top of the stairs was open and I knew that I could shortly expect a phone call: “Joan dear, could you please come up with your little book” – these were the times I loved best. 

I would occasionally find little notes on my typewriter, perhaps thanking me for staying late and, once, on return from my holiday, saying “we missed you”.  However, I treasure most the fact that he called me T.B.S.I.T.W. – The Best Secretary in the World. No secretary could ever ask for more. 

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