I might reiterate that I was a total mid-western American. The only fish I had eaten before the summer of 1965, when I married into an English family, was Lake Erie perch. The rice I ate was mostly rice pudding. Life in London was a life enriched by students from all over the British Empire. Until about this time, if you lived in the colonies you had a right to come to England. The building in which we were staying was comprised of many Indian families, quite a few Pakistani couples, several from Guyana (British) in South America, and one young, green, American couple (us!).
We soon made friends with a young fellow from Guyana named Derek. He was great! He and Eric hit it off well, and Derek included us with his other Guyanese friends. Derek was a student at the nearby university--and engineering student like Eric. But many of his other friends were learning to be tailors on in famous companies throughout London. Shops in Soho, Carnaby Street, etc. were the top of the fashion world for men back then. One evening they all got talking and decided they would love to make sure Eric had a London tailored sport coat. They would do it themselves for basically the cost of materials. They figured they could handle this for only $200--a total bargain at that time! But we were poor college students. We talked it over, decided that while this was "a steal" we would have forego to the honor. I have often regretted our decision. But Eric would probably have had to wear the same jacket for a decade to offset using that portion of our budget!
Derek told us about his first days in London. He came from a town in Guyana. There, in the tropics, the only chimney he had ever seen belonged to the local bakery. When he got to London and saw all the chimneys he thought to himself, "Man! Look at all these bakeries!" We laughed a lot as we talked over initial impressions in new places.
Derek was engaged to a young woman from his home town. She, too, was in London. L. was tiny, cute, bubbly, and very practical. As their wedding day approached, we received an invitation. We also were willing to help in any way we could--after all, we had only been married one year ourselves. Well, we were taken up on the offer. I helped at the florist--totally out of my league!!! I did not know what was proper in London and was a bit overwhelmed to learn that I would help pick out the greens, etc., and then also help arrange them for the reception!
The reception was to be held in the Victorian dining area of the hotel we lived in. The hotel had seen grander days and this was still evident in a dusty, worn out way. One of Derek's other student friends was somehow related the the hotel, restaurant, chef field. From him I learned to cut vegetables to be pretty (we basically sliced them on a plate in Lafayette, Indiana in the 60's), and arrange all the other food.
The wedding was held in an Anglican church near the London University. For USA mid-west weddings at this time, men wore white dinner jackets in the summer. Not in London! Here it was pin-striped tux with tails and a formal, British tie. Very posh, as Auntie Dorothy would say. Someone had rented or borrowed a long, vintage, convertible Rolls Royce for the bride and groom. It was driven by the Major. As befits a world-class city and college students, the rest of us walked to the church and then back to the hotel for the reception. Another first for me: all the toasting with champagne, the formality of a London reception, and the fun of getting to clean it all up afterwards! British humor, which takes some adapting to, was abundant that day!
Derek and his wife later moved to Toronto, Canada. We visited their family in 1972 when we were attending the Toronto Institute of Linguistics in preparation for moving to Africa.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
#5 1966 London Tidbits
London in the 60's. It was the world city of the decade. Everything revolved around London. Clothing styles (think Twiggy--the ultra-thin model in mini-skirts), music (Beatles!!), business, and construction (there were cranes all over town). While Eric worked each day, and saw London through the eyes of Harris and Sutherland engineer consultants, I walked the streets of London and figured out what Eric should see in the evenings and weekends.
I was learning to knit, so I would sit in St. James Park part of the day and watch the birds and huge variety of ducks (some would sit back in the water and fight with their feet). I would people watch, have conversations with some people and definitely try to avoid others!
Many mornings I would trot over to Buckingham Palace to watch the main changing of the guard which happened very day back then. This would also involve a concert by the military band, and one time I heard a whole concert of Beatles songs. It was fairly easy back then to get positioned to see everything. I knew just where to stand if I preferred being near the horses when they paraded down the street from the stables to the Palace. This made it all the more personal when I heard of the horrible bombing along there years later in 1982. I could not believe anyone would want to bomb those beautiful creatures (or their riders).
I also wandered through stores and anywhere free. The paid entries were saved until Eric was along. I enjoyed Harrod's and Selfridges. Back then, department stores had wonderful dining room restuarants that were about the cheapest place to eat in town. They not only had good food, the tables were set with white linen tablecloths and cloth napkins. I learned to love plaice (fish), but never did like the hard, dried and reconstituted round green things the British called peas! I learned to eat properly, with my fork and knife never leaving my hands (fork held tines downward in my left hand, knife in the right). I even managed the good form of mashing my peas and potatoes on the back of my fork!
London is full of theaters with all manner of plays and musicals. I researched, then Eric and I would buy the absolutely cheapest tickets. Sometimes that meant sitting in "nose bleed" territory in the uppermost balcony. Sometimes that meant SRO tickets. I did not know what that stood for but soon learned--standing room only. You have to be young and broke to want to stand for the whole musical or play! We were both.
I was learning to knit, so I would sit in St. James Park part of the day and watch the birds and huge variety of ducks (some would sit back in the water and fight with their feet). I would people watch, have conversations with some people and definitely try to avoid others!
Many mornings I would trot over to Buckingham Palace to watch the main changing of the guard which happened very day back then. This would also involve a concert by the military band, and one time I heard a whole concert of Beatles songs. It was fairly easy back then to get positioned to see everything. I knew just where to stand if I preferred being near the horses when they paraded down the street from the stables to the Palace. This made it all the more personal when I heard of the horrible bombing along there years later in 1982. I could not believe anyone would want to bomb those beautiful creatures (or their riders).
I also wandered through stores and anywhere free. The paid entries were saved until Eric was along. I enjoyed Harrod's and Selfridges. Back then, department stores had wonderful dining room restuarants that were about the cheapest place to eat in town. They not only had good food, the tables were set with white linen tablecloths and cloth napkins. I learned to love plaice (fish), but never did like the hard, dried and reconstituted round green things the British called peas! I learned to eat properly, with my fork and knife never leaving my hands (fork held tines downward in my left hand, knife in the right). I even managed the good form of mashing my peas and potatoes on the back of my fork!
London is full of theaters with all manner of plays and musicals. I researched, then Eric and I would buy the absolutely cheapest tickets. Sometimes that meant sitting in "nose bleed" territory in the uppermost balcony. Sometimes that meant SRO tickets. I did not know what that stood for but soon learned--standing room only. You have to be young and broke to want to stand for the whole musical or play! We were both.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Post #4 Arrival in London
There has been too great a gap since the last time I wrote. It is hard to live to the fullest in 2010, and try to delve into 1966! Eric and I traveled from Southampton to London and spent a day or two at a Methodist guest house--the name and exact location escape me. It was not far from South Kensington. But one contact led to another and we ended up with a room in a rather rundown Victorian hotel a short walk from Gloucester Road underground station. I have the exact address on Harrington Gardens and will give it in a later post.
Eric was already working at the engineering firm near Westminster Abbey, so I made the contacts. This student hostel was being run by a retired major from the colonial service (Kenya most of the time, I believe). He had a walrus mustache and a monocle, and wore a fresh red rose in his lapel each day. Who could ask for more for our London summer? The major had a wife quite a bit younger than himself and three small children. They had a fairly large apartment in the building. Others, all foreign students, each had a room. I asked if we could live there, and was told no--"Americans are too picky and complaining." I promised we would not complain about anything and after much discussion, for some reason the Major decided to take a chance on us. We moved into our one room apartment and shared bathroom down the hall.
Our room was comfortably large with a closet, an armoire, a gas fireplace, a two burner gas ring "stove"--no oven--a sink, a small, square table and two chairs, and two twin beds. Oh yes, in front of the fireplace there were two old, greasy looking arm chairs. It took some time to get up the nerve to sit in those chairs!
We loved our experiences, because this place was still a part of a London of the past that has mostly disappeared in the onslaught of modernization. We quickly learned that when the gas ran out in the gas burners, that meant we had to put some shillings in the meter on the floor near the fireplace. I knew to do this because I remembered Eric's mother's tales of England when they had to add coins to the gas line.
We had no refrigeration, but neither did Auntie Dorothy down in Southampton! You shopped daily and depended on the cooler weather! So we bought glass containers of milk that were probably about a pint in size. We bought our groceries every couple of days.
We set the small table by the one window we had. It looked out of the roofs and chimney pots of London, and our constant visitors were the pigeons. We actually had a pet pigeon or two who came to our windowsill regularly for the bread crumbs we would give them. Of course, like most of Europe, the window had no screen. We pushed up the sash and enjoyed our sense of the outdoors while eating there.
Each morning I would walk with Eric to the underground station. Halfway there we would stop at a little grocery store (really little) and pick up two Bismarks (round doughnuts filled with jam and rolled in sugar) for a threepence and a pint of milk. We would eat this as we walked the rest of the way to the station. Eric would give me a hug goodby and join the London business men in their striped suits and bowler hats with umbrellas over their arm. He paid a 6 pence to ride from there to Victoria Station and then walk a short way toward Westminster Abbey to his office. More about the office later!
Eric was already working at the engineering firm near Westminster Abbey, so I made the contacts. This student hostel was being run by a retired major from the colonial service (Kenya most of the time, I believe). He had a walrus mustache and a monocle, and wore a fresh red rose in his lapel each day. Who could ask for more for our London summer? The major had a wife quite a bit younger than himself and three small children. They had a fairly large apartment in the building. Others, all foreign students, each had a room. I asked if we could live there, and was told no--"Americans are too picky and complaining." I promised we would not complain about anything and after much discussion, for some reason the Major decided to take a chance on us. We moved into our one room apartment and shared bathroom down the hall.
Our room was comfortably large with a closet, an armoire, a gas fireplace, a two burner gas ring "stove"--no oven--a sink, a small, square table and two chairs, and two twin beds. Oh yes, in front of the fireplace there were two old, greasy looking arm chairs. It took some time to get up the nerve to sit in those chairs!
We loved our experiences, because this place was still a part of a London of the past that has mostly disappeared in the onslaught of modernization. We quickly learned that when the gas ran out in the gas burners, that meant we had to put some shillings in the meter on the floor near the fireplace. I knew to do this because I remembered Eric's mother's tales of England when they had to add coins to the gas line.
We had no refrigeration, but neither did Auntie Dorothy down in Southampton! You shopped daily and depended on the cooler weather! So we bought glass containers of milk that were probably about a pint in size. We bought our groceries every couple of days.
We set the small table by the one window we had. It looked out of the roofs and chimney pots of London, and our constant visitors were the pigeons. We actually had a pet pigeon or two who came to our windowsill regularly for the bread crumbs we would give them. Of course, like most of Europe, the window had no screen. We pushed up the sash and enjoyed our sense of the outdoors while eating there.
Each morning I would walk with Eric to the underground station. Halfway there we would stop at a little grocery store (really little) and pick up two Bismarks (round doughnuts filled with jam and rolled in sugar) for a threepence and a pint of milk. We would eat this as we walked the rest of the way to the station. Eric would give me a hug goodby and join the London business men in their striped suits and bowler hats with umbrellas over their arm. He paid a 6 pence to ride from there to Victoria Station and then walk a short way toward Westminster Abbey to his office. More about the office later!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Blogspot #3 Sunday in Southampton
After looking over old pictures and reading old letters, I was reminded more clearly of my first Sunday in Southampton. As was our usual, Eric and I wanted to attend church. We asked if there was a church we could walk to. Auntie Dorothy gave us directions, but was not encouraging about what we would find. She had not been there in years and did not intend to help out by taking us there! We ended up walking to little English church--just how you would picture it. Going through the wooden doors, we joined about a dozen gray haired matrons and the minister. We, as usual, carried our Bibles with us to church, expecting to have a need to follow along in Scripture with the pastor. But here we learned to pick up a song book and a prayer book at the back of the church and then follow the form chosen for that day. It was the first step on a path of learning about post-Christianity England.
After lunch, Eric, his mother and I walked across the large road toward the docks and spent the afternoon in the huge grassy sports field. Mum (While my mother was "Mom," Eric's mother was always "Mum," in good English style) was truly reliving her childhood for us that afternoon. She taught me to make daisy chains with the little wild daisys that totally covered the field. I learned to pick them with as much stem as possible, then carefully slit a "buttonhole" in each stem, sticking the stem of one daisy through the buttonhole in the stem of the next one.
It was a unique time in history that day in early June, 1966. Within sight were most of the ships of the English commercial lines--the cruise ships, etc. all tied up at docks and out into the harbor. The Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, had called a state of emergency as the Seaman's Strike caused each ship coming into port to join the strike. I had never seen so many ships in one spot, closely tied up like that. It made quite a stir in England, and evidently set records. We have some 8mm film showing us making the daisy chains with ships in the background.
At the end of the day, we headed back to 9 Mottisfont Close for high tea (supper). Often we stopped for fish and chips and carried them home for that evening meal. We were at a transition period of time where often the fish and chips, and sometimes a serving of peas, were wrapped in newsprint paper rather than the old way in yesterday's newspaper. In later visits to England many of the neighborhood fish and chips shops became curry shops.
In the next episode we will be off to London to find housing!
After lunch, Eric, his mother and I walked across the large road toward the docks and spent the afternoon in the huge grassy sports field. Mum (While my mother was "Mom," Eric's mother was always "Mum," in good English style) was truly reliving her childhood for us that afternoon. She taught me to make daisy chains with the little wild daisys that totally covered the field. I learned to pick them with as much stem as possible, then carefully slit a "buttonhole" in each stem, sticking the stem of one daisy through the buttonhole in the stem of the next one.
It was a unique time in history that day in early June, 1966. Within sight were most of the ships of the English commercial lines--the cruise ships, etc. all tied up at docks and out into the harbor. The Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, had called a state of emergency as the Seaman's Strike caused each ship coming into port to join the strike. I had never seen so many ships in one spot, closely tied up like that. It made quite a stir in England, and evidently set records. We have some 8mm film showing us making the daisy chains with ships in the background.
At the end of the day, we headed back to 9 Mottisfont Close for high tea (supper). Often we stopped for fish and chips and carried them home for that evening meal. We were at a transition period of time where often the fish and chips, and sometimes a serving of peas, were wrapped in newsprint paper rather than the old way in yesterday's newspaper. In later visits to England many of the neighborhood fish and chips shops became curry shops.
In the next episode we will be off to London to find housing!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Blogspot #2
No. 9 Mottisfont Close
Southampton, England
June 1966
Our first days were spent at No. 9 Mottisfont Close, at the west edge of Southampton. Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Laurie Fawson were married in 1921, I believe. Uncle Laurie had worked all his life for the UK postal system. Eric’s mother, Neva, was an attendant for her favorite aunt’s wedding when she was about 12 years old. We have pictures of that wedding and a beautiful large portrait done of Neva in her attendant’s dress.
Cousin Derek picked us up at the dock, drove us west on Millbrook Road, W., until we came to King George’s Avenue. Turning away from the water, we drove a very short block down King George, took a right onto Creighton Road, and then a left onto Mottisfont Close.
No. 9 is a red brick two-story semi-detached home that sits at the end of a cul-de-sac. Semi-detached meant it was not a row house, or town house, as we might call it. Cousin Derek drove up to the gate, which was always kept closed. Someone had to get out and open the gate, then close it again once the car was in the drive that hugged the tiny front yard, and proceeded along the right side of the house to the garage at the back.
I don’t know exactly when the house was built, but it was pre-World War II. The windows all stuck when opening and shutting. The family said that came as a result of the nearby bombing of the Southampton docks during the war. We always hear of the Blitz in London, but the docks in Southampton and the naval yard in nearby Portsmouth were also targets.
I am now so used to European and English homes that I would not notice it as different. But back then, I was seeing everything with the fresh eyes of someone who had spent most of her life in the US mid-west. I can still conjure up my cozy evenings in the sitting room, afternoon tea in the dining room, and tea-making and cooking lessons in the little kitchen. In fact, to my mid-western America eyes, everything was in miniature and every room was surprisingly distinct and shut off from every other part of the house.
Each room had a small fireplace and every room had a door that could be closed. During the winter, the fireplaces warmed the room or rooms that were in use, and the halls and stairway were cold. Auntie Dorothy, like many English homemakers at that time, still did not own a refrigerator. Perishables were kept in the unheated pantry under the stairway. One shopped for only a day or two at a time. Milk came in half-pints, pints, and quarts.
The front of the house was totally taken up with an entry way and hall which ran from the front door to the kitchen door at the back of the house. This hallway also included the stairway up to the second floor. The phone sat on a deep window sill at the bottom landing to the stairs. Obviously no one was planning to linger on the phone, as there was no where to sit down.
To the left was the door to the tiny living room. The space of this room was slightly enlarged by a bay window. This room held a couch, a couple of armchairs, the small tellie (TV), and a table or two. Five or six of us sitting there for the evening totally filled the space. It was a cozy place to spend the evening, the women knitting. Sometime during the evening Auntie would suggest tea, and the teapot, milk, sugar, and tin of biscuits (cookies) would soon appear.
The kitchen was at the back of the house, with a door to the hallway and another outside to the driveway. It held a stove with a warming compartment above. Plates were warmed before being served up in the kitchen, so that dinners were served plated. Auntie would fill the heated plates and carry them one or two at a time using mitts or tea towels to keep from burning her hands. She backed her way through the swinging kitchen door into the hallway and then turned to go through the dining room door to the table.
The dining room was the same width as the living room, with large French doors opening onto the back garden. It had a table for six, a small fireplace, a sideboard, a rocking chair, a second easy chair, and a budgie (parakeet). cage This budgie was the family pet and got more affection and attention than many people give a dog or a cat. Sometimes the cage was moved outside the French doors onto the steps to the garden for the afternoon.
While we might have an evening cup of tea in the parlor, the dining room was where we had breakfast, elevensies (tea and snack at 11 a.m.), lunch (which during the summer was always a cold plate of meat, cheese, egg, green salad, etc.), and afternoon tea. I am trying to remember if afternoon tea melded into supper or if we also had high tea, which was supper. I think we did both, depending on the day. Since it was summer, I don’t remember too many large, hot meals being served there. We did have the English roast, potatoes, vegetables, and Yorkshire pudding a few times on the weekend.
The sink was a simple, single porcelain on with a side draining board. I had never seen a “geyser.” Instead of a water tank, water was heated on demand by the geyser. There was one in the kitchen, and another in the upstairs bathroom.
Auntie Dorothy often called me the affectionate nickname of “duckie” or “ducks.” She taught me to brew a proper pot of tea, shaking her head that I had never learned to warm the pot first, steep tea, or use a tea cozy to keep the pot warm. Despite the nearly fifty year difference in our ages, we had a great time together and laughed a lot.
No. 9 Mottisfont Close
Southampton, England
June 1966
Our first days were spent at No. 9 Mottisfont Close, at the west edge of Southampton. Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Laurie Fawson were married in 1921, I believe. Uncle Laurie had worked all his life for the UK postal system. Eric’s mother, Neva, was an attendant for her favorite aunt’s wedding when she was about 12 years old. We have pictures of that wedding and a beautiful large portrait done of Neva in her attendant’s dress.
Cousin Derek picked us up at the dock, drove us west on Millbrook Road, W., until we came to King George’s Avenue. Turning away from the water, we drove a very short block down King George, took a right onto Creighton Road, and then a left onto Mottisfont Close.
No. 9 is a red brick two-story semi-detached home that sits at the end of a cul-de-sac. Semi-detached meant it was not a row house, or town house, as we might call it. Cousin Derek drove up to the gate, which was always kept closed. Someone had to get out and open the gate, then close it again once the car was in the drive that hugged the tiny front yard, and proceeded along the right side of the house to the garage at the back.
I don’t know exactly when the house was built, but it was pre-World War II. The windows all stuck when opening and shutting. The family said that came as a result of the nearby bombing of the Southampton docks during the war. We always hear of the Blitz in London, but the docks in Southampton and the naval yard in nearby Portsmouth were also targets.
I am now so used to European and English homes that I would not notice it as different. But back then, I was seeing everything with the fresh eyes of someone who had spent most of her life in the US mid-west. I can still conjure up my cozy evenings in the sitting room, afternoon tea in the dining room, and tea-making and cooking lessons in the little kitchen. In fact, to my mid-western America eyes, everything was in miniature and every room was surprisingly distinct and shut off from every other part of the house.
Each room had a small fireplace and every room had a door that could be closed. During the winter, the fireplaces warmed the room or rooms that were in use, and the halls and stairway were cold. Auntie Dorothy, like many English homemakers at that time, still did not own a refrigerator. Perishables were kept in the unheated pantry under the stairway. One shopped for only a day or two at a time. Milk came in half-pints, pints, and quarts.
The front of the house was totally taken up with an entry way and hall which ran from the front door to the kitchen door at the back of the house. This hallway also included the stairway up to the second floor. The phone sat on a deep window sill at the bottom landing to the stairs. Obviously no one was planning to linger on the phone, as there was no where to sit down.
To the left was the door to the tiny living room. The space of this room was slightly enlarged by a bay window. This room held a couch, a couple of armchairs, the small tellie (TV), and a table or two. Five or six of us sitting there for the evening totally filled the space. It was a cozy place to spend the evening, the women knitting. Sometime during the evening Auntie would suggest tea, and the teapot, milk, sugar, and tin of biscuits (cookies) would soon appear.
The kitchen was at the back of the house, with a door to the hallway and another outside to the driveway. It held a stove with a warming compartment above. Plates were warmed before being served up in the kitchen, so that dinners were served plated. Auntie would fill the heated plates and carry them one or two at a time using mitts or tea towels to keep from burning her hands. She backed her way through the swinging kitchen door into the hallway and then turned to go through the dining room door to the table.
The dining room was the same width as the living room, with large French doors opening onto the back garden. It had a table for six, a small fireplace, a sideboard, a rocking chair, a second easy chair, and a budgie (parakeet). cage This budgie was the family pet and got more affection and attention than many people give a dog or a cat. Sometimes the cage was moved outside the French doors onto the steps to the garden for the afternoon.
While we might have an evening cup of tea in the parlor, the dining room was where we had breakfast, elevensies (tea and snack at 11 a.m.), lunch (which during the summer was always a cold plate of meat, cheese, egg, green salad, etc.), and afternoon tea. I am trying to remember if afternoon tea melded into supper or if we also had high tea, which was supper. I think we did both, depending on the day. Since it was summer, I don’t remember too many large, hot meals being served there. We did have the English roast, potatoes, vegetables, and Yorkshire pudding a few times on the weekend.
The sink was a simple, single porcelain on with a side draining board. I had never seen a “geyser.” Instead of a water tank, water was heated on demand by the geyser. There was one in the kitchen, and another in the upstairs bathroom.
Auntie Dorothy often called me the affectionate nickname of “duckie” or “ducks.” She taught me to brew a proper pot of tea, shaking her head that I had never learned to warm the pot first, steep tea, or use a tea cozy to keep the pot warm. Despite the nearly fifty year difference in our ages, we had a great time together and laughed a lot.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Our adventures overseas began in June of 1966, when we flew from the United States for Europe and United Kingdom. We had just completed our junior year at Purdue University. With just one year left before receiving his BS in Civil Engineering, Eric had applied for an internship with an engineering consultant firm in downtown London. The destination was determined because we also wanted to reconnect with Eric's English relatives while his mother was in the UK to help us. We also wanted to spread our wings and discover Europe!
We flew on Icelandic Airlines (the best bargain at that time) to Luxembourg, and took a train to the French Riviera. These were the days when luggage did not have wheels and when proper ladies took a hat along for special occasions--a fact that Eric disputed from the very beginning. Needless to say, my white straw hat with black ribbon streamers and our heavy suitcases added to our adventures over the summer. Frommer's "Europe On $5 A Day" was our guide, and we prided ourselves on getting by for $5 a day for the two of us most of the time.
When we arrived in Nice, we used Frommer's guide to find an inexpensive hotel near the railroad station. As soon as that was settled, we headed for the beach and took our first dip in the incredibly blue Mediterranean Sea.
Neither of us had anticipated a beach of stone rather than sand. In spite of the discomfort, with university exams and travel behind us we were exhausted enough to fall asleep on the stones. The cool evening air and setting sun woke us up. It seemed especially cool to us because of the intense sunburns we had earned on our first day at the beach. The train ride a few days later from Nice, France, to the coast of the English Channel was a painful one.
We crossed the Channel on a ferry. This trip had already included many firsts for me. While Eric had traveled to England with his family as a child, I had never been overseas. In the first week I had experienced my first train ride and my first boat ride. We arrived in Southampton amidst a the proverbial English rain. Those were not the days of email or easy telephoning between countries when you stayed in cheap hotels or slept on trains. Besides, we were novices and didn't know much. Each day was an adventure. We got to Southampton on a dark and rainy evening. I sat on the suitcase while Eric called his relatives. Cousin Derek came to pick us up. Another first. I had never ridden in such a tiny car or in one with the steering wheel on the righthand side of the car.
We flew on Icelandic Airlines (the best bargain at that time) to Luxembourg, and took a train to the French Riviera. These were the days when luggage did not have wheels and when proper ladies took a hat along for special occasions--a fact that Eric disputed from the very beginning. Needless to say, my white straw hat with black ribbon streamers and our heavy suitcases added to our adventures over the summer. Frommer's "Europe On $5 A Day" was our guide, and we prided ourselves on getting by for $5 a day for the two of us most of the time.
When we arrived in Nice, we used Frommer's guide to find an inexpensive hotel near the railroad station. As soon as that was settled, we headed for the beach and took our first dip in the incredibly blue Mediterranean Sea.
Neither of us had anticipated a beach of stone rather than sand. In spite of the discomfort, with university exams and travel behind us we were exhausted enough to fall asleep on the stones. The cool evening air and setting sun woke us up. It seemed especially cool to us because of the intense sunburns we had earned on our first day at the beach. The train ride a few days later from Nice, France, to the coast of the English Channel was a painful one.
We crossed the Channel on a ferry. This trip had already included many firsts for me. While Eric had traveled to England with his family as a child, I had never been overseas. In the first week I had experienced my first train ride and my first boat ride. We arrived in Southampton amidst a the proverbial English rain. Those were not the days of email or easy telephoning between countries when you stayed in cheap hotels or slept on trains. Besides, we were novices and didn't know much. Each day was an adventure. We got to Southampton on a dark and rainy evening. I sat on the suitcase while Eric called his relatives. Cousin Derek came to pick us up. Another first. I had never ridden in such a tiny car or in one with the steering wheel on the righthand side of the car.
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