S.S. Manela. [original page 100]

I had a run down to Andover, to look see properties bordering Wiltshire. Among a lot of places, I chose one hear Hurstbourne Tarrant, and went home with the news. The very next morning, we had a panic call from Brighton. Both Enid M.'s mother and father were ill. Enid M. left right away, to see how bad things were. Thinking the worst, I delayed on Hurstbournse Tarrant. Enid said we had to go to Brighton for a bit. Her father wanted us. The last place I wanted to go was there. As it turned out, it was the last place we should have gone to.

Ivor had finished school, but Cambridge wanted him to complete his national service before going up. While waiting to do this, he went to Lucas at Birmingham to kill time. So we had both children off our hands.

When Enid M. told me years before that we should have nothing to do with her mother, she knew what she was talking about. By heaven we proved it well. Poor Grandpa, as he had now become to us, had married a tyrant. Although I had seen touches of it, what I now experienced was frightening. Enid M. knew all about it, but had not gone out of her way to let me fully in on it.

Long before this, soon after Enid M. and I had married, Grandpa had built a big house, which seemed strange. It was no longer strange. It was for all of us. But that is not what I wanted. They were both ill, so there we went. It was not too bad until they were well again.

We could all have been quite happy together. There was room to halve the house. We could be separate from them, as we were eventually. But this did not suit Grandma. Gradually, she got wilder and wilder, until it got so bad that I told Grandpa that we had to go. I booked a place at Peacehaven, so as not to be too far away from him. I got back, and told him that we could get fixed up in a few days, and I thought that was that. At about midnight, he came into our room. Clutching me round the next, he entreated me not to leave him, to stay and look after him. This was very alarming. But we calmed him down. Telling him we would discuss it in the morning, we got him back to bed.

In themorning, Grandpa again beseeched us to stay. I thought he seemed frightened at being left alone with her, so I gave in. Enid M. and I never left him alone with her for long. Life was made digusting as regards civilised behaviour. People in Bernsley who had known her as a young woman had warned me to be careful of her. Many years before, Enid M. and I were having tea with Grandma's old headmistress where she had taught. Before we left, she said; "Be very careful of your mother in law." Another friend of the family had said very much the same thing. Apparently, she had had a vicious temper when young. Poor Grandpa. How I tried to make a go of it, to no purpose. In my long life, she was the only enemy I was to have. She had no real friends anywhere, which seemed an awful pity.

One evening, we had to go out together for a bit. On our return, Grandpa met us in a state of complete distress, near to collapse. Goodness knows what she had been up to. He never said. "You must go; you must go," he repeated, and appeared very frightened. We took him into our room, calmed him again, and I said I would get a place tomorrow. The next day, I went to the agents, and got a pile of properties on the market in Sussex and East Kent. I picked out a number en route through East Sussex and into Kent. After breakfast, we were off to look see. I no longer worried about being near Brighton. I wanted to get as far away from it as I could. We decided on a three bedroomed bungalow right off the beaten track, between Heathfield and Matfield. It was down a narrow lane off the Heathfield - Burwash road. It was ideal; as far from the madding crowd as one could get in England. I could wave pound notes at the agent, so we were in. It was thirty miles from Brighton

On the morning we left, all packed up, with the van waiting to leave, Grandpa came to us and asked me to take him to a nursing home not far off. I couldn't understand this, but he got into the car with a little luggage, and off we went. I helped him in, and he astounded me by saying; "I am staying here until you have a room for me. I am coming to live with you." What a terrible trasgedy, at his age, in his eighties, to have come to such a pass.But I quite understood. Within a week, I collected him. He never saw Grandma again. He never mentioned her, except when telling me of the times he had had with her. For an intellectual like him, life had not played fair. He was happy with us, and ended his days in the peace and quiet of the Sussex countryside. I never saw Grandma again, but when she became quite ill, Enid M. and Margery tried to help her. Grandpa had bought her a small house just outside Brighton, in which to make herseof comfortable, if that were possible. I dreaded her coming out to lakedown, our bungalow., and creating a disturbance. But thankfully she never did. I think it very sad that she did not show the slightest friendship towards margery and Ivor, her two talented grandchildren. But such it was. It was such a pity, as it could have been so different.

After Poitiers, Margery had a spell as an assistant teacher at Beaune, the centre of the Burgundy wine district. O spent two longish holidays there with her. I was able to stay with the wine merchant with whom she lodged. Owing to the tie-up with Grandpa, Enid M. was unable to come with me, which was a pity. She had to go on her own, when I stayed behind.

Monsieur Jolliot, the wine merchant with whom I stayed, was also a grower. Through him, and the friends Margery made, I was able to visit, and get to know, some of the more famous wine vinyards of the Côte d'Or; such names as Pommard, Clos du Roi, Nuits St. George, mersault, and many others. I was certainly able to get to know the good Burgundies, and the taste has never left me.

Beaune, with its famous medaeval L'Hôtel-DieuHe had gone to another aquadron. He used to come over of an eveni, has much of interest. It was an eye opener to see through some of the enormous Caves du Vin, which spread for what seems to be miles under the city. I got friendly with the Joseph Drouhin family, and was shown round the miles of tunnels and underground stores. There were hundreds of barrels of the best wines, and thousands of bottles of all ages stacked from floor to ceiling. Every so often, he would stop, and say; "You must taste this. It's a '35 Pommard, and wonderful." He inserted a glass tube into the barrel, and withdrew it full of wine. he then put it into the glass he had given me in the office. When wine tasting like this, you are not supposed to swallow, but waggle it around in the mouth and spit it out. This seemed an awful waste to me. By the time I got to the last barrel to sample, I felt as though I had had a good time, which I had. The age of these cellars is lost in antiquity. It is known that they existed long before Roman times. By the look of some of the bottles I saw, thickly covered with undisturbed dust, I was told it was possible that some of them were hundreds of years old, and now considered too sacred to touch.

My French has progressed little beyond the fifth form, in spite of the time I have spent in France. I have to be careful when having to talk in French. I arrived at Dijon at midnight, after travelling all day via Newhaven, Dieppe and Paris. Very tired, I went over to the Hôtel Morot, where I understood Margery had booked a room for me. There was a chap and a woman there. I asked, in French, if there was a room reserved for Catt. He replied, in French, "For Catt, Monsieur?" I said yes, for Catt. He said he hadn't, and so I said, no matter, did he have a room for me? "Oh yes," he said, and handed me the booking slip. I filled it in and gave it back to him. He looked at it, said something, and he and the woman started roaring with laughter. "Your name is Catt," he said, and then I realised that I had asked him if he had a room reserved for four. I had noticed him looking over my shoulder for the other three when I first asked him. I had never realised that the pronunciation of my name is four in French. This muddle would not have happened if I had prefixed my name with Mr.

Enid M. is so good at French, and as we are normally together, I do not have to say much. I leave it to her. She is also very good at German. She is very useful to have toddling alongside on the Continent. During these times, the travelling allowance was only fifty pounds. I used to go over to France for a month. One could do this if one knew one's way around. Another time, I arrived at the Gare St. Lazare, and staggered into the first hotel I saw. I asked the price of a room, and was told 1,500 francs (old francs). I said I did not want to buy the bed, only to sleep in it for a night. In any case, I was English, and hadn't the money. Picking up my bags, I asked where I could get a cheaper bed. He asked me how much I wanted to pay. I said fife hundred francs. For this, he took me up to the lovely carpetted room he had been going to charge 1,500 for. Don't it pay to shop around!

Margery was at Beaune for Christmas 1954. I went to her for a few weeks before, as we had arranged to go to Louverné for the Christmas holiday with Mademoiselle Travers. On Christmas Eve morning, we changed at Dijon for Paris. The platform was crowded. A relief train was announced. It pulled up at another platform. no one moved to get on it. When the scheduled train pulled in, there was an awful crush to get on it. This train was due to leave at 10.56, and at 10.56 it puleed out, leaving half families on the platform, husbands wihtout wives, and so forth. This is how French railways are run. Except in very exceptional circumstances, trains do not run late. So we were in time to get across Paris from Gare de Lyon to Gare Montparnasse, and catch our connection.

Mademoiselle did not go to church very often. That night, she wanted to go to midnight mass. We thought it would be nice to go with her, although with all the travelling and excitement of seeing her again., we were both very tired. The church was packed to standing room, and we had difficulty in finding seats. Obviously, everybody had come in from the surrounding hamlets. It started at about eleven, and went on till one, when we went home very tired.

Mademoiselle invited the Royal couple, the married daughter of Monsieur leveque, to make a party for the Christmas dinner. It was some meal, as was to be expected at Mademoiselle's. We got up from the table at about four O'clock, having started just before twelve.

After things had been cleared away, M Royal said; "Let's see what the spirits have to say." They were not English speaking, and all the conversation was in French. I wondered what he was getting at. A small round table was brought out. Margery and I and the two Royals got round it and joined hands on the top of it. I took it all as a huge joke. it was broad daylight. I suggested we should darken the room. "Oh no, that wasn't necessary." Royal demanded of the spirits if they were there. I looked at Margery with a grin at the tomfoolery of it all. mademoiselle sat at the big table at the back. Again, the demand was made to the spirits if they were ther, when, all of a sudden, the table made a heave. My eyes darted under the table and at the others. But, except for our hands on top, no one was touching it. "What the devil's going on?" I said in English, which only Margery understood. Royal asked the spirit what message it had, and a lot of drivel started coming through. I cried to Mlle to write, and she got pencil and paper. The letters of the alphabet were tapped out. It seemed to be Italian. We asked its name, and sure neough, an Italian name appeared. I told it to speak French, but no more came. After a while, more started. I realised it was in English, and I said so. The message I got was "There will be war in a year." "Who with?" I asked. The word "International" came through. By this time, I realised that there was jiggery pokery about the business, and wished it all elsewhere. Another pause, and somebody else started with something which was not clear. When Madame asked who it was, M Leveque came through. "Mon Père," screamed madam Royal, and the table came up as if to go through the roof. 'My Father' broke the party up. Madame collapsed in hysterics and had to be taken straight home.

This was the one and only time I got entangled with the spirit world. I have not run into any since. This is a true account of what happened on Christmas Day aftenoon 1954 in the tiny village of Louverné, Mayenne. We had had a lovely dinner, with the usual wines, but I was absolutely sober, as I never drank too much.

I have never discussed it with Margery, or with anyone else for that matter. There seems to be no understandable answer to it all, and I have been content to let the matter drop. But where are these people who were trying to talk to us? I had known Madame Royal since she was a small girl. I knew her father and mother for years. Who or where was the conncetion on that day? Was it me, because English came through. Was it Mlle Travers. who was sitting aside? It remains a mystery for me.

Grandpa Jones died peacefully on his eighty-fifth birthday, August nineteenth, 1956.

I have said that I did not see Grandma Jones again. This was not quite right. We did collect her and take her to the Brighton Crematorium, for the funeral. I thought I ought to do this, so I suggested it to her. I was surprised when she agreed. She appeared as hard as ever, completely untouched. Had she ever had a heart as one understands it? I kept wondering what was going through her mind. We took her home. I went in, hop[ing to see or hear how she was affected. But all she wanted to talk about, and all she seemed interested in, was Grandpa's will. This was the last thing we wanted to talk about just then. She was still in the big house, although Grandpa had provided a smaller house for her. Although she was very well off indeed, he had arranged for her welfare until she died. She did move shortly afterwards, but only survived Grandpa by a couple of years. During this time, she made no effort to change her attitude towards any of us, which seemed tragic. She never contacted us, but we were informed when she went into hospital. Enid M. and Margery went in to see her. She then asked for her clothes, dressed and went home, although the hospital doctors and staff told her it would be the death of her, which it was. She was tough in a way, but in many ways she was crazy. She died worth a good deal of money, out of which she did think of Margery and Ivor a little. I was surprised when her clever daughter was not mentioned, except for some stupid reasons explaining why she was not. But as we expected this, we were not at all concerned. Poor Grandma Jones. I do hope her soul is resting in peace, not floating around me as was the sould of M Leveque that Christmas afternoon in Louverné.

Without Grandpa on our hands, we were now able to go away together, and early next year we were off to Louverné. As Newhaven was only about twenty-five miles from our bungalow Lakedown House, it was our best crossing port. Roll on roll offs had not yet started, and the car followed the passenger boat on a small cargo boat. This arrived at Dieppe some time after the passengers. This meant stopping somewhere for the night en route. We often made this Rouen, which was interesting. On our first stop we found a very good hôtel, the Albert Premier.

Enid M. had met someone at Friends Yearly meeting in London who was conn#ected with the Quakers in France. We decided to attend the French Yearly meeting in Paris. We wrote to them, booked up for it, and they booked accomodation for us nearby. We have continued to use this hotel ever since. Also, we have atended their Yearly Meeting many times, in Paris and later in a delightful Chateau much further south.

It was at meeting that we met Henri Schultz. We became attached to him, spending many holidays with him. He bought an old chateau, to convert into a guest house. Next spring, we stayed at his Chateau de Charbonnieres, in the Perche, forty miles south-west of Chartres, right in the country. We had a terriffic reception by all the family. As a special honour, we were given the Countess's bedroom, the number one bedroom. It was enormous. I suppose it was used by the last countess to occupy the chateau. We have seen many changes in tyhe place as modification have been made. Now there is modern accomodation in the large stabling and carriage buildings. We go there once or twice every year. In 1974, I made up a party of friends, chartered an East Kent bus, and took them all there for a lovely time. I arranged trips to Chartres, Orleans, some of the Chateaux of the Loire, and the surrounding country we know so well.

Margery got an upper second, and later Ivor got a lower second after his three years at Trinity. I visited them both quite often aat college.

margery met and married a musician from Durham University who was doing Teacher Training at John's College, Cambridge, while Margery was at Hughe's Hall, where her mother also had gone. Margery's Dere3k got a hockey blue during that year. Ivor took unto himself the daughter of one of Enid M.'s school friends who was still in contact with her.Freda had read law at London. As Ivor was late going up, she had already graduated. Ivor concentrated on electronics, and was fixed up with a job with Ferranti in Manchester designing computers. At the time, Ferranti was in the lead. Before starting work , he got married and took a longish honeymoon in France. Three years later, Ivor joined the 'brain drain', going to los Angeles to Ampex, who shipped him, his family and chattels.

Here was the chance to do something I had always wanted to do; visit America. Since Los Angeles was so far, I decided to carry on round the world, taking in Japan, Hong Kong, Malaya and so forth. We had loads of time, did not want to fly, and so I found a very good shipping company, McGregor, Gow and Holland. On the third of September, 1963, we sailed from Liverpool for New York on the Cunarder "Sylvania". We bought Greyhound bus runabout tickets. These cost ninety dollars. We covered a great amount of the U.S.A. with them, from new York to San Diego, with many cross trips as well.

I disliked large p[assenger boats, but the Atlandit trip was short. Otherwise, we insisted on the large cargo boats which only take a few passengers. I knew they were more comfortable, although more expensive.

We had intended to stay in new York, but it was bedlam, hot and opressive, so we decided to get out of it. The bus station was a small town in itself, all under one roof, with rows of air conditioned departure points. I asked for a bus going north-west, to somewhere cooler. We got a bus to Chicago. At that time there was nothing in England to compare with these buses. We met people who did three or four dsay journeys, staying on the bus the whole time. It is easy to sleep, but I did not intend to do that all the way to Los Angeles. Although everything was available on the bus, it did stop every three or four hours at excellent rest stations, where first class meals were available.

The entire New York - Chicago journey, about one thousand miles, was by freeway. We had thought of stopping over in Chicago, but our bus suffered some trouble, and we had a long wait at a rest station for the relkief bus. Chicago appeared as unpleasant as New York. After a short break, we decided to carry on, keeping as far north as we could. This was a mistkae. We left the freeway, ands got onto a very bad, bumpy road, which gave us a bad night. We made stops at Des Moins and Omaha. Everywhere there were enormous dumps of discarded cars, which were an eyesore. The enormous distances are brought home when passing large notices saying; '400 miles to little America'; '350 miles to 'Wade's Cafe.' We made stops in such romantic places as Laramie, Buffalow, and had passed signs 'To Hangman's Valley', 'Dea Man's Gulch', etc.

Late in the afternoon, well up in Wyoming, we came to a cool place, Rock Springs. It all looked peaceful and quiet. We were directed to a motel where we booked in for the night. We had a chalet roomj with bath, shower, telephone and television for about three pounds, but no food.

After a good night's rest, we caught an early bus for Salt Lake City. From Cheyenne, we travelled via the new, magnificent Lincoln High Way, up and over the Rocky Mountains, through marvellous scenery which beggars description. as we approached Salt Lake City, the cultivation increased noticeably. Wondering why Brigham Young settled hre, it became clear when we approached. For him and for us, we looked down upon a green valley. Irt would have looked like the promised land after the country we had come through. Our first priority was to see the Mormon Temple. They went up in my estimation when the strains of Bach's Toccata in D Minor came from hidden speakers in the bushes, getting louder as we approached the temple. In the temple we heard an organ recital on the wonderful organ I have heard on so many records and on radio. Salt Lake City is most impressive, and wealthy. The people are kindly disposed.

Leaving Salt lake City, we decided to go straight fo Los Angeles. Speeding through Utah, it poured all day. We arrived at Las Vegas a at midnight, stopping long enough for a look see. The place was ablaze with huge coloured signs, and 'life' was at its height. Even the bus station rooms were surrounded by fruit and other gambling machines. Amid all this, I noticed some down and outs, which seemed anachronistic. I was happy to get away.

We reached San Bernardino at daybreak, about sixty miles from L.A. The built up area started here, and we were on the L.A. freeway with a mass of traffic at about 65 m.p.h. right into the city centre. This first experience of L.A. roads was breathtaking. Anormous amounts of ground were taken up by multi laned highways, flyovers and underpasses, with wonderful, disciplined driving. It took time to adjust to the fact that you never had to worry about the other chap, as you have to in England. I got the feeling that you could always trust him to do the right thing. For instance, when coming up to a freeway loaded with traffic, all one had to do was to speed up to 60 m.p.h., and just merge in. Also, you always knew the chap behind you was at least fifty yards away. On the multi lanes, you could pass either side. All you had to do was to be sure that your indicator was out well before, and you had nothing to worry about. If motoring offfences were dealt with half as severely in England, motoring in England would be just as safe. There are real accidents, but in thousands of miles we never saw sign of a single one.

We reached L.A. at about 6.30 a.m.. Ivor was surprised to get my ring so early, but sson arrived in his huge Chevrolet, and took us to Alsace Avenue, where Freda had breakfast on the way. There were no two boys; Malcolm anbd Graham, the younger. Like most houses, it was bungalow type, very spacious, with a lot of ground. The house had every kind of electrical gadget imaginable. The second sink, with an electrical garbage destructor, was new to us. All garbage could be swilled down the drain. All houses had this.

After lunch, we drove to the pacific for a swim. On the way we passed through some of the large film studios and sets. At M.G.M., we saw a complete burnt out town. It looked very real, and I was impressed by the lengths they went to to make things realistic. Every now and then, we passed oil pumps noddig away, even at the side of the street. We had noticed them in open country up in Wyoming and nebraska. The open Pacific was lovely, with huge rollers sweeping in, making ideal surfing conditions. The stretch of sand is not only great in length, but five hundred yards wide. So the beach cannot become crowded. This was the first of many bathing trips, because at times the weather got too hot for comfort.

L.A. airport was near, and every minute or so an aircraft roared over, becasuse the runway takeoff was over the sea.

On the first Sunday in L.A. we went to the Presbyterian church nearby, where Freda and Ivor attended. I was pleased to find the hymn books with music in every seat, and a complete printed program of the service. There was no choir, but everybody sang. There was a good, youngish pastor, and an air of wealth about the church and the prople. And expat and all the Americans wanted to talk with us. We enjoyed many Sunday mornings with them.

On Saturday, shopping day, we went with Freda and ivor to their favourite supermarket. It was vast, all on one floor, covering acres. One could get everything besides food. The surrounding car park was enormous, and there were no parking problems for the enormous cars. Space, space, space. Room for very wide streets, and thousands of single storied houses in their own grounds. At this time, L.A. was sixty miles across, and still spreading by leaps and bounds.

We were soo to experience the menace; smog. This was the menase of the time in L.A. It is due to concentrated motor exhaust fumes, under certain conditions, blanketed in by the surrounding hills and onsure wind, reacting with sunlight. It is most unpleasant. It causes the eyes to smart, and a general feeling of discomfort. At its worst, the radio ceaselessly implores people not to use their cars. But, owing to the distances and lack of public transport, it is impossible to move without the car. People are forced to use them. It is unpleasant to look down from the surrounding hills on a blanket of smog, with its bluish grey tint. Effort is going into a solution. No doubt, in time the problem will be overcome.

Natural gas is used extensively, piped thousands of miles from Texas. The houses are centrally heated via grids in the floor; one grid in the living quarters, and one at the bedroom side of the house. The houses have no foundations because of the threat of earthquake. All windows and doors are fly-proofed., I was dsurprised to find the common cold rampant. I wondered if the smog had anything to do with it. Milk was delivered in 2½ gallon containers, which fit into the enormous refrigerators that everyone has.

In the Los Angeles area we had to visit; Knotts Berry Farm, Marineland and Disneyland. We did them well. Knotts Berry Farm is a mnuseum piece of American life during the sild west days. Marineland, with its performing dolphhins, whales and selas, was a wonderful day's outing. Disneyland was a thing unto itself, and had to be seen to be believed. It was out of this world. I was filled with amazement at it all.

It was getting towards the end of September, too hot for comfort. The temperature got to well over one hundred degrees, but still we decided to go to San Diego, even if only to see its famous zoo. It is so big that it has to be seen by the organized bus tour, which leaves every few minutes, anbd covers everything. The magnificent bird cage is near the entrance. Almost every type of bird is there. You go in and out through ingenious trap doors. But it was far too hot. We were told it was 111 degrees. We decided to get home as soon as possible, and took a late afternoon bus. The air conditioning broke down, so we were jolly glad to reach L.A., back to Alsace Avenue. The yhouse was too hot to stay in. We stayed in the garden until 11 p.m. Next day was just as sticky. We went with Freda and soaked in the sea. The radio announcer announced that his air conditioning had broken down, it was far too hot to carry on, and he must close down. It was Friday, and Ivor came home. He said; "Let's get out of this, up a mountain." We threw a few things together, and were off.

Falling Springs is sixty or seventy miles from L.A. We were soon up ther in the cool. We were accomodated in fully contained cabins, with fridge, and all necessaries down to a gas cooker. We fed ourselves, buying everything from a store within the establishment. We were surprised to be the only people there. The holiday season had ended. It was so lovely there that when the family had to return to L.A., Enid M. and I decided to stay on until it had cooled down below. It was watm enough to enjoy the swimming pool there. We saw deer on our mountain walks.

On Sunday afternoon, a bible study party appeared, with two ministers. We were allowed into their evening meeting. One minister told frankly how he had been saved from a l.ife os sin and drink. The other chap, when a working man, having never heard of Jesus Christ, was lent a bible to read. It completely changed him into an evangelist. So we discovered the deep religious feelings of the Bierke family, who owned and ran Falling Springs.

Another large party arrived by bus one afternoon, and stayed the night. WE sat in on this conference of school officers from a large L.SA. school. They had got together to report on the school activities for the year. The 'officers' were the leaders of all the clubs, teams, societies and so on. They were all teenagers, and seemed very businesslike. This gathering had a deep religious coverage. It began with a prayer by one of the boys. There was some good hymn singing. Two special choral pieces were sung for our benefit. The school principal, and a dear old lady who had started the school twenty-eight years before, welcomed us, as did the students. The conference was to ensure that the officers knew what their duties were. There were chapel leaders for each class. Leaders for this and that were interrogated as to what they were expected to do. The whole affair was full of life and enthusiasm. The chasirman was the young principal. The proceedings ended with a sermon by the aged ex-principal. I noticed that, although she spoke for a long time, all the children listened most intensely. It was so different from a crowd of English teenagers.

One afternoon we had the place to ourselves. A car drove up, and I chatted with the man and woman in it. They had just come to look see, as he had to get back to work. They were experienced mountaineers, and seemed to have climbed everywhere. He said he was an engine driver, and would take the San Diego train that evening. Engine drivers, college professors, and top grade engineers spoke just the same, so one never knew whom one was talking to.

The weather forecast gave a cooling off, so we could return to L.A. Mrs. Bierke was driving down to the nearest highway, where we could catch a bus. All the time during the lovely mountain journey, she spoke to us of the grace of the Lord. She certainly had it bad.

The Spaniards who came up into California from the south certainly knew how to express themselves. Schwartz, one of the Americans ay |Kawasaki madhouse, came from L.A. One day in Japan, I said to him; "Isn't it very beautiful?" He Replies, "Yes, it's 'La Ciudad de nuestra Señora la Reina de Los Angeles'". It sounded beautifully musical as it rolled off his American tongue. To the Spaniards, it was 'The city of oour Lady, the Queen of the Angels." I doubt that they would say the same today. The beautiful little town in its lovely valley of the 1700s is very different now.

Teh Spanish Franciscans built a string of missions up through California. One of the biggest still extant is at Santa Barbara, one hundred miles north up the coast from L.A. We wanted to see it, and also Margery's special college chum, well known to us, was there. She had married an American who was studying at theUniversity there.

Off we went on a Greyhound bus. It was well out of season, and we got in the first hotel. When he heard where I came from, the hotel manager went mad, talking about Wooley, Blythe., Fielder, and goodness knows who else. Perhasps that is why he only charged me three pounds per night.

Although it was early October, swimming in the sea was the best we had had. It had all that the Riviera has,. and more, and we fell in love with it. Mitzi was in good form, and her husband.

The old Santa Barbara Mission draws people from all over the States, but on our day there was only #a handful of people. We could digest its treasures at length.

We did the return journey via the sea road, mostly along the pacific. The weather was good, and the trip marvellous.

Everyone has heard of Yosemite. I was itching to go there. I had seen a picture of Milan Cathedral in the No. 1 Reader, and the picture of the giant sequioias of Yosemite remained in my mind.

We left Hollywood at 7.55. After waiting for two hours at Merced, the Yosemite bus took us to Yosemite Lodge, arriving at 7 p.m. These buses really moved, over that distance of well over four hundred miles. People at the booking office were being turned away, but when i said I had come by bus, they said we were O.K. I asked how this was. They said a phone call from Merced had told them how many people were on the bus, and we got preference.

Yosemite National Park encompasses an array of natural wonders. These include lifty water falls, ggiant sequoias, and other marvels. We lodged in a three siongle bedded hut among the huge trees. An oil fire kept burning day and night. It was high up, and cold enough for this to be needed. Lavs., shower and bath were in a building nearby.

Yosemite Lodge is a beautiful building, with large cafateria, restaurant, lounge, post office, shop, and so on. Every night we had wonderful films about Yosemite. One evening, the park ranger gave an interesting lecture. It is very well organised. Among the many interesting exhibits is a fourteen foot diameter section of a Sequoia. Rings are dated as A.D. 925, 1066 Battle of Hastings, 1215 Magna Carta, 1492 Landing of Columbus, 1620 landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, 1776 Declaration of independence, and so on. This tree fell in 1919, and was 1,100 years old.

We got a shock on the first day. We took a long walk up the valley to Mirror Lake. On the way back, still a long way from the Lodge, were two biggish bears, scrumping around in what looked like the dunmp of a holiday camp. I looked round for something heavy, and we retresated slowly. Back at the lodge, we were told that bears did come down from up top, but they rarely attacked anybody. Every so often, they round them up, take them back, and release them.

We had a gorgeous trip with a visitor in his huge Buick, right up to the Sierra Nevadas. The ice and snow was still thick. We had a picnic lunch by a lake in warm sunshine, at the end of a road which is only open in summer. It would soon be impassable.

In L.A., there was so much to see that we rarely rested. However, we did like to stroll up the Baldwin Hills Reservoir, just above Alsace Avenue. From the dam wall, we looked over L.A. and the surrounding country. We were still on our round the world trip a few days later when the dam wall burst and swept everything away. It was some time before we got news from ivor thet it had just missed their house, although they had been evacuated. We visited again soon after, and saw the result of this appalling misshap.

Although it was october 1963, we began to see signs of bomb scares. Strolling through the university of California, we saw notices appearing directing people to bomb shelters, all in conspicuous places. Fortunately, the scare died down.

Seventeen other English chaps in the computer world had gone to L.A. They were glad to entertain us. One had just had a new house built in the San Fernando Valley. It had it all. There was intercom at the door to announce yourself. The door opened electrically. Every room had built in radio and intercom, and every electrical gadget known and unknown. We also visited a new housing estate on Sunrise Mesa, where the real money is. We looked round houses being built for $60,000 to $100,000. It is difficult to find words to describe these palaces.

Will Rogers State Historic Park, above Sunset Boulevard, was a must to visit for people like us who had heard his voice. It is now [1976] nearly forty years since he was killed in an aeroplane crash in Alaska, so his memory is fading, even in America. The house, ranch and buildings are as the family handed them over to the state in his memory. They will be a constant reminder of the great man.

We made an early start from L.A. bus station for the Grand Canyon, reaching Flagstaff by evening. This was Greyhound's limit. The special Canyon bus took us the last 82 miles to the canyon. The journay to Flagstaff was via desert, where giant cacti abound. We saw ruins of places where people tried to live, but given up the struggle.

Flagstaff stands at 7,000 feet. The drive up is hair-raising in places. In our hotel a notice told us to go slowly, and take things easy because of the height. U suppose a few visitors had had heart attacks.

As with Merced to Yosemite, we had to pay the last few miles to the Canyon. These were the only two timers we could not use the Greyhound ticket. We passed through the layout of a largish town where not one house had been built yet. The streets had been laid out, and large notices gave their names. Gangs of workmen were marking the plots, waiting for plot buyers to come and take posession. I wonder whjether this town was ever built.

At Bright Angel Lodge you walk through the netrance hall and get your first, breathtaking view of the Canyon. The lodge is built right on the rim of the canyon, which seem shnot of this world. You look down at mountain tops, dozens of different colours of earth formation; mauve, red, heliotrope; all the colours of the rainbow, in fact. It is fascinating. The colours change as you sit gazing at it. They tell you that the distance to the other side is eighteen miles. There are very infomrative organised tours by rangers and geologists to various pooints along the canyon rim. Huge binoculars are fixed at interesting points.

At Desert View, a little way along the rim, where a re-creation of an ancient Indian Watch Tower has been built, you get a marvellous view of the Painted Desert stretching away into Navaro Indian Country. It really looks painted, with so many colloured tints.

The only safe way to the bottom is by a mule track. Parties leave every morning. Thgis did not tempt me, and the last person to go to the bottom of the Grand Canyon on the back of a mule would be Enid M. Thirty years before, I would love to have run down it, but I was past that. At the bottom, there is a small suspension bridge over the Colorado leading to a small ranch where you can stay.

Geologists estimate that it has taken from seven to nine million years to cut the canyon. Books have been written about all sorts of amazing geological details. I was determined to come again, so i did not say goodbye to the good people at the Bright Angel Lodge.

On the way back, we had another night at Flagstaff. It was Halowe'en. The children really went to town with their fun and games. I had difficulty finding out how the electrical gadgets worked to make early nmorning coffee. Finally, I founf that the weight of water switched the pot on. All hotels provide morning coffee bits and pieces, so that you can take it when you want to.

We travelled back via Phoenix, where we had a break. We left Flagstaff at 6.30 a.m. Even after stops for meals and rests, we did the 534 miles to L.A. and arrived there at 5.30 p.m. These buses do move. Again, between Phoenix and L.A., we passed through some pretty awful desert. It would be very unhealthy to be stranded there during the hot weather.

We reached L.A. on the first of November. We were booked to leave San Francisco on the tenth. We wanted a few days there, so we said cheerio to Ivor and Co. on the sixth.

We had already seen a lot of the country on the Santa Barbara and Merced trips, but the trip through the San Joachim Valley is always refreshing. The fields are enormous. On this day, we saw aeroplanes spraying four times.

San Frnacisco really is one of the world's most beautiful cities. The city centre, with its opera house, Veteran'sa Memorial, Art Gallery, Library and so on, is a place to see. I met a chap who was keen to show us all over the opera house. We enjoyes the trips on the steep hills, in the cable cars, clanging up them, with passengers festooned around them. Also, we wnjoyed the wonderful view over the bay from the top of Suicide Tower. There are two spectacular bridges; Oakland, with its two layers of five lanes each, and then, of course, the Golden Gate Bridge, over the entrance to the bay.

We had promised to visit the parents of Mitzi's husband. They lived at Berkeley. We went over and had a day with them. So we saw over the enormous university with its lovely grounds.

We took a day's run north, over the Golden Gate to Santa Rosa, through giant Redwood trees, and through country lush and green like England. We enjoyed the cathedral service on the Sunday we were in San Francisco. It could have been in England, except that, following it, everybody was invited to take coffee together.

We had heard that the President boats were luxurious. The Persident Tyler proved to be so. I had been on all sorts of boats, but the luoxury cabvins on the Andorra Star were nothing like this. Only twelve passengers were carried, in double and single bed 'state rooms'. No bunks or portholes here. Our room had two large windows, four foot six square. There was walking distance between the two beds. there was a radio set at the head of each bed, and piped music according to taste, available all day if required. Baths and lav.s were in each cabin. Attached to our room was a high faluting wash cum spin drying machine with hot air dryer, so that one could wash and completely dry clothes in a very short time. There was no need ever to ring for the steward, because nearby there was always boiling water, coffee, tea, cocoa or milk drinks, laid on for you to help yourself. Sandwiches, fruit and biscuits were kept fresh in a deep freeze. If you wanted drink,. you went to a sideboard in the lounge and helped yourself to beer, spirits, or whatever you liked. Curiously, we only saw one of the women passengers help herself during the whole voyage. The meals were so good that I found I only helped myself to make a nightcat or an early cup of tea.

We had the run of the ship. We were able to go into the navigation parts, and down to the engine room. I spent a good time on the bridge. The captain and officers were willing to answer the questions I had. One day I was of use. A passing ship called on an Aldis lamp. The officer on watch was amazed when I took the lamp from him and did the works. He said his Morse was groggy, sand he was glad to let me do it.

After all my travelling, this was my first crossing of the 180 degree longitude, whewre one misses or picks up a day.

We arrived at Yokohama on the twelfth day out of San Francisco, and were met by lovely Kikuchi San at 2 p.m. She had been waiting for us all day. Goodness knows how we would have managed if she had not done so. We had booked in at Friends Centre, Tokyo, for ten days. Kikuchi San got us there by taxi and train. There was little evidence of the destruction I had seen on leaving Japan. Extensive rebuilding had taken place. Yokohama station was very much as I first saw it. It had been rebuilt much like the original.

The guest part of the centre was small. We joined a pleasant little 'family' of people there. There was Delia Domingo, a Phillipino, Eliza Foulke, who managed the place, an American, another American Janice Clevenger, and three japanese. Some of them were teachers at a large girls' school nearby.

WE were given a small map of that part of Tokyo. To get around, you have to know the way, and you have to show taxi drivers the way.

We had no time to dally around on our first evening. We found we were being 'organised'. After a hasty meal, we were off with Eliza and Kikichi San by taxi to meet a Dr. Kenneth Boulding. He gave a lecture on 'Disarmament as a way of peace'. He was doing a year at Tokyo University. This lecture was at the Community Centre. We met, and talked with, many Japanese and American members. We took off our shoes at the door, and donned one of the hundreds of pairs of slippers provided. It is an excellent idea to never enter a house or building in one's shoes. Every house had sufficient slippers for all visitors.

We lunched at the school, Japanese style, with chopsticks. It was rice balls and green tea. We bowed to everybody and everything. The bowing pantomime goes on all the time.

Next day, we were invited to the school for the school's fête and bazaar, with a concert and play as well. It began at 9 p.m., and included reports by the students on the school's activities. We very much enjoyed the play, Dicken's 'Christmas Carol', done in English. We were then taken over by some of the girls. They took us round the various classes, explaining the exhibits.

You have to book two weeks ahead to get onto a main line train. However, Kikuchi helped over our trip to Kobi, and we did get on.

On Sunday morning, we went to Quaker Meeting. People spoke in both English and Japanese. The forty present were mostly Japanese. In the afternoon, we went to a silk gallery, and saw magnificent s8lks at magnificent prices. The cheapest was over one pound per metre, quite a lot then.

We were lucky to attend the Kabuki theatre, which is booked out weeks in advance, as part of a school ticket. This was a gorgeous affair, with an enormous stage stretching the whole width of the theatre. The artists entered from the back, performing as they came along the catwalk. The play lasted from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m., without a dull moment. With the English translation, we got as excited as all the japanese around us.

The play, a political intrigue to poison the young heir to the throne and take over, was performed most dramatically. The production, dresses and scenery were stupendous. A lot of recitative was by one man in a peculiar rising and falling voice at one end of the stage, accompanied by one shamizen. The stage was so huge that scene changes went on in different parts of the satage while the play proceeded. The little men in black, in the dark, were hardly noticeable. The theatre was absolutely packed, and we were lucky to see all this. The play was followed with great intensity, right up to the last curtain. The final session of two dances took forty-five minutes. These were by one woman, accompanied by a band of nine shamizen, nine singers, one piccolo type instrument, and various small drums. The music was fascinating. I could see no conductor, but the timing was spot on all the time. The tempo varied considerably, and the exact time keeping was wonderful. If must have taken years of practice. All female parts were done by men, but it was impossible to tell this. Training from infancy is necessary to get them to this standard.

We thought we had seen the ultimate in electric night signs at Las Vegas or San
Francisco, but they were child's play compared with what is to be seen at night in Tokyo. The main sho;pping street, the Ginza, is one blaze of enormous, changing coloured patterns throughout its length.

We were up as six to catch the first morning express for Nikko. It was a lovely run through gardening country, where all kinds of enormous vegetables were grown. Nikko National Park has twofold glories. It has m,agnificent mountain scenery, and also the finest japanese handywork in the mausolea erected over the tombs of Tokugawa Ieyasu (1542 - 1616) and of his grandson Iemitsu. The shrine is a national treasure. No limit seems to have been set on the expenditure in its construction. Fifteen thousand men worked on it for two years. 2,489,900 sheets of gold were used to gild it. For the sight of so much goild, this can well be true. Splendid bas-relief carvings of bird and animal life, all in their beautiful colours, extend for long distances around the shrines in highly polished, very wide passageways. This is something the like of which cannot be seen in the west. After lunch, we met two American girls, and found ourselves bowing to each other as we said goodbye.

It is easy to get a meal. Cafés display all the meals provided, and one just points to what one wants. But you have to use chopsticks.

On the return journey, I was surprised to get a rebate because we were not on an express. We saw a really beautiful sight. Mount Fuji in all its glory was reflected in the flooded rice fields. Is could well be the most beautiful mountain in the world.

Getting a stamp.

Yes! Getting a stamp! We heard that it was some effort to get to a post office. Having all morning to spare, and having something about my old age pension, which I had received in Los Angeles, and which was not to be sent before November 11, we thought we would try it. With the letter was a smapp slip of paper on which was printed, in almost every language including Chinese, that it could be exchanged for a stamp. It was worth about a shilling. As we went down the road, we started asking for a post office, but without any luck. Towards the busy shopping area, people started to get interested. An old woman started to follow us. When se stopped, she caught up with us, and pointed ahead. We let her carry on, and sure enough, she led us to a small place which was a P.O. I presented my letter and the slip of paper without a word. Then the fun started. The young woman looked bewildered, and turned to those sitting behind her. A man took it, and suddenly everybody started roaring with laughter, including the small Japanese girl standing beside me, waiting to do some business. I couldn't help but start laughing too. After things quietened down a bit, I saw that he was beginning to draw a street map to show me where to go. But the little girl said something and, screwing up the piece of paper, he signed for me to go with the girl. So off we went. After we had gone some way, I got out my dictionary and asked; "Was it far?" She shook her head, so off we went again. Eventually, we came to a building, where wshe took us right up to the counter to explain. So, for my miserable scrap of paper, I got my stamp. It was worth more than a shilling for the fun and games we had.

The haircut that did not come off.

I needed a haircut, so we went in where we saw the universal barber's pole. There were only three men and one girl waiting, so we sat down. We soon saw that we might be oin for a long wait, because you got everything; haircut, shampoo and shave. We had promised to be back early for another appoi9ntment, but we would hang around as long as possible. The girl's turn came, and she hopped into a chair. She was a pretty kid of sixteen or seventeen. To our amazement, the barber started lathering the back of her neck, and shaved it. This was not all. He then tilted the chair right back, lathered her face copletely, and this he shaved too. So I found out the reason for the wonderful smoothness of Japanese women's faces. We could wait no longer, and had to leave.

Tokyo Tower.

This is the highest tower of its kind, and was within walking distance of out lodging. The tower straddles the studios and transmitting rooms of the various television companies.

Having bought our tickets, and having been directed by a 'pin up' Japanese maiden, we were packed in the lift, and shot up to the large observation platform. This is a beautiful, glassed in area. It can hold many hundreds of people, giving a wonderful view over Tokyo and the surrounding country. Binoculars are set up at many points, to see particular places. The television studios on lower floors are glass fronted, so programmes being televised can be seen. On other floors are telephones, electronics, electrical engineering, and many other exhibitions.

The teachers at the school had said how nice it would be if one of us would give a talk to the girls. Enid M. said I would do better than her, so I said I would. So off we went one morning at 8 O'clock, to join in the equivalent of school chapel. My talk was interpreted by one of the japanese teachers who spoke good English. The school hall was full, with all the 650 girls present. This was an experience I would not have missed for worlds. I was almost mesmerised by the way the whole of these 650 girls paid attention to every word I said. There was no movement the whole time. I thought how different it was talking to a crowd of English kids. But all seemed to enjoy it, and the headmistress thanked me profusely. We were taken round the school by one of the American teachers. In one class, we joined a senior English lesson. Looking at their maths books, Enid M., a mathematician, thought the standard was that of the same age group in England.

Again, we spent some time with the Head. There was one American, one Phillipino, and several Japanese teaching English. The Japanese spoke English poorly.

I was surprised to find that they have very few English visitors. That is why we were treated like V.I.P.s.

Ordinary school ends at fifteen. 60% of the girls go on to high school. Practically all go into industry, and none to do housework as they used to.

An evening party was held in our honour. Some twenty intellectuals were invited, including Dr. Habicht, whom we had heard a few evenings before lecturing on peace. He was Swiss, and one of the leaders in the Federation for World peace. The headmistress was there, and also Hiroshi Sakamoto, the head of japanese overseas broadcasting. He asked us to spend a day with hi8m, but we were so booked up that we could not fit it in. This was a great pity. It was a most interesting evening, and we took the floor for a great deal of it.

During all these comings and goings I never once mentioned that I had been to Japan before. I made sure never to use Japanese phrases I had picked up. I often wondered what the atmosphere would have been like, at the party for instance, had I mentioned that I had been a P.O.W. at Kawasaki. And again, I wondered; were these the same people who had shown such a cruel streak as we experienced as P.O.W.s? We received nothing but kindness from everybody with whom we came into contact.

Certainly, when we decided to stay in Japan for a while, we never dreamt that we would get tied up so much. Somehow, news about us got around, and we were asked to go and spend the night with a small club at Mito, a town two hours away by express, north of Tokyo and near the coast. One of the people we stayed with had written about us to her friends at Mito who were associated with a small English language club, and had suggested that it would be nice for them if we went along and talked to them. We were only too glad to do so.

We were met at Mito station by a young married woman and two young men, who were teachers at the high School. The two chaps took us to a restaurantfor a nice supper, before going with us to the English language discussion group. Here we joined about twelve others, mostly young. There were two mothers. This surprised me, as women do not normally take part in things like this. All we had to do was talk about England and English life as simply as we could. This went down very well. This was a remote spot. so I hoped to stay at a Japanese Inn. But we were in for something better. We were to stay the night with one of them. We were taken to the tiny flat of Masatoshi and Sachiku Murakami. He was an atomic engineer at the 'Japan Atomic Energy Research Institute'. He had visited our atomic power stations and Harwell. Even someone in this position lived in a tiny two roomed flat. It is extremely rare to stay under a private roof, and we were very fortunate to do so. He knew we slept on beds. Japanese always sleep on the floor. A bed had been conjured up with all sorts of bits and pieces, so that we were off the floor. Up in the corner, her tiny dressing table, at which she would kneel, was allmost of doll's house proportions. Just under the low ceiling was a tiny Shinto shrine. They had stretched a sheet across the living room to allow themselves a little privacy. The bath was as usual; an over sized copper. After soaping yourself, you squatted in boiling hot water after washing down by tipping bowls of water over yourself. Like our old fashioned coppers, it was heated by a fire underneath. It was just deep enough, so that you could be covered up to the neck. On two rare occasions at Kawasaki, I and the others had been allowed to use the community bath at Nippon Steel. The bath was about five foot square and four foot deep. It had a seat around it to sit on with the water just up to your nexk. This came after soaping down and swishing off. The water is always very hot. I don't know if it is the same now. The community bath was the normal thing, and both sexes shared in it. It was a goods time to discuss radio programmes and so on.

Next day, we were taken to visit the first old people's home in Japan. It had been started by an American missionary, but was now taken over by the authorities, who planned to have more. The warden was very keen to get all the information he could from us about the homes in England. The set up was quite good, with separate rooms, and much attention paid to warmth.

In many parts of Tokyo, the streets were terribly pot-holed. It was difficult to walk, let alone drive a car. Private cars were rare. Although we seemed to meet the middle class, we met no one who owned a car; not even the Director of Overseas Broadcasting and the atomic engineer.

Kamakura.

The lovely Kikuchi San came with us the forty miles to Kamakura. The shrines are not as gorgeous as at Nikko, but they are as important. They are more historic. One is that of Tsurugaoka Hachimagu, founded in 1063. The big draw for me was because of a picture in my school reader. This was of Daibutsu, the great bronze Buddha. This enormous piece of bronze was originally in a large wooden building which was burnt down and destroyed in a storm in 1369. As it withstood the weather after that, it has been in the open ever since. Cast in 1252, it is a very fine specimen of the art of casting. I noted some of the measurements; height 42 feet 6 inches, length of face 7 feet eight inches, eyes 3 feet 5 inches.

Kamakura is a favourite bathing place for Tokyo people. It gets overcrowded, but we were out of season, among only a handful of people in the museum to gaze upon the golden Buddha and other wonderful exhibits. We did not see a man with his wife out together. There was very little smoking, none by women. There were no bus or train tickets dropped on the street anywhere.

It was fun getting onto the local trains. These are always crowded. One joins one of the many queues which line up opposite where the train doors stop. 'Packers' cram in as many people as they possibly can, and off goes the train. Trains follow each other almost without break, so one soon gets on one. We got caught up in rush hour traffic at the main station one evening. It was an object lesson in how a well disciplined, well mannered people can behave. It was marvellous to stand aside and watch the way everybody took their turn, was courteous, and helped each other. These are the busoiest stations in the world. Compared with Tokyo, our main station rush hours are a picnic.

To Kobe.

If only I had known what we were going to run into in Tokyo, I would have arranged for a much longer stay. But wqe were booked to leave Kobe on December second, and we wanted to have time there for a look see. So, with regrets all round, we said goodbye to the very many friends we had made. Dear Kikuchi San came to the station with us, and kept with us until we pulled out. There was no doubt that she was very sorry that we were leaving. I could have kissed her, as one does in Frence, but that just is not done in Japan.

The trains in Japan have to be seen to be believed. There is nothing like them anywhere else, certainly not in Europe. We did the 365 miles with stops at all the important cities in seven hours at just over fifty miles per hour, and it seemed as though the train was just sliding along. It was full, but no standing or extra passengers. As I have said, it was necessary to book a seat days before on main line expresses.We made stops at Yokohama, Maibara, Kyoto and Osaka. Well before getting to a stop, an announcement would be made telling people to be ready to hop off as the train would stop for only two minutes, and it did just that.

Leaving Tokyo, every passenger was given a plastic bag to put rubbish in, and right from leaving Tokyo, beautifully dressed gorls came through the compartment with tea, ice cream, fruit and food of all sorts. Periodically, the trash man appeared to clean up.

We passed through wonderful scenery. It was nostly mountainous, although one large level stretch was given over to rice. It had just been harvested. The bundles of rice were strung along bamboo lines to dry. All the places where we stopped were large industrial centres, and looked it.

Getting out of the station, all we had to do was show a taxi man the position on the map, which we had been given in Tokyo, where our hotel was, and we were soon there. We arrived at Kobe just before 4 p.m., so had ample time to get out and have a good run round in daylight before seeing the blaze of colour which was almost up to Tokyo standards. We were much impressed by an amazing shopping ares. It had covered streets from which traffic was barred. There were shops of all types loaded with goods, and crowds of people shopping. It was good entertainment for me. One does no eat in hotels. A tasty meal caught our eyes in the window, in we went, to use the inevitable choipsticks once more.

The next day was Sunday. We saw a notice on the board with details of a service at the Union Shurch, so we went there. We asked at the hotel desk. The chap dived under the counter, and from amongst a bunch of maps he produced one which got us to the Union Church. We were in time for the 'Sunday School', which consisted of all grown up men and women. It was typically American, as most of the congregation were. There wqas a nice organ. The organist was good, and played a bit of the best of Buxtehude. There was a youngish choir, and the singing went with gusto.

After church, we slowly climbed up a wonderful gorge. We went up thousands of steps and steep paths to a reservoir and sight seeing points high above Kobe, passing alovely waterfall on the way.

In the evenging, we went through the 'high brow' Motomachi shopping street. This was another covered way, with many beautiful shops. As we had time to kill, we went to the docks nearby to have a look at the Patroclus, the Blue Funnel boat on which we were to sail home. We did not go up the gangway, as it was all darkness, and there was no life on board. Strange that I had made my first long voyage on a Blue Funnel boat, the Tyndareous, on which I had nearly come a cropper off Cape Agulhas! Was I to make my last voyage on a Blue Funnel?

We were not wanted on board until late afternoon. This gave us another day in Kobe. This soon passed, as we found much of interest.

Like the President Tyler, the Patroclus carried few passengers, and the accomodation was as spacious. Our 'Room' was quite as big as on the American boat. Here too we had windows which, although not quite as big, did open. We did share bath and lav. with the next rooms. There was no help-yourself kitchen or drink sideboard, but a bar which seemed to be open at all times.

[Ivor Catt has typed it so far. oct98. Write to me if you are anxious for the rest.]

typed by Ivor Catt, sept 97 My father's autobiography from his birth up to 1963 is now all typed up into the computer. (Three quarters of it is now typed.) It will help P.M. to determine the level of significance for the TEL story of a career which has parallels. (Ivor is too close, so his judgement is valueless.)

Ivor Catt 4.10.97

5oct02; Continued at http://www.electromagnetism.demon.co.uk/2a5what5.htm