I have been wanting to post my grandparents journey from Australia to Britain by ship and then through Europe by car in 1954. I was entranced reading it, having only found my grandmother's account of it three years ago.
It is a remarkable look at the time and attitudes and a glimpse of post-war Britain and Europe through my grandmother's eyes. I transcribed the hand-written diary of the trip and have shared it below, including my notes for clarification. It is a long document but well worth reading. After reading it I felt I had spent time with her again. She died four years after the trip, aged 66 when I was 6, but I remember her well.
Greenie, as we all called my grandmother, hated flying and Pop had business meetings arranged in the UK and Europe and took his wife on a 9-week cruise to get there. My grandfather had lost an arm during the first World War and had ordered a custom-made Ford Zephyr that he could drive, to be picked up in England and which they drove around the UK and Europe and brought back to Australia by ship.
MY INITIAL NOTES:
Greenie (Lillian Minnie) and Pop (Edwin Albert)
Greenwood’s tour of Europe 1954 transcribed from Greenie’s hand-written diary
by Kim Dessaix, their maternal granddaughter in 2020. Pop and Greenie had two children – Ron and
Beverley. Ron married Margaret Taylor
and had two children, Malcolm and Debbie.
Beverley married William Norman Prior and had one child, a daughter, Kim
(Frances Kim Prior), who transcribed this diary in 2020, sixty-six years after
it was written.
I have only one photo of Greenie and
Pop’s British section of their journey and have inserted ones from the Internet
of historic places they visited there, however, Pop purchased a camera in Europe and took many photos there, only some of which I have included.
I have researched the SS Ceramic, on which Greenie said they sailed to England. The first SS Ceramic was
sunk by a German torpedo in 1942 many years earlier. A second SS Ceramic, a refrigerated cargo steamship, was built in England in 1948. This type of ship also took passengers, and this must be the ship on which they sailed.
I have attempted to transcribe the diary as
Greenie wrote it with exceptions.
Instead of writing “It’s” she would write “Tis” and there are also some
abbreviations I have expanded. I have
added some punctuation and paragraphs.
The diary is sometimes in note form but cohesive enough. I have placed ‘(?)’s in place of words I
can’t decipher and ‘(?)’ directly after words of which I am not certain.
There are some comments that readers will consider racist but I am transcribing exactly what was written without judgement. At one stage she mentions darkies and another, negroes. This was as she wrote it. Suffice to say Greenie had a kind heart, as you will be able to tell from reading, and her attitudes did not amount to meanness. I have come from a family, of which she is an integral part, that is not at all racist. These were terms used by some in those times and, in her case, not with malice.
THE DIARY BEGINS:
To anyone interested.
Our trip to England, Scotland and Continent by Ship and Zephyr car.
To these only would we return again:
-
England
-
Ayrshire
-
Switzerland
-
Perhaps
Germany
-
Holland
We did not visit Vienna, Austria, capital of Germany or Denmark, Sweden, Norway.
I had too little time at night as weary and footsore through sightseeing. Oh and so much to see.
Composition and spelling very incorrect in this
diary.
(Signed) Lily G.
SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA.
We leave Sydney, Australia 13/3/54 and return
15/10/54. Reach Plymouth, England 14/5/54
just ahead of the Queen from Australia. (My note: the Queen had visited Australia beginning on February 3, 1954 for two months.)
S.S. Ceramic.
A very nice cabin, No. 30, and a very nice steward. Firstly we sat at Chief Engineer’s table, who
is very, or was, strict regarding arriving punctually to meals, later I might
add, was quite often 20 minutes late himself.
He joined a before dinner drinking party and I feel sure he was not in
the habit of doing so. Our table of
seven, 2 couples and Chief and a rather fussy old gentleman and spinster lady
of 47 or thereabouts. She really knew
everything. No one could trip her up on
any subject. It was most annoying. She monopolised the Chief all the way and, I
believe, later. We were very
disappointed in the Chief. Captain and
Mrs. Ireland were alright at first. We
found the Captain Ireland always a dear and courteous gentleman but
unfortunately Mrs I. was a social climber and it was so obvious.
As Sir Ronald and Lady
Cross boarded the ship at Tasmania with their two daughters, the latter were
only bound for Melbourne and played the piano expertly, the elder one, 15 years
having played with the Symphony Orchestra, our Mrs I. ran round ship all the
afternoon trying to present a bunch of dark red roses to Lady Cross. Nice thought of course, but they ended up on
our dining table.
(My note: Sir Ronald
Cross was made Governor of Tasmania in 1951.
He was a member of the British House of Commons and, earlier, had been
British High Commissioner to Australia.)
We mostly disliked the
Sir and Lady at first, but I did not realize that, not only was she very tired
after the Queen’s visit, but had a much greater problem on her mind, this told
me by Sophie in Tasmania and so, of course, no wonder she wished to remain
aloof. Later she was rather
wonderful. She led the Conga through
galley on party night.
We liked most of the
passengers, some, but only a few, drank too much and became a little tiresome
but the rest of the crowd were very nice especially passengers bound for South
Africa. The trouble with some of the
passengers was the boredom for them, nine weeks too long especially towards end
of journey, but I loved it and wished it longer and having even to go through
the tropics. The Governor looked just
anybody and hot and miserable and his shirt out of his trousers. I could not sleep at night as the nights were
worst so I crawled out and curled up on a deck chair on deck to watch the dawn
coming.
Since we were in very
quiet waters, one cannot imagine the stillness of everything, not even a bird
about. We met up with the awesome fog
here and horn blowing every sixty seconds for five hours and again for four
hours. The swimming pool was only in
operation for about four days, as weather became too cold again, but during the
dreadful heat it looked wonderful. Pop
did not go in and very few of the women went into it. Mornings for passengers and afternoons up
till four o’clock and then the engineers, then passengers until dinner time and
at night when dark, about 9 o’clock and no lights, the crew sneaked in, in the
nude.
Food very poor,
although a long menu. Pork, lamb, veal
and poultry under cooked. English fish,
awful puddings, heavy jellies etc. sloppy.
Most of the passengers seem to go right through the menu. One night for pictures (cinema), one night
for dancing, one night for housie, one night horse racing and Sunday night
classical music to which no one listened as reception awful and loud. On the whole happy atmosphere where one
passenger as important as the other and no rules or regulations to speak of.
Chief steward also
purser is a very charming person and very helpful had a tough job as second
steward became so ill at Melbourne he was compelled to go to bed and was not
expected to reach Capetown and, when we did arrive, he was put into hospital. We left a greaser at Tasmania as he fell in
bath and hurt his back and so he had to stay in hospital at Tasmania for two
months and in plaster.
Sophie and husband
very kind and took us out to orchard and supplied us with fruit but we had too
much on ship and then at Melbourne a beautiful supply was sent on ship to us of
nuts, figs, pineapple and plums and every kind of fruit, including grape fruit. We had to give most of it to steward and it
was an immense parcel. Of course I do
not eat fruit on board ship, ‘too acid’ for sea sickness. Pop was ill in Tasmania with ‘flu, caught it
from hairdresser, then gave it to me.
We played deck golf, a
very absorbing game and skill needed, and a good flow of bad language. The very nice Brigadier on the ship would not
play at first as he used to let fly some choice words but he managed to control
his words later and laughed at himself.
He and his wife were dears and both so handsome. Sometimes I feel so sorry that I will not
meet some of the very nice people again especially those who were so kind to me
when I was ill. The South African chap
who bought me flowers etc.
A few nights before
leaving ship there was a mock trial held and Miss Pile (Jose and Pris know of
her) was the prisoner and she played the part so well. All the officers came up on sports deck and I
had them at my back and I thought they would push my deck chair over they were
convulsed. She came into court,
policemen either side of her, and she was dressed in hessian to the knees only
and arrows painted on the rough hessian and a balloon tied to each bare foot,
representing ball and chains, but she was excellent and so were the council and
judge. The next evening Captain’s farewell party and he was such a nice host
and Sir Ronald Cross proposed a toast to him and did it splendidly and the
Captain came up to reply like a big dear.
Our free night, community singing proposed by Miss Pile and other few
girls very successful and happy and Lady Cross sang as loudly as any from
Jingle Bells to Waltzing Matilda.
7/6/1954
CAPETOWN, SOUTH AFRICA.
9 coloured people to 2
white at this time I hear. We go ashore
at Capetown, very modern, very hot and too many coloured people, Indians
becoming a menace. There were also
Afrikaners, Negroes. Some women
carrying babies on their backs, Muslim women and garishly dressed natives. Post Office the finest in the world I hear
and believe. Shops large and modern as
most of the buildings are. Native quarter
very small single fronted cottages right on foot path and washing hanging in
the street. Table Mountain most
impressive and seems to change colour on top at sunset.
14/6/1954
PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND.
We arrive at Plymouth
and stand about waiting for two cars to be lifted off and put on tender and finally
we board tender and across water to Customs and another long wait but accompanied
by our T (?) and Meadows man who took charge of us on SS Ceramic. Passengers now all go their different
ways. Most of them to boat train, a six
hour journey to London. We get our new
Zephyr car and after lunch we take her out for trial, the trial of course being
finding our way round and going the right way round in a one way street. What I shall never forget is my first glimpse
of the poor battered town of Plymouth.
One cannot imagine it, it looked terrible and one immediately thinks of
the casualties. These English must have
been brave and so cheerful. Seven nights
in succession had been spent in shelters during that awful time.
One man told us that
while he was doing Home Guard work, a doodle bug came over and he had about 200
odd people in his shelter and suddenly someone said “Rat!” and in spite of the
blitz going on the shelter was empty in two minutes. 200 human beings, one rat and a hellish
blitz!
Stayed at Plymouth Hoe
at Grand Hotel. Plymouth Hoe is a
wonderful sight and something to remember.
(My note from Wikipedia:
Plymouth Hoe, referred to locally as the Hoe,
is a large south-facing open public space in the English coastal city of Plymouth. ... The name derives from the Anglo-Saxon word Hoe,
a sloping ridge shaped like an inverted foot and heel.)
Next night at Bath, just in
time to get into Roman Baths, most refreshing especially hot spring if true and
how lovely they must have been. Bath an
immense place and I think very lovely but traffic frightful.
Pop and Greenie, Brighton, UK
(My note: one of only two
photos taken in UK. I can’t find a
reference to Brighton in the diary, however, Greenie has written “Brighton, England”,
on the back of this photo and “Frightfully windy”. Brighton is to the east of Plymouth as is
Bath, but further east and south of Bath.
I am placing the photo here as Greenie and Pop may have gone to Brighton
before heading north to Knutsford or they may have visited it on the way back
from Scotland, however, I can’t be certain.)
The journey from Plymouth to
Bath and thence to Knutsford very lovely to see all the land so well cultivated
and criss-crossed by these old, but very
sound, stone hedges and this you can see for miles round you, no waste land hardly
to speak of and lilac all pink and deep red and blue bells everywhere.
KNUTSFORD.
(My note: they stay 3 weeks
in Knutsford.)
I read of Mrs. (My note:
Elizabeth) Gatskill’s fame, her book of Mary Barton, and friend of Charlotte
Bronte, and the former, put Knutsford on the map so to speak, and so all locals
very proud of her, by all accounts she was a strong character and I have seen
her death mask, very strong face.
Knutsford a very nice
friendly town. All shopkeepers very
courteous and friendly and just as nice if you give them no end of trouble and
then leave without purchasing anything.
Such nice frocks and materials and shoes and books but such funny little
shops, as though trying to efface themselves.
Streets just about as wide as Rowe Street, Sydney but fortunately one
way traffic. Steps of houses, and steep
also, come right onto road, so imagine the scram I make and only when, so it
seems to me, all the London traffic passes.
Dogs. I have never seen so many dogs. Little mothers with perhaps two children in
pram and a dog on lead but the only black spot in this village was that the
dogs were so dirty on footpaths and over milk bottles which were not collected
until nearly midday and they had cardboard tops. It really was revolting and such a variety of
dogs. How odd!
We
go to Tatton Hall owned by Lord Egerton (My note: Greenie spells it Edgerton
but I have corrected) a very wealthy bachelor but eighty. He himself took us through with others and
sat down to tea with us also. There were
three afternoon tea tables, our table seating twenty four people and Pop and I
accidentally at head of table. His home
and grounds lovely but pictures, books and furniture wonderful. Three grand pianos, a huge movie camera and a
large organ, all this with his hundreds of kills, moose head etc. and
elephants. He was a big game hunter and
in this huge room, the size of large Town Hall of Mosman (NSW), are all walls
covered with his kills. He is very good
regards charity but now bitter and self-centered, but seems to prefer the
working class to the “Nobbs”.
It
seems, when young, he fell in love with a wealthy farmer’s daughter and his
people would not have it and so sent him to Africa for three years, but what
made him bitter was the fact that his and her letters were intercepted and
neither heard again until 3 years and by the time he returned, she had thought
he had no longer wanted her and she had married and from then on he hated his
parents and all women and girls and left home.
I was told this in confidence and only a South African knows this, so I
hear, so he just wandered all over the world and cared not one whit for his
lovely home which he later inherited.
When he dies, it goes to some far distant relative whom the Trustees
have just found. Lord Egerton owned the
Town Hall and sold this whilst we were there and many other buildings including
hotels and only charged his tenants about 3/9 per week and his farm tenants
paid nothing. He had a row with
Knutsford Council and took Town Hall away and made it into a youth club, boys,
no girls or women use it.
I
enjoyed my stay in Knutsford and on leaving went to say goodbye to Lord
Egerton’s lodge keeper, Mrs. Bailey, and she invited me in and I wondered where
I would sit as a cat asleep on three chairs.
As she had been at the lodge 45 years and never been through Tatton Hall,
Lord Edgerton’s home, she made me describe it all.
The “Ye Angel Hotel”
where we stayed has a very lovely ball room.
A lot of weddings held here. I
drank quite a lot of beer and find I do not like it very much. We had Danish beer on ship, it was very
nice. Our bedroom was over the bar and
consequently the noise was terrific especially which included a couple of
yapping dogs, the bar, I mean voices arguing and we could actually hear what
they were saying but after 10.30pm they were put out and it seemed as though
the world had stopped and all sound.
Still it did not irritate us.
Goodbye Knutsford (and our waiter Ronnie Drinkwater, one of ten
children).
We make for
Windermere. Of course we arrive at Whitsunday
(or whatever it’s called) weekend and Saturday afternoon and here shops open
all day and holiday crowd. Children,
dogs, cars of every description and narrow streets and all cross roads and Pop
and I feel caught in a huge web so after a short and very hurried look round we
literally fled, but the lakes are very much like our Pittwater only the hills
surrounding them are higher and the whole is much larger, but not anything like
the peace of our Pittwater. En route to
Troon (My note: Scotland) after rushing from Windermere, we had a look for a
bed and, as the inns and houses are not so clean and well catered for as the
English places, we were very dubious, but found a likely house, very peaceful
and clean and, believe it or not, no electricity, only candles but as twilight
so long we were in bed by 10pm and daylight to spare.
Just nine people in
this place run by Miss Horton and all so nice.
We made plenty of noise at our two meals and all waved goodbye. Next stop Troon. First two days very quiet and wet as this
hotel is practically on beach and oh what a dirty beach, black sand, so it
appears but really covered with cinders from where they come no one here can
say. But last Sunday all and sundry,
people and children, were in front and along beach and bathing and so cold we
thought and again, dogs and dogs. They
are even accepted in hotels. We have
already had 2 in sunroom and upstairs lounge the large Airedale goes up to his
owner’s room. He sat (the dog I mean)
beside us in lounge whilst we were having our afternoon tea and washed himself
all over and took such a time that even his owner couldn’t put up with it any
longer.
I went into Galston
with Pop last Thursday to mills and enjoyed myself very much indeed. Was very fascinated by machinery and
workers. Friday another mill owner and
his sweet little wife took me to look over Culzean Castle, very lovely, very
well preserved and first Earl was believed to have thrown his unwanted wives
over his battlement into sea. The first
room (of interest to men only) was covered with every kind of sword, guns,
pistols and every other murderous weapon, but all arranged on walls so
beautifully as to form a sunrise or some other effect. Carpets and curtains 200 years old and look
it of course.
Paintings of the
family very lovely (Van Dyck, Kneler(?) and Renoir) and furniture of course
splendid. The stables looked as
impressive as the castle itself. The
council has presented General Eisenhower with the top suite, third floor and,
of course, being and American he wants a lift put in for him (so would I) but
authorities will not do so saying it would spoil the lovely staircase, which is
certainly lovely, being a wide spiral type, but of course it could have a lift
on an outside wall and camouflaged it and the country now collect thousands of
pounds, so we hear, from visitors lots(?) Americans. The general is permitted to allow any of his
special friends to use this suite when in Scotland. It would be quite OK if they only came back
to it to (?) sleep.
Culzean Castle (Internet photo)
Then we went on to the Abbey ruins.
Crossraguel Abbey, Scotland. I
found these more interesting as they were built by the naughty old monks and it
must have been magnificent when built, even a very good sanitary system which
an eternal spring made possible but the way it was built was amazing and so
clever. Dovecote, solitary confinement
cell, guest rooms, choir chapel with a sound system which made the singing heard
from all over Abbey and several different chapels, but of course, this is all
largely ruin now but with any kind of imagination at all one can picture its
original glory. The monks had somewhere
to bathe by again utilizing another spring.
Later the baddies (one of the Earl’s and his soldiers – he owned it too
and was an Abbot) wrecked the place and gradually the stones were taken by
surrounding farmers to build their houses and fences with and so the ruin only
left now but it is so very interesting.
Crossraguel Abbey (Internet photo)
We have two Canadians
staying here. Young with beautiful girl
of 2 years, but she is so lively that the father (who is so very handsome and
charming) takes over the child and manages her entirely but he adores her and
she him. The little mother is sweet and
we like her very much also but so sorry for her as she gets so tired but I
believe Science can put a plastic tube in her heart to make up for injured
valve. We took (or rather we drove them
and they took us, as we do get lost here) to a beautiful hotel in Turnbury. I have never seen anything like it. I could imagine this on American continent
but not here. It is modern and built on
the most sumptuous scale. It has a very
elaborate swimming pool indoors, but because of crowd using it, it has to have
chlorine in it and it affects the eyes.
This hotel is rather elevated having some 60 steps well graded I should
say with landing between each ten steps.
Tennis players must use these steps, but we drove along a red gravel
drive and then up right round to back of hotel to beautiful brick
courtyard. Cars are out of sight and
hotel remains without any cars blocking any view. These Canadians took us there to afternoon
tea, but as usual, it was terrible and they told us it would be. Good hotels, poor food.
Pop would eat the
strawberry tarts and of course had a bad attack of indigestion and I would not
let him go to sleep at night, until he had finished with these awful deep
seated burps. I also gave him brandy. When he had his heart attack years ago it
started with awful burps and I was quite worried, but he is OK and when we are
out I feel sure the friends we are with think I am very hard on him but poor old Pop cannot
resist. He even pleads with me to stop
him eating anything that does not suit him.
I could shake him. So we have
seen Turnbury Hotel. Turnbury is
somewhere near Girvan towards Prestwick.
Somewhere near Turnbury we drove along road called Electric Hill. Looks like steep hill but is quite flat – car
ran (up) in neutral.
That was Monday
14/6/1954, my mistake, it was Saturday 12/6/1954. Sunday we just loafed, driving round and
round all the different ‘round-a-bouts’ and is very tiring. Monday Pop and I drove to Glasgow or, as it
is pronounced ‘Glaazgo’, to one of the manufacturer’s house and had morning tea
with his very energetic but charming wife and then we drove to a large shop and
I bought Marg’s twin set for £11-0-3 and it has to be sent to ship.
Now £21-0-0. Didn’t get a chance to look round but may go
in another day alone (but I don’t). We
then rushed to a place called Drymen to an hotel called The Buchanan Arms and
the proprietor was in his kilts. He
looked so nice, just the size of Ron.
This place has a garden across the road to which all visitors and
residents of hotel go for a walk and at the top of slight incline we come upon
a grand view of Loch Lomond. It was
marvellous (?) Ben Lomond.
We then drove on to Trossachs and this also very
grand with the different loch’s round the places we passed. Beside the road we pass darling wee lambs
with black faces and black shoes and stockings.
I would have loved to have brought two of them home for Kim and
Malcolm. These lambs with their very
dirty and shaggy mothers lie on roadside and one has to swerve past them. They are quite used to traffic and are not
afraid as ours are. I also saw Highland
cattle. They are so ugly because of
their long straggling hairy coat.
Pop is trying to speak Scotch but cannot any more
than I can manage it beyond a wee bit of ‘purridge’ or ‘Och I’ (aye). So contagious is the accent that when the
waiter comes to me and asks if I wanted a “wee bit of porridge” I find myself
saying “I (ay) joost a wee bit.” Believe
me, we are getting some laughs. One day
I read an article in paper about a visitor to these parts, or rather
England. Most people have to ask the way
to some place and in the paper the driver was trying to get the directions to
Buxton, so he asked a man how to get there.
Reply – “Wha yer wunt ta goo ta Booxton fuur? No n’t thar, noo
Manchester, thar is summit.” However, to
cut this short after a long parley the driver of car finally got instructions
after many revisions of above and at last drove away only to find himself
entering Manchester. This made us laugh
as, after leaving Lancaster (a vast town) we asked a policeman the way to
Troon. His reply, “Wha doon yer goo ter
Blackpool?” He, poor man didn’t know
what we were laughing at and was pleased to think we had made a joke. But this appears to be a great habit of the
English yokels or Scottish because they wish you to go to their favourite town.
After out day out to Trossach’s yesterday Pop
and I drove home here and leaving our host and hostess at 9.30 we arrived here
at 11pm and broad daylight still. I do
love this twilight. I am spending today
in bed, up for meals though. It’s
raining incessantly and pouring down the outside of our window and the sea
looks so rough and dirty. We are facing
the Firth of Clyde. It’s right outside
our window. A strong lass walked into
our bedroom at Troon, she have a little gasp.
Had she come earlier she would have screamed I feel sure, Pop
undressing.
This sweet little Canadian child of two who is
here has just told her nice Daddy to pipe down so she is in disgrace. As her mother gets really desperate at times
I gave her one page of your latest letter, Bev, regarding Kim and garbage tin
and her other pranks and she was so uplifted to realize that her babe was not
the only one to get up to tricks.
Because it is wet they are leaving tomorrow. I am so sorry and they told me they missed us
yesterday. I hope we meet again. Pop has just walked into some woman’s bedroom
and was glanced at.
Haddon Hall, very old and has a beautiful stream
full of trout. The river Wye and we
could see the trout jumping. This castle
was (built) about 1530 or thereabouts, but must write about this later and the
famous Peacock Inn where a maid from there eloped with one of the Duke of
Rutland’s sons. Maid Dorothy
Vernon. There is a book called Dorothy
Vernon. We lunched at this Inn whilst at
Knutsford.
June 1954.
KNUTSFORD TO CHATSWORTH HOUSE.
Must write again about our lovely trip to
Chatsworth House. It really was the
greatest of all our sightseeing. I have
never seen such magnificent art, both paintings and sculpture, and one of the
guides or stewards, so elderly and courteous, took a fancy to us. The present Duke of Devonshire (Chatsworth
Hall is in Devonshire), Lady Macmillan’s brother, is quite young. He is the eleventh Earl and lives in a
smaller house nearby but his elder brother, who died in 1944 (and before his
brother the tenth Duke died) had not succeeded to the title. He was a major in last war (1939-1945),
unmarried and very handsome and would be about Ron’s age, 33, but had such a
good, clean, intelligent and strong face and fine hands. His father died three years ago and only
fifty-eight and so of course death duties very heavy.
To describe Chatsworth House fully would take
too long but its library and tapestries and grounds and fountains were
breathtaking. One thing I must
describe. In the music room it had a
type of double door, one door behind the other and only partly open. The back one had a violin painted on it and
so realistic that hundreds of visitors went up to it and attempted to move it
and touch it. I have bought an
illustrated catalogue of this and will keep it with these notes. (My note: it is no longer with the
diary.) The beauty of these grounds is
unbelievable and they have cascades and fountains and kept in such perfect
order and trees and shrubs and flowers so lovely. Inner courtyard interesting. Weeping Ash hundreds of years old.
(My note: The next 5 paragraphs were taken from further on in the diary. I think Greenie didn't think she had written enough about Chatsworth House and so I have moved them here.) I had forgotten Chatsworth House near Peacock Inn and Haddon Hall. Chatsworth House is the most magnificent of all our sightseeing so far. (My note: some of the next four lines Greenie has mentioned earlier but she has added more information after that.) The eldest son was a Major in last war and was killed in 1944 (23 years old). Would have now been 33 and had a fine strong, clean and handsome face, with fine good hands if portrait true to life. As he died before his father, the 10th Duke, he was never a Duke, his father being only dead three years, so now the second eldest son is the 11th Duke of Devonshire of Derbyshire. He lives with his wife and two children in small place nearby. This House and its gorgeous paintings and library and sculptures is all so breathtaking. (Sculpture, a boy with a dog and mother and child (exquisite) and two lovely, large vases on pedestals either side of room.) I have never seen such beautiful art and, as a young child, I spent my odd hours at the Melbourne Art Gallery and knew by heart all the paintings but these paintings I cannot describe and so have bought back a book on all this.
That heaven could be like it all, to look through windows at them made you feel at peace and rested. Fountains, cascades and a little place where Mary Queen of Scots is said to have rested. She must have been a very tired lady as, by all accounts in Scotland, she has hidden and rested in so many places
The ceiling of the painted hall is twenty feet high and the hall fifty feet long. I must have stood looking up at the painted ceiling and top of walls with my mouth open and eyes popping as a very courteous guide brought a comfy chair to me and took us under his wing and showed us so many things we would have missed, he was so proud of it all. The painting was the life and death of Caesar by La Guerre and the objects looked as if they would come out and down to you and in one room (music) there were two figures, on at each end of ceiling, that looked as though an electric bulb was lighting them up but it is just the clever way they were painted.
The bed where George III, the son of that horrible George 1st of Hanover, whose first wife was the great…grandmother of the present Marques of Blandford. She was imprisoned for thirty two years. This, of course, scarcely connected with Chatsworth House. The chapel is a dream. All walls three quarters up to ceiling carved cedar and upwards from that and ceiling more beautiful paintings. The one over lovely marble altar, being that of “Doubting Thomas” on bended knee to Christ asking forgiveness. One narrow panel right hand side of altar is a door through which the minister or priest came through. One of the girls of the family was married three years ago in this chapel.
Hundreds of visitors must go each day to see this place as six buses and twenty cars, endless cyclists were there and it is open from 11 o’clock am until 4.15pm. Two deaths in the family in seven years (I’m out a little) made the death duties very heavy. These old and lovely places and abbeys really make England famous and yet the government is forcing the owners to give them up. They would sooner pay the civil servants. In fact some of these old and lovely properties have been taken over by the coal board and police training stations. One famous castle was wrecked by its owner because of heavy taxes and when once a roof is off, no taxes! There is a Countess in Scotland who looks terrible and scarcely enough to eat and everyone knows her. They say all she has left is her beautiful, cultured voice. I saw ruin of her castle, grounds lovely, she lives in a room somewhere else.
Pop has just arrived back from Glasgow and has
had a day with a certain Sandy Morton who has been completely blotto and Pop is
worn to a frazzle. It appears the old
chap first of all bleared at Pop and said, “Who are you?” and of course Pop
said, “Greenwood, Sandy.” “Well come and
have a drink.” Pop, “Not on your life at
this hour.” “Oh, well go up and sit
down,” so Pop wanders all over the place until his nibs, Sandy, returns more
blotto and after a while, off to lunch to local inn.
Pop is introduced to local miner, farmer,
butcher and barmaid, more whisky and sherry for Pop, barmaid brings them and
Pop refuses to drink and so Sandy makes the barmaid drink it. Then into bar and Sandy loudly recites Bobbie
Burns and then all and sundry sing and poor Pop literally bursting to get to
his other appointment and so Sandy sends back a table cloth to me, being
blotto, and Pop in league with proprietor manages to get in car and step on it
and away.
Sandy’s daughter is in West Australia and he
misses her and becomes maudlin, was nearly crying on Pop’s shoulder. He then tried to kiss proprietress then later
he rolled up his sleeves and apropos of nothing said whilst waving his arms
round dangerously ‘hit em and hit em hard’.
No one knew who he meant. This is
one of the manufacturers.
We went out to another manufacturer’s home last
night and had a very nice dinner and chat, in fact, the nicest people of
all. For dinner salmon steamed in milk
which all English and Scottish seem crazy about considering they were forced to
eat so much of it during war. We had
soup first, Scotch broth, very nice, then fish.
How I loathe fish, and then a flan which is a stiff Blanc mange with a
meringue on top and then extra-large meringue separately. Again, because of the twilight I was just
about wearing out our welcome until I looked out the window and saw it was dark
and then I realized how late it was, 11.30pm.
Thursday we left Troon and reached Edinburgh
driving through beautiful country and arriving about 2pm. Pop felt so disappointed as our hotel is one
of a terrace and was unknown to A.A. (My note: Automobile Association) but it
is very dear and every one of staff trying so hard to please. No bathroom, only down a very steep stairs
and 4 Alsatian dogs, am very scared of them, also no toilet for me. Very awkward so a trip to another hotel, or
tea room, and borrow theirs. Mother and
father and two pups and just as large as parents (Alsatians) are in kitchen
with staff at this funny hotel. Poor
fella(?) Alsatian was cross because too many people in kitchen!!!
We leave tomorrow, Saturday, stayed here two
nights. On our way here we had lunch at
a very lovely out of town Hotel “Chassell” in Newhouse. Newhouse is a small village of mills, but as
we enter hotel face abut fifty signed photos of film stars who have stayed
there. Margaret Lockwood, Gracie Fields
and husband, George Formby, and I had not time to read any more because here
also were genuine paintings. I remember
two artists, Leslie R.A. and Bough but these paintings were as lovely as any I
have seen. One painting of Ayrshire cows
I would have loved and some by the famous animal painter Landseer. I have always loved his work.
Today we did two tours of Edinburgh Castle and
the city, Edinburgh, new and old.
EDINBURGH CASTLE AND CITY TOUR.
Gray Friar’s and Bobbie and his dog’s monument,
St Giles Church, Last Public Hanging spot Holyrood Mansions or House where the
Queen and Queen Mother stay when in Edinburgh, King Arthur’s seat. This is all in Old Edinburgh.
Now in detail.
Castle immense but now they say of no historical interest. I can’t believe that as it was razed to the
ground in 309 or 903 (not much difference) by Robert the Bruce. It is built in the side of earth cliff and it
is the windiest spot in Edinburgh (someday it will collapse) and I can imagine
it slipping. Of course there are the
ancient looking battlements and guns and well and a lion’s den where it is
believed a tame lion (are they ever tame?) was kept. Also the huge Oak and steel and iron studded
doors to shut out the enemy, first one and 12 feet further on, another. A modern section is being used for Scottish
Army and female army also. Rather
disappointed in this. The Castle I mean.
We take a city tour. Very interesting mansions of nobility in bygone
days. Just about as large as Bill’s hut
and all so gloomy and all buildings, new and old, as discoloured almost
black. Sir Walter Scott’s monument a
wonderful piece of monumental art. Would
like to have visited art gallery but I was so tired and Pop felt it all
depressing. Until one gets used to these
old buildings it is a trifle depressing.
There are parks and lawns everywhere in English
towns and Scottish. King Arthur’s seat
is a rather high point of land and Gray Friars a building – courtyard and he
was a farmer. I have forgotten why he
was famous but he had a dog called Bobby who, when Gray died, this little
Scottish terrier sat on or near his grave for fourteen years and as his late
master used to go to a tea room nearby and have a few meals and take Bobbie and
so when the dog wanted a meal he would leave the grave and the owners of tea
shop would feed him and when the doggie died, some peeress or well-known woman,
Lady Burdett-Coutts, had a monument built on side of road of Bobby and it’s
said to be his image.
We passed The Mrs. Henry’s Antique Shop. I had just read about her trip to the sale of
King Farouk’s furniture, vases, pictures, etc. and never expected to come so
soon upon her very tiny shop in old dirty looking Edinburgh. Of course she may be Jewish, she does look
it. Royalty buys quite a lot of things
from her. Mrs. Henry looks to be about
fifty and very dark, perhaps Egyptian or Assyrian.
We leave Edinburgh nineteenth of June but not
before describing St. Giles’ Church, a building of beautiful architecture. We, nor any other country will, so I think,
ever have such buildings again. In front
of this Church or I may be wrong but it was Edinburgh’s city centre, the
mounting of the Town Crier. He
apparently was the human newspaper. Near
this is a heart built into road way built of road stones and is(?) level, but
with a surround of red stones. It’s said
to mark the place of the last public hanging.
Midlothian Heart.
Moss Hall, Audlem.
(My note: Moss Hall, Audlem. I have not known where to put the page on
which Greenie wrote about it. I have not
been able to work out the route around the UK they took from Plymouth, where
they picked up their car. It lies
somewhere south and between Chester and Knutsford in county of Cheshire, North
West England. The picture of the Hall in
the notebook in which Greenie wrote this diary is a bad Roneo copy and I have
added a colour one from the internet to do it justice. It was home to her grandfather and so I must
include it.)
Audlem Hall, called Moss Hall (Internet photo)
Beverley and Ron’s (maternal) great
grand-father’s home when young. James
Massey Howard, Nana’s father.
But all the lovely trees have been cut down and
burnt I suppose. When Nana saw it, the Parklands
were lovely.
We went through the above. Oak door only left of 1616 building. (My note: Greenie wrote 1016 but this could
be a writing error.) All the rest of
house 1500 odd ? (My note: I cannot make out the word).
CHESTER AND MANCHESTER.
How I would like to have lingered in the
markets. I must mention our trip to
Chester from Knutsford Saturday afternoon when all business places are open and
all families free to go shopping and window shopping. It is a huge and wonderful city. I saw a date on one church as being built in
AD 907. The cathedral, I fell down 5
steps, was very lovely and Pop and Peter were looking at price of shirts and
(?). The shops are built up on path
about seven steps from footpath to another footpath and so sheltering both top
and bottom shops from weather as top shops had a large veranda over them. It looked so odd whilst standing across the
street to watch the people going to and fro on two levels of shops but again,
what a crowd and so many cars, prams, toddlers, dogs and cyclists. All something to watch out for.
We went to Manchester once only. What a city.
I could not face the crowd so went into Kendels large store in Kings
Street and up on to fifth floor terrace which surrounds shop and had a splendid
view of the vast place it is and so busy, sooty and smoky. I also visited library there. It is a circular building and it was pointed
out to me as the library and so made note of landmarks and arrived at library
but found myself at the back and in amongst milk bottles and panel vans and so
had to make a complete circle to front entrance. I found the library beautiful and found
almost every nationality sitting at tables reading or studying even being old
and very shabby men to very exotic looking lasses.
Manchester mills nearly all owned by Jewish
men. In fact they say that it is mostly
Jews who work there. Perhaps that is why
we were not asked out to their homes or taken out but then we were staying
seventeen miles away. As Pop drove in
each day he passed a car parked just inside a certain gate and there sat a man
at the wheel. It appears he always sits
there from one peak hour to the last peak hour.
No one seems to know why but believe he has this obsession (can’t think
how to spell it) and it is how he spends his days. I wonder what he thinks about or if he only
sees and doesn’t think at all or if he only thinks and doesn’t see.
We drive through some very bleak and hilly
country and the wind is blowing rather fiercely and rarely a house to be
seen. I feel sure it worried Pop as he
loves beautiful scenery and trees. Later
we enter lovely country and it is still here with us in Catterick and we have
found a very comfortable hotel, 47/- per person per day without meals. It is almost a suite, separate half toilet,
separate bathroom and large bedroom looking out on to trout stream which runs
under an old bridge. Part of bridge
built in Elizabeth Ist’s reign but such a lovely scene. The bridge has four or five arches and is
stone and the gurgle of the Swale River stream makes up for the London traffic
which is incessant.
Two men are just outside our window now fishing
for trout. This bedroom has a suite of
furniture made of Oak by Thompson of York whose trademark was Mouse, so of
course, on some spot of his furniture one can find a tiny Oak mouse as creeping
over or crouching. On top of bed heads
is one motto – ‘Drowsiness shall clothe a man in rags’ – and bed – ‘Better to
go to bed supper less than to rise in debt’.
Over the door of bath – ‘Reckless youth makes rueful age’ – and over
toilet door – ‘Hot love is soon cold’.
Such queer furniture, not lovely at all.
Very nice carpet, two large leather easy chairs,
telephone. Breakfast 5/- (5 shillings),
early morning tea 1/- each, Lunch 7/6, afternoon tea 2/6, dinner 9/6. I think we will leave Tuesday but at least I
have had a good sit down bath and a toilet to sit on, first since leaving
ship. All very lovely here and
comfortable and it will do us both good as Pop has had a very busy time since
leaving ship and he worries so much now and he is more nervy I think with all
this driving and finding the route, although we have not made any big mistake
yet his holiday will begin again on SS Orsova (which it didn’t. We were starved, cooking awful and dirty
forks.)
The outside of this hotel in front is really
connected on to bridge. I went outside
to make sure. The very lovely lounge, as
large as Mr. Prior’s ballroom, is partly under bridge. All London traffic just misses the corner of
hotel by four feet. The road frontage of
this place is awful, so much so that we turned up our noses at it. It looks just as terrible as any place we
have seen but, once over the usual old uneven large stone floor hall, it is
almost sumptuous, lovely lounge rooms, smoking rooms, reading room and cocktail
bar. Just before entering dining room
which is twice as large as 44’s ballroom (My note: 44 Bradleys Head Road,
Mosman, Sydney – my grandfather Ken Prior’s house where my father grew up) and
has a bare polished floor with tables all round walls and of course it’s a
dinner dancing place, evidently well known.
We could have had a cheaper room right on road but the continual traffic
would have been too nerve-wracking.
Motor bikes, our pet aversion, and enormous twelve wheel wagons. So very unlike Pop, he asked for breakfast in
bed. We have a standard lamp in our room
which looks like a totem pole and is seven feet high. Believe me I just gape at things I see in Scotland
and England. No shower in bathrooms
anywhere and our room in Edinburgh we could not open the window. I was afraid to open the one in Troon in case
it fell to pieces. Stairs, oh my! A flight of stairs here until you reach top
one and it is about three inches, consequently one lifts one’s foot so high
only to come down plonk Same with lower
step but others quite a good grade.
Whilst in Edinburgh Pop so cranky that I took
him to see Cary Grant picture, “The War Bride” but it was titled, “You Can’t
Sleep Here”. He did have a good laugh
and then we had tea and then, because he hated our hotel so much and because of
the lovely twilight, we went on this city tour as mentioned. Pop felt so sorry for the driver that he gave
him a tip, as Pop remarked, he had such a good face and a little pathetic and
was about our own age and his voice was so tired describing all the places of
note so many times during the day but he certainly was a nice chappie and one
day less in this hotel. I like the
Scotch folk.
At last my hair is going grey. I am sixty two and so it should although, on
the ship and in Scotland, several people remarked on the auburn tints in my
hair and liked the way I do it in two knobs.
Just as well. But am I ageing, in
fact, withering. I trust I do not look
pathetic with my face on out of box.
Bev and Bill if only you could see the beautiful
copper beech trees here. They are like a
lovely prunus bush only immense. All the
other trees are also enormous and such a perfect green and so soft but, Ron,
you have seen them, haven’t you?
Most of these old castles or manors or halls
have their pig sties and stables and barns up against the house itself. The flies and smell must have been awful and
where these places are occupied, like Nana’s father’s place is, it more than
smelt. I am beginning to think that the
English and Scottish people have no sense of smell. Of course, so few open their windows
enough. Even in Knutsford, we could
only, by using all our strength, open our window five inches.
In the hotel at Catterick, our bedroom is over
dining come ballroom and the piano and drum is pretty awful but I have my
medicine thank goodness. At Knutsford we
were over the bar and it did not worry us so much and lower ceilings there and
dogs yapping amongst the drinkers.
3.30pm Pop sound asleep again. He
can always sleep, which is good.
The tree days break at comfy hotel necessary and
wise. I must mention The Bells of
Peover, pronounced “pelver”. The Bells
of Peover is really an inn inside a church yard. The church is behind the inn and the inn was,
so it said, a house for the monks and later a home brewing place for the monks
and now an inn. We had morning tea
here. These inns are really awful to
look at, but once inside, they are very small but clean and cosy and are
crammed with as much brass in all shapes and sizes and variety from warming
pans, kettles, candle sticks, dog collars, horse harness and all highly
polished. These are in every living room
and stairs and landing, not bedrooms, but the labour must cost the staff many
hours and I wonder they do not object.
There are huge fire fenders, coal buckets, the size of which I have
never seen and I do believe that the maids of this country just love polishing.
Now to the very old church. I should have written these remarks before
but time flew, and now I cannot remember the age of it but I think 500 odd years
and inside it the centre pews have a strip of worn carpet on large stone and
very much worn floor. The seats have
cushions, also very threadbare, but as these pews are the only ones so covered,
I think they are meant for the elite.
The papers and books inside glass cases were written in Old English and
so I and Pop could not very well read it as the ink was almost faded out and
our eyesight is not good enough to read it.
(I am quite sure that I cannot now spell correctly and get so tired
sightseeing.)
In the chapel is a huge box made of the stout
old Oak of England and it has wide bands of iron round and over all of it and
studded with strong iron studs and three immense padlocks and one key was given
to the Priest and one to verger and the last to another officer of the church
and so box (which is said to have held the vestments) could not be opened until
all three of the clerics were present.
Another use of this box (lid only) was used to prove the physical
strength of a prospective bride so if she could lift this lid with one hand
only, she proved her health and brawn and fit to become a farmer’s wife. I can’t help wondering how many wives of that
time injured their insides. Only the
Sandow’s of today could lift it with one arm or hand. (My note: “Sandow's System of Physical Training was Eugen Sandow's best and
most expansive book, and it helped to establish him as the most famous and
commercially successful circus strongman in the world.” Taken from Google. Sandow’s book was printed in 1894, as the
Dedication in his book is dated 1894.)
To this day the choir all wear pillar box red
surplice, I suppose you would call them, but they look to be made of the old
turkey red material, as they do not seem to be faded at all but these churches
and every building are extraordinary as one comes suddenly to a wee step and,
of course, one can have a nasty fall on to these solid stone floors. In this hotel at Catterick Bridge we are very
wary as again odd steps everywhere. I
don’t know how the places kept their maids but they all seem happy and
carefree. Two huge dogs here and one a
black or brindle bull dog mixture, gives everyone such a belligerent look if
they happen to stand in front of fire place in entrance to dining room. It is apparently his spot and when he sprawls
out he takes up all of the space.
To return to above church, like most of these
very old churches one quite suddenly finds oneself walking on a grave in the
aisle of church. In the Chester
cathedral they were everywhere and that was a very large cathedral and so
lovely. I find that I cannot possibly
take in mind of all there is to see in each place, as there is really a
terrific lot of things of interest to look at and try to remember. One day in each place with a note book and
using short hand should do it.
I am writing this near a window and the enormous
buses and wagons are just sheering off the window, so close is the busy road (which
is of course the main road to London) that the traffic doesn’t cease and
continuous all day Sunday, as many business wagons as private cars, and I once
thought this England rather stiff in their religious outlook.
One curious item about these English buildings,
hotels and homes, are the size of the doors.
So often Pop has to stoop or crack his poor head, but again we are so
wary of movements. No doors in this
hotel have locks but heavy levers which clank whenever we try to shut any door
and we have bathroom, bedroom, toilet and hall doors and they are rather
difficult to close and to try and close them quietly and not use the heavy
handle we pinch our fingers.
As I write I am facing a number of copies of
famous steel engravings. Henry Eighth
and different Earls. Nana had a number
of original steel engravings but did not like them so left them behind in one
of the many houses we lived in. They
were mostly Shakespearian. Everywhere we
look in these old places something is out of plumb. Pop was rather worried about eyesight
yesterday. Whilst in bed, he said to me,
come over here and stand beside me and tell me if you can see what I can see
and sure enough the whole fireplace had a list on just as all the beams of
ceiling have a definite curve or down at one end.
I feel sure that quite a number of women would
object to suddenly come upon a mouse, as climbing up the post or meet up with
one on the leg of dressing table or crawling up the mantel piece but they look
so natural. A funny trade name (Mouse).
I am glad that food does not worry me provided I
had sufficient nourishment as the food here is really very badly cooked – I ate
my soup with my eyes closed and my salad was all ham and tongue, plate covered
with it. I fancy the chef wanted to get
rid of it and so salty and unwashed lettuce and tomato etc. - was I ill after
it! - and awful dressing, too much vinegar.
A nice waitress (they are all nice and wear black frocks, white dainty
aprons and bunch of black ribbon on their hair) said to me with such a look of
concern, “But Madam has not eaten her lunch” but I had a nice creamed rice
pudding to satisfy.
On one menu we saw escargots, I said what are
they? She tried not to look sick
herself, said ‘sneels’ (snails). Another
Italian dish we tried, and wished we hadn’t, “ravioli”. They looked like small cheese biscuits cooked
in tomato sauce filled with a little chopped meat and stuck together and
heated. We felt later as though we must
have swallowed some cement. As I mostly
write this in bed even the writing is bad as I cannot read it myself. Whilst at lunch today we watched a large sow
come down into trout stream (the River Swale) and sit in the water for a
while. Pop says pigs love the water as
they get terribly hot. I wonder which
part feels the hottest. There is a large
picture on landing of staircase called the “First proof”. It is, of course, black and white and appears
to be warning people of the bad and sorry effects of “Bacchus”. I am sure the drawing would interest Bill as
it looks, to even my inexperienced eyes, a masterpiece and there is so much to
it.
We went to one of Britain’s largest training
camps this morning. It is immense and so
the village is built round it so to speak.
Very nice good shops and hotels, picture show in fact we were amazed to
see such an up to date village with gardens and tennis courts and all this
comes upon one suddenly. Very good roads
and a suburb of large homes. A town
built for the camp. It is called
Catterick Camp. Tomorrow morning, 23/6/1954,
will make two or three stops overnight en route to London. I would like to have visited York which is
not far from here but Pop must have break from driving. We have already done 1,800 odd up to date
since receiving Zephyr car. I bought a
sunbonnet here for Kim and wool for a little cardigan.
I must revert to Haddon Hall again. We see the stables etc. near entrance to
Hall. We go through short drive and
reach very old Oak strong door but we have to enter by opening in door and have
to bend almost double to get through.
The stone before and after entering is worn to a hollow and into court
yard and Castle built round it. A dear
little chapel with a sculpted likeness of a brother of the Lady Diana that was,
I forget who she married but I remember that at the time of her marriage she
was London’s most beautiful woman, but back to chapel. This lad died when he was about 9 years his
features are perfect, hands and feet really beautiful. His mother is said to be a good sculptress
and did this monument, adding miniatures of her other 4 children round sides
and ends of foundation of monument. This
monument I think one of the most exquisite pieces of work in this chapel.
There is a very narrow staircase about 18 inches
wide and when bell had to ring a local yokel who could not understand the Latin
then used by priest was told to watch when priest took up wine or put down
(I’ve forgotten) to then rush up this staircase and ring bell, what a scram, as
stairs twisted into spiral. At altar
there are five panels over it, each one displaying some biblical event, the
last one being the Virgin Mary in her garden.
All these hand carved out of alabaster, but now are very much
discoloured but intact.
As Pop and I were just about exhausted, the lady
guide, left other sightseers and rushed us through as we had a long trip back
and it was getting late. We only saw
banqueting hall and present dining room.
All stone floors and the banqueting hall was not very large and had the
floor raised under long table and this is where the nobles dined and in lower
level, the lesser folk dined. We had to
go up five semicircle steps of solid Oak and they were in quite good condition,
but the ballroom was about (as most other ballrooms of a great age were)
eighteen feet across by about sixty feet long.
I just wondered where the wallflowers sat to be out of the way. The panelling and windows were lovely. It is in this Hall I saw the one kitchen but
I was pleased to see the original one. Firstly
two huge chopping blocks, the size used in our butcher shops of today. One of these had been worn into a
hollow. There was a baker’s oven in this
and the working benches were also hollowed out with use. The fireplace was a large one with a spit for
roasting a whole beast. The stone floor
near it still shows a few signs of grease and it must have been messy and
slippery and smoky. In viewing our
everyday life now were conditions seem unbelievable and shocking.
The Duke of Rutland sometimes comes and stays in
one wing of house. Perhaps they have to,
most of these places have been formed into syndicate by the owners. This must have been a very lovely place with
its turrets and battlements and it still has a lovely garden, well looked
after, and its little Wye stream full of trout.
Nearby is the Peacock Inn. Some
say the peacock is still there or rather a peacock in this Inn. A maid named Dorothy Vernon with whom one of
the early Duke’s sons eloped. She
climbed out of the windows and later they had a home in one of the Hall’s
wings. Her son became a Duke when
father-in-law Duke died. (My note: in fact Dorothy Vernon was the daughter of a
prosperous landowner and heiress to Haddon Hall.)
I must revert back to our trip with Mr. C.
Robertson and his wife. We passed the
monument erected in memory of the Langside battle where Mary Queen of Scots sat
on her horse and watched the battle. I’m
glad her lover Rizzio was killed! (My note: but not in the battle.) I must mention the crucifixion. After just leaving Catterick Bridge Hotel we
came to a full size cross with a Christ nailed to it, also life size and
beautifully sculpted. This had a small
roof or hood over it but, of course, it was very discoloured with weather and
behind it simply a quarry. This crucifix
looked so deserted on roadside.
We arrive at the Hotel.
An English garden hotel. It was very nice and such refined and
well-read people owning it. Again we had
a suite. I and Pop had a little more
comfort to help us along. Food not
bad. Whilst there we drove to Peterborough
and looked at huge town and its old buildings and cathedral, which is truly
lovely. One memorial of one “Thomas
Hunter of Kurri Kurri of N.S.W.” and it was rather wonderful so see this in a
town off beaten track. He died of wounds
in Peterborough Hospital. (My note:
Thomas Hunter was born in England and moved to Australia at the age of 30. He enlisted in the Australian Army. He was
injured in Dardanelles in 1915 and after recovering went back to serve. He was promoted and served in France where he
was again wounded. He was invalided to
England and died in Peterborough Hospital in 1916 from his injuries. His headstone was raised by public
subscription. Pop lost his arm due to
injuries sustained in France in 1917 so this memorial would have meant a good
deal to him and Greenie.)
We drive to have a look at Duke of Gloucester’s
home. Not artistic but gloomy and large
with a nice farm and surrounded by beautiful country and he and Duchess very
well liked in district. We also visited
a famous school town called Bundle (My note: I believe this is Blundell) the
quaintest of all towns. (Dutch built it
we heard also a village called Rothschild.)
We leave Garden Hotel at Norman Cross and make for London. Oh my, I had to be piloted into Bloomsbury
Street, Hotel Ivanhoe. Traffic
awful. Very large and clean and comfy
and up to date, but again food worse than ever.
We have moved thank goodness as whilst lying in bed I had to gaze at the
pathetic crooked stairway across the street and I could see the next block
through battered windows near the stairs.
All that was left of a bad bombing but it was beginning to depress
me. These English, my age and older, how
wonderful they must have been and, I hear, so cheerful and we complain if the
milk, butter or bread is not quite up to standard.
One must see these bombed out buildings to
understand. The East End was burning for
a week. The University went and even
here at Earl’s court (one large house facing me whilst I scribble) was razed to
the ground as we are one of a terrace.
Four of the terrace lost their roof and this place “Strathcona Court”
(which, by the way, is the nicest place we’ve stayed at and beautifully home
cooked food, clean, comfy and moderate and generous – 198 Cromwell Road, Earl’s
Court, we recommend) had its ceilings blown down and windows blown out. These London houses and homes have four
floors, or even six, all have basements and attics but nice lofty
ceilings. The cupboard doors are over
eight feet high and 2 inches thick.
Strange since Pop has had to stoop to go through doors just out of
England.
Our bedroom here is a bed sitting room, hot and
cold water, gas ring as no lunches given.
Opposite front door so no stairs, nice outlook and quiet (back room very
large) facing garden and lawn. I visited
the famous Harrods, had lunch there.
Very large plate covered with lettuce.
Chinaman’s lettuce I suppose and finally, I didn’t have any, one sweet
and cup of tea with 6d tip, 9/6. I could
have bought a 6d lettuce. “Scotch House”
delightful with all its various tartans.
I do love tartan but the Sutherland tartan I think rather the
ugliest. (My note: Greenie was Lilian
Sutherland prior to her marriage.)
Tartan slippers, all sizes, kilts, pullovers, skirts, scarves, gloves,
rugs, bags, all fascinating to me.
Ida and I (My note: Ida was Greenie’s older and
late sister who died in the Spanish influenza epidemic of 1919) as children
were dressed in the Scottish dress, buckled shoes, white sox, tartan cape and
black velvet coatee (?), tartan skirt and white blouse. We looked and felt very smart and attractive,
our tam-o-shanters at correct angle.
I visited Harvey Nicols, 52 guineas to make me
what I want in a coat and skirt. I shall
leave the West End shops and visit the East End. Have seen the outside of Drury Lane Theatre
which is opposite Covent Garden Theatre.
Both look most unattractive and nearby Bow Street Police Station, which
after reading so much about looks insignificant. My error, we came back entrance. All these up against the smelly Covent Garden
Markets.
Australia House not at all impressive but of
course most important, when one realizes the numerous nationalities which must
pass through its doors. Buckingham
Palace dignified but not as impressive as I imagined nor is Clarence House or
Marlborough House. I am beginning to
think we Australians are a trifle flamboyant or too ambitious. Taxied home through a flag festooned wide
street on Wednesday. Street lined with
mounted police and crowds on footpaths.
About four taxis in this street and I alone in one and I felt a little
self-conscious as these people were all waiting for the King and Queen of
Sweden and they must have been due to arrive.
I really felt like sitting on the floor of the taxi and hiding. The street was so empty of cars, about the
only street that was.
Two small blankets on my bed and so I asked for
eiderdown and they sent one into me as, what looks like to me, a dry-cleaned
rug for the floor. I think it must be a
coat off a moose as it is so hairy and large.
I don’t know what to do with all of it but it is warm. I have never seen such a place as this
England for antiques. I am beginning to
feel like one myself but of course valueless.
We go to lovely Sussex last Sunday.
One and half hours in air-conditioned train and thought I’d choke.
Arrived there and took taxi for four miles and
spent whole day with Pop’s cousin Bobbie who is stone deaf but so full of fun
and looked so happy to see Pop after thirty-six years. Bobbie cannot hear himself gasping for
breath. He cannot last much longer but
has had a really easy life. Bobbie has
no sense of responsibility and has always had someone to lean on. No pride.
I shall never object to a certain dog, or bitch,
called “Soda” again. (My note: Soda was our
family’s dog when I was young, a Scotch terrier.) These people treat their dogs as humans. The dogs are filthy and lick their owner’s
face and hands for minutes on end or the owner nurses a huge animal on his knee
or plays with its mouth or very short tail and then the owner goes out and gets
our meal! Thus at Bobbie’s I felt
ill. Joey, who refers to herself as
Bobbie’s wife, does this but she is wonderful to Bobbie, in fact, wonderful in
many ways.
(I’m getting tired of this diary). I guess you are too.
I must again go back to Knutsford – It was from
there we drove to Congleton I think! To what is called, Morton Old Hall (not
Old Morton Hall) very similar to James Massey Howard’s place. Once again the white clay with black Oak
beams to contain fifty seven rooms.
First of all we come to a real moat across drawbridge and through double
archway into large courtyards which house surrounds. On right hand side a very tiny chapel where
service is still held occasionally. Then
we climb numerous wooden spiral crazy stairways into numerous rooms. Ballroom again long and narrow and small
dressing rooms and up a few more stairs and down a few more to other rooms,
possibly bedrooms, and several antechambers and floor sloping dangerously I
think. Old Oak beams beginning to show
rot. This place also smelt. Never open of course, crazily built as one
has to return to same rooms to get out of others if you know what I mean. Why more people were not burnt to death in
these traps is more than I can understand.
This building is three storeys and just to use
one’s imagination a little, what did the poor little maids of about twelve
years old or less have to put up with if any of the family ill, especially
sanitary arrangements. As we entered the
cobbled courtyard at first, we saw at once a roof which was all levels. The roof of that great age, 1500 years old,
is now sinking and it looked so crazy.
On left, after entry into courtyard, was a modern toilet which must have
been an old kitchen, as the first thing one sees on entering, is an old
fireplace with and old stove in it, too much trouble to remove. Or perhaps the building may fall down if they
did remove it. I just recoiled, a
kitchen stove and three toilets!! The
courtyard. Just imagine a coach or two
and a few horses clattering into cobbled courtyard at midnight. It must have been terrifying or nerve-wracking
or in some romantic cases, exciting or enemy soldiers even. These cobbles in roads and courtyards are
very wonderful and they have remained so level.
I have forgotten to
mention carpet on floor of Buchanan Arms where proprietor wore kilts. It was a plaid carpet but of no clan
whatsoever as the Scots naturally would not allow any clan plaid to be trodden
on!!
I have been given two
supper cloths. They are very heavy and
(in gratitude more luggage) at Glasgow.
LONDON.
Now we come back to
London that is to write about it. I think it is a wonderful place and so interesting (if one could only
walk everywhere). In buses or cars we
miss so much. Hyde Park seems to be the
centre of London and is a lovely park unlike our quiet parks. The traffic, if necessary, passes through
it. Pop has just told me of a bomb
(fifty pound I hear) which was discovered and so the bomb was removed and
brought back to the office and put on someone’s desk and informing the chap at
desk that was one of the First World War ‘eggs’ and would eventually go
off. The man at the desk went for his
life and didn’t wait for any explanations.
This happened after last war. Pop
was telling him that as he himself lay in Woolwich Hospital here in 1916 he saw
the first Zeppelin brought down and of course great excitement in ward of
hospital.
I shall never forget
the dogs that I see here as one Englishwoman said to me, “I love dogs but they
are becoming an obsession with people.
French poodles with puff and tufts here and nothing somewhere else,
other large Airedales trimmed the same style and they look sillier than the
poodles. Lots of Dachshunds (My note:
Greenie spelled them Deutch hounds) with their long tummies almost brushing the
ground and I saw in tearoom at Harrods a woman nursing a (rat dog) other words
toy terrier. It has a tartan coat, oh,
and bells around its neck. It looked so
sad. Thank goodness no dog here. Sounds rather nasty but the dog in England
comes first and although there are notices as to this effect, any dog found fouling
the footpaths, the owner of such animal will be fined. Believe me no one would dare fine a dog owner
even so and footpaths disgusting.
Ruby Robinson arriving
on Strathaven 1th July and has asked me to book a room for her near me. Ye gods I certainly have been in some
peculiar houses. I wandered into a very
large place today, well-kept and well carpeted and could not find anyone, even
rang lift and it came down empty.
Finally heard loud chattering and located voices (foreign) “No speak
English” so departed without seeing anyone. Next I went into another place. Very stout Jewess and quite unclear. She wanted to go to Sydney family in Double
Bay. All luggage packed. After much of this, she discovered she had no
room but ran out into street after me and said, “Madam I run very respectable house”. I wondered what I looked
like?
I would like to visit
Tate Gallery this week. Next week too
late. Some wealthy Brazilian exhibiting
his half million pounds worth of paintings.
I hear they are superb. Some are
asking us out tomorrow (Thursday) had appointments Monday and Tuesday, rested
Wednesday and Friday may fit it in.
(Inspection of Tate Gallery I mean.)
People are all very friendly but not shop assistants, very uppish in
large shops.
Went to see Danny Kaye
– Knock on Wood - very humorous and clever as was the first picture. All people in theatre who wish to smoke are
permitted to do so, consequently, bad photography and dense smoke affect eyes
very much.
We put an
advertisement in “Times” for anyone wishing a trip over continent could have
seat in car if they could handle route, language and money. My goodness, the phone in our room rang until
10.30pm. Italians, cockneys and others
but they wanted a return trip, but we catch ship at Naples. Pop is always saying, “I wish I were home at
Church Point”. He cannot adapt
himself. I am going to have a meal at
Soho if I can. We were dry for a cuppa
and so drifted into an A.B.C. help yourself place. Poor Pop, people of all races, workmen and
the lass at the counter, “Righto luvvie” but it was a nice cup of tea.
Terrific thunderstorm
here yesterday and a girl killed at Essex.
That is the third severe thunderstorm since we arrived in England. It really rains every day. But strange to say we all carry umbrellas and
rarely put them up. It is such soft fine
rain at present.
We have a sandbox outside this house which Pop says is used when streets have snow on them or ice to prevent slipping. We have just heard that it is much easier to drive on continent than in England but we do not believe anyone now, as there are so many different opinions and apparently different kinds of nerves. The bank Manager, Mr. Ash (Bank of Sydney) told us today that it is much easier to drive on continent than England. I thought Pop would burst a blood vessel today, Saturday and midday, and of course traffic leaving centre of London, other buses etc. coming into it and some go to race I suppose, but we were near St. James Park and I was fascinated by the traffic. Double decker buses two and three abreast and taxis and every kind of wagon and cars and we had to cross it. I was not the least bit worried only Pop wanted to cross between pedestrian crossing not on them and which is there for safety of people and when once anyone steps onto this all traffic must pull up and so we did this and felt like two little ants weaving among all this, but Pop “I don’t know why I ever came to this place it’s crazy, the traffic is impossible etc.” I really had to decide to bring him back to guest house of course it was raining most of time.
We saw Princess
Margaret and the Queen Mother. I
suspected someone of importance would be leaving Clarence House soon as a
chappie with a flashlight camera was waiting behind a pillar as we walked
around St. James Palace to Clarence House and then I saw that Buckingham Palace
gates were opening. Princess Margaret is
the tiniest lass and with such small and dainty hand. I had a good view of her but could not get a
chance to see the Queen Mother as the interior of car was rather dark and so
was the position where we were standing, just near the entrance gates and under
a lot of huge trees. Could have seen her
had we had more time.
I have been to and
through the Tower of London and we had a particularly humorous guide who, for
the benefit of sightseers, made the history of Tower as gory as possible. Thus, “Well it’s like this see, when they had
their heads chopped off you’ll see the axe and chopping block over there, they just
dumped all the bodies in heap and at a later date someone came along and tried
to sort the right bones and(?) some would fit and some wouldn’t fit. Those as would were put separately into a
grave and the mixed bones were just dropped into some other grave” etc. We go into archway under bloody Tower and,
“All(?) folks if you look above her ‘eads you’ll see a row of holes (as large
as a dinner plate) and when the enemy comin’ the people of the Tower shut both
gates as soon as the enemy got inside both, or rather between, these two gates
in archway and then poured boiling hot oil down through theses ‘oles.”
This guide was worth
the trip! I also saw the ravens of which
I had read and a little child wandered so near them and got such a bite from
one of them and it is said that only one keeper can go near them, they are as
black as coal and very much heavier than our crows and their cry is so horribly
sinister. I also saw crown jewels and
Edward’s crown and it is, indeed, large and heavy. These jewels, staffs and crowns are a
wonderful sight! But all wrong whilst people have no homes and no food, still
it is all for the people as they love it all.
It is their England – read of this in my book. Saw St. Paul’s, really lovely, also in my
book. Too much to relate. Part of it bombed but no so much damage done
but where St. Paul’s is, it is called the City of London and the bombed
churches and homes and other buildings is too awful. I also saw part of an old Roman wall. In guildhall recent findings of Roman shoes, vases
and cups 1941. Guildhall Exchange, Bank
of England Mary i.e. Bow Bell Church.
Wednesday we go to
Eton College and Windsor Castle and Thursday to Sandersons, Tuesday to
Hettie’s, my cousin whom I have never seen but have written to her for fifty
years. I wonder who will receive the greater
shock. She is a few years older than I.
I now have met
her. She was, I feel sure, horrified at
my poor intellect and I was horrified at her narrow mindedness and Victorian
attitude and her appearance and her husband is such a dear and was in No. 10
Downing Street. What Arthur did there
for 45 years I do not know as he is such a gentle refined soul and with such a
twinkle in his eye and was so pleased to see us. I know now he was foreign correspondent. (Two weeks later) Hettie hurt because I had not rung her on
telephone, because as she says, will only be writing to each other henceforth
so I promised to ring her this morning.
“By the King’s
Permission,” Windsor Castle, a story told by a guide who has been employed at
Windsor Castle for 50 years –
The late Queen Mary
would sometimes stroll about the rooms of Windsor Castle and, wishing to change
the furniture and statues or pictures to different positions in room, and when
discussing this head decorator, would add (knowing she would always get her own
way), “We will move this chest or picture etc. to the other side of room with
the King’s permission.” The men always
knew it would be done, so in one instance a nude woman and large painting was
in a particular room in a very conspicuous position and so Queen Mary wished it
moved. The late King George V would not
have it moved and so the Queen tried for months to persuade him to move it and
it’s said that it is the only time he was to have said ‘no’ and mean it and get
it. However six months later the
decorator was again in this room and asked two young and new assistants to
carry this picture along to the King and ask George V if he thought the picture
wanted cleaning and before the poor kids could say anything the King saw this
picture and roared, “Take that picture and put it back where it was”, and the
poor kids knew nothing of the incident of Queen Mary’s request and so, of
course, thought ‘this is the end of our job here’ and whilst returning along
passage met up with the chappie who told them to go to the King with it and he
roared, “Didn’t I tell you to take this along to King,” so for a time they were
twixt the devil and the deep blue sea.
But it is evidently true that the late Queen Mary was a very determined
and, I have since found out, an extravagant woman. They died, so they say, worth £4,000,000 and I have seen
her art treasures and she was always hunting in shops for them. They are magnificent and worth a
fortune. Where did she get the money? As Princess May, she was poor.
Windsor Castle, Eton
College, Hampton Court buildings of 9 ½ acres, Kew Gardens, Drury Lane Theatre £1-0-0 to see play.
Valerie Hobson in The
King and I (Anna and the King of Siam), magnificent costumes but that is about
all other than good ballet. Ballet has
always made me feel exhausted to watch.
Went to National Art
Gallery, The Bells of Pelover, Chester Cathedral – pronounced Pel-ver.)
The pigeons in
Trafalgar Square. Pigeons by the
hundreds and so fat and tame. Trafalgar Square
is so very crowded at lunch time. Leica
men all round one so I and Pop and R.R. (My note: Ruby Robinson I think) had a
photo taken whilst feeding pigeons at our feet.
Saw Wallace Collection. This is
really a lovely collection of bronze Service Chine, paintings and furniture. I also saw Portrait Gallery and National
Gallery. Covent Garden’s Theatre and
Drury Lane Theatre are in such sordid surroundings and almost next to Covent
Garden Market and just near Bow Street Police Station.
Pop and Greenie, Trafalgar Square, UK, 1/8/1954
Australia House is
very nice but people find assistants far from helpful and have and aloof or
uninterested manner. St. Pauls Cathedral
very lovely and dignified and more restful than Westminster Abbey. The latter looking very much like a
museum. The former has a lovely dome
with a whispering gallery. People
walking round this gallery are so high that they look like midgets and I
believe if one stands on one side of dome and whispers the people across the
other side can hear every word spoken most clearly. I have dined at large and small shops in
London. Some small shops better than
Harrods. Dogs are allowed in these places and sit on owner’s knee whilst owner
has lunch.
Forgot to mention
that, unlike Westminster Abbey, St. Paul’s will not have graves in floor of
Cathedral so a verger informed me? I
once read the story of Major John André, little did I think I
should see his grave. He was a good man
but enticed by lovely ambitious American girl to turn traitor to America and
sell secrets to England and then for cash she sold him to America. But now the Americans always put flowers on
his grave on America day. He was a good
man before this.
10th August
1954
We leave London for
Newhaven for Channel crossing but stay the night at Seaport two miles further
on at an hotel called Splash Point (name most appropriate) perched up on a bare
hill overlooking channel. This same
channel looked frightfully rough to me.
I find that the two previous crossings were the roughest for years.
Comfortable clean
hotel (we were the only guests) but I feel as if the whole building would be
blown away any second and the wind and rain thrashing against the window and my
thoughts on the Channel. After breakfast
we drove on to the boat for Dieppe. We
cross Channel and latter not too bad, the trip was not too rough, a few cups
and saucers broken and the trip four hours.
DIEPPE TO PARIS.
I put myself to sleep
in fur coat, slept in comfy chair until we arrive at Dieppe. We arrive at Dieppe. What a dreadful place is Dieppe and we had
such a long time to wait for our car to be unloaded. The two previous channel crossings were the
worst for some months. We were
lucky. Depressing and ugly and when one
remembers the facts of the skirmish there and 2,000 Englishmen mown down as
they were, one could see why. The cliff
faces the beach (as much beach as one see anywhere over there) and though only
a bunch of Hitler’s he had a defense there up on the top of cliff and I read
that General Montgomery did not advise this attack but Mountbatten of English
went over his head and the massacre was pitiful.
After standing in a
small, unshaded, hot wharf for two hours our Zephyr was unloaded and we start
for Paris and after leaving wharf inquired of some workmen which road to
Paris. They could not understand us and
we mentioned France and their faces opened up and rushed us with Paree, Paree,
we received correct directions.
PARIS.
Drove through rather
flat and quite uninteresting country but no further trouble re route. Noticed this route into Paris very decadent
looking. We meet our driver near Paris
at Road-Pont-de-la-Defense and are taken to hotel which is clean and comfy with
bath and toilet and that evening to Montmartre which I visited three times much
to Pop’s disgust. Young and interesting
at night with its singing and musicians but in broad daylight awful. It was a nice calm evening and we have our
meal at open café very nearby on tables on footpath and watched several diners
lapping up their snails, musicians strolling round us. We then walk to Sacred Heart Church and sat
on its very steep steps from there had a grand view of Paris and watched the
very colourful lights of Paris down below us.
We stayed there until 11pm.
Artists everywhere about streets painting some scene or other. We roamed around and looked at their work.
We drive (next day)
through and round city sightseeing. Fine
view from Avenue du General de Gaulle.
Pass over River Seine through Porte-Maillot past Arc-de-Triomphe and
along Avenue des Champs-Elysees and Place-de-la-Concorde, Paris. (Square or
junction).
The next day we drive
through glorious woods to Chateau Chantilly and were unable to see inside as it
was not open to sightseers that day, but saw the hundreds of carp in the moat
and they were so fat devouring loaves of bread thrown to them. The bread disappeared in a few seconds. These carp are sold to Hospitals and other places
to help with taxes on Chateau.
We visited the scene
of Waterloo and the painting and statue of dead horses and statues were very
realistic. We came through beautiful
wood and saw Eiffel Tower. Also went
through Palace at Versailles (Ver-sy-ee).
The guide of Palace spoke in French!!
Very interesting. We did not like
Paris.
We drive out to Cheval
Mort (dead horse) to posh restaurant and it was a lovely place and asked for
steak without rouge as we had not the correct accent. Our steaks were very much rouge and then I
rushed pancakes. Ugh! Something arrived
the size of a dinner plate and puffed up with mysteries. I would not touch it. Our fault we should when traveling speak
French. It is fairly universal.
Disappointed in Notre
Dame but liked La Madeleine Church. Saw
only outside of Opera House but it looked very imposing. Was not very impressed by shops. It is said to be capable of seating 3,000
people (Opera House) very majestic looking, splendid architecture.
(My note: the diary
goes blank for some pages and then begins again and I realize I am reading
chronologically (or route wise) backwards, so after reading to the very last
page, I decide to transcribe pages in most logical order and merge paragraphs
that repeat earlier ones but add extra information. Greenie then repeats some of what she has
already written about Paris but with extra information. I have drawn her observations together to
make the diary run in chronological order and this required a little selective
editing without losing information.)
We cannot get
accustomed to these make believe rolls for breakfast, they are so light.
BRUSSELS, BELGIUM.
We leave Paris for
Brussels. We reach Brussels and the
street and hotel not too good but had bathroom etc., but driver took us to some
nice places. Lovely buildings, very old
but artistic and well-kept. Market
square and its government building, which I liked, and the Royale Arcade where
we dined or lunched at very nice restaurant, Café (Tavern) Royale. Very well run and good food and drink for those
who are fastidious. £1-0-0 per head. Sunday morning bird selling day. Laces and China beautiful. Handmade blouse, no sleeves £10-10-0, brought two small
mats instead. These two drivers drove at
80 kilo and hour and over cobbles, it was very mad tiring.
DUSSELDORF, GERMANY.
Buy a Leica
camera. We stay at Dusseldorf and
disappointed in Rhine drive. Germany
very expensive and blown to pieces during war, terrible. People look very German and women of 45 and
over look grim, men fat and bloated, horrid fat red hands and thick necks and
egg shaped heads. Young men look very
nice and different. Germany nice, Black
Forest, lovely. Now to Amsterdam.
AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS.
We arrive at Amsterdam
after passing through Rotterdam and Koln.
Hotel America and it was very comfortable and clean and Amsterdam vert
interesting with its canal and boats and hundreds of cyclists (hundreds of
them). Dozens and dozens of chairs and
tables outside give it the continental effect.
We arrive at Darmstadt and like it indeed, nice clean building, large
and modern. All these places have had
their share of bombing. We stay only one
night and move on to Dusseldorf and quite comfortable room but facing bombed
buildings. This place had a very heavy
bombing.
SWITZERLAND.
Arrived 25/8/54. (My note:
after this at top of page Greenie has written ‘read this later’. I’m putting this in the order I think it goes.)
Raining off and
on. Four days continued motoring as ever
since we have arrived, the different manufacturers come 55 miles to collect us
and then drive us home again. On the
festival night here 28/8/54. It was a
grand affair, fireworks, dancing in the street, concert, vaudeville, boats lit
up out on the lake. I was too exhausted
to go even though tickets were procured for us.
Next day a luncheon party after driving another 60 miles. This time it was most interesting. I believe our host is a
multi-millionaire. He went to America to
transact business and has brought back many American ideas.
He inherited this
place. It is on the edge of Lake Constance
and he has a motor launch, three sculling boats, 2 rowing boats, a large motor
boat and a very large yacht, a lovely home with lift installed and house has
just everything. At lunch the butler and
maid wore white gloves on their hands.
It looked so odd to see these white things coming in front of your with
a dish of something. Beautiful vegetable
and flower gardens, 6 glass houses for hot house plants, 9 hole golf course,
stables and horses, swimming pool and a steam room in which to warm oneself
after a swim, a lake fresh water. All
this and the owner such a disappointed and lonely being. Three wives left him!!!
Mr. Stoffel’s Villa, Lake Constance,
Switzerland
Greenie
and Pop at Stoffel’s Villa, Lake Constance
The mountain and lakes
in Switzerland are really beautiful and so is the countryside with its
well-kept and well-worked farms. Indians
are gradually creeping into this lovely place as are Negroes. This country is said to have the best trams
in Europe. They are so brightly painted
blue and white and are quite long.
Went for another drive
and phone call to bedroom, “Mrs. Greenwood your driver is here”, and so we go
down to well uniformed chauffeur and shiny black Buick and off we go to see
another manufacturer and taken out to very nice club for lunch. Whilst driving back (a perfect day at last)
we could see snow on mountains in distance.
It looked so beautiful and so did the country through which we
drove. Driver could not speak English so
when Pop used a few German words the driver was delighted.
Brunnen.
Brunnen, Switzerland
Greenie in Brunnen, Switzerland
(My note: Switzerland
and I’m not sure if Brunnen came before or after Zurich as it was added as a
note at top of page.) A lovely place
where we lunched, fish pulled out of lake and cooked as wanted, so we
believe. Village built on edge of lake
and so very beautiful is this lake. All
lunch tables out on footpath. Food good
and place clean and people friendly.
Would like to have stayed here.
ZURICH.
We arrive at Zurich
and it is loveliest place of all. Clean,
well-managed but expensive. Meat 12/-
pound. Fruit looks so tempting and
nicest cakes I have ever tasted. Its
lakes (one is quite near our hotel) and mountains and well-kept farms. A lovely place to live. People so very friendly and helpful and
fastidious and nice looking young folk, but expensive. We stayed at the St. Goddard Hotel.
We leave Zurich much
to my regret and arrive at Gotschen valley of mountains. Hotel not too good but best there, lie in bed
and look at snow-capped mountains and a small balcony to our room, china jug
and basin etc. We gave a lift to a
middle aged German woman (refined) who is quite convinced Hitler still
lives. The Proprietor speaking quite
good English and such a dainty type and so sweet. Her husband, a great big unshaven creature,
who would have allowed her to carry up heavy suit cases but Pop had other
ideas.
We leave this hotel
and instead of putting ourselves and car on train through tunnel, were
persuaded to go over the Alps. Snow
covered Alps everywhere and water rushing down in very many places. This drive very dangerous but gives one the
experience and chance of seeing a colossal piece of engineering skill. Road making and bridge building and I could
not look either side of me because of the height of Alps one side and the depth
of gorge the other side. 35 turns
(elbow) in 14 miles. I really considered
the drive from Zurich to Gotschen much more breathtaking in beauty and road
work every few miles we had to pass under small, or rather through, small
tunnels and the lake so blue and with its large white yacht moving along it
looked completely perfect. We drove
beside this lake for many miles.
Friday we leave
Gotschen and arrive at Como. Firstly
(like the French) we do not feel any friendliness. They each look as though
they disliked English. 2/6 per person
for a cup of tea without milk!!
LAKE COMO.
Como. Hotel Metropole Swisse, guide nice, right on
Lake. We dine out near footpath and
watch boats coming and going whilst trams nearly take the end table with them
so close is the road to one end of hotel. We can also watch the car (about as long as
one railway carriage) taking its passengers (vertically) up the mountain. This place could be beautiful but race seem
naturally slovenly and we think becoming decadent. Goods and shops moderately priced. Hand worked silk blouses £6-6-0. Como is the home of silk industry. I had not expected to see so many fair
haired, blue eyed and red haired people.
A number of Italians
will never forgive Britain for her interference with Mussolini and Selassie. I have been out of circulation again, nature
making me rest up instead of rushing around.
I have been in bed three days with a very severe attack of hay fever (a
wog) but also our room and bathroom very nice, both are very hot.
We leave tomorrow,
Wednesday 7th September, I think for the Italian Riviera and stay two nights
with a manufacturer, who we find are almost multi-millionaires. We will be driving through Milan, a city I
have always been interested in because of its vastness and historical past.
We have driven through
and it must, like all large Roman cities, have been built on a magnificent
scale. As the day was terrifically hot
and I was ill, I could not walk round and have a good look at it, also our
Italian had still many miles at 90 kilometres to go. Villa d’Este built for Napoleon. We lunched here taken by a manufacturer. An hotel full of Americans but very
sumptuous.
The drive to Italian
Riviera and arrival at Villa of Senora Catanino.
Was so ill the morning
of leaving Como. Felt it too impossible
to make it. I could scarcely see or walk
without help, fever, sore throat and mouth and vomiting (latter crossed out). The journey to Villa a nightmare. Fortunately we had a driver. Pains in my tummy almost unbearable. The strangest attack I have ever had and now
have a shocking cough. Was sent to bed
on arrival 3.30pm and thankful.
The Villa, a
picturesque, three storey house but up higher from township, therefore
overlooking the Italian Riviera with its huge and expensive boats and numerous
varied coloured sun umbrellas. Not as
lovely as Balmoral Beach. Again, as it
appears in France, looking rather decadent and Genoa really depressing, very
narrow road and curves every few yards.
balcony of Catanino's Villa
Greenie with Catanino family
The chappie who drove us could not speak any English and whilst going through Milan a police man came up to him for doing something he should not do and, as the car had G.B. on it and he had blue eyes and fair hair, he cunningly looked at the policeman with a vacant look in his eyes and I was so amazed at the flow of the policeman’s language that I practically had my head out of car and at last the policeman looked at all of us disgustedly and said “Scram”. We had a good laugh at our driver’s quick astuteness (at pretending to be English).
Milan must have been,
like Florence, at one time a magnificent town!
It is colossal and the architecture something on cannot possibly
describe, but such a hot place. Florence
is a very busy place and, like Milan, very old and a ‘has been’ and smells very
much indeed and buildings looked so dirty and ready to fall to pieces. Shops here very beautiful in them but the only
things that are cheap are blouses. Most
thing, especially leather, very expensive and the town of leather industry.
On the Continent Pop
can handle the currency (cash) better than they and nearly always comes off
best. He gets the poor things so
confused. They are hot and bothered on
completion of deal and glad to be rid of us.
These Italians drive one round at 90 kilometres an hour and wave both
their hands about in trying to express their meaning and the car turns corners
by itself and in such narrow and crowded streets also the driver is looking at
Pop and not even watching the road. I
feel sure this horrible experience gave me hay fever. 9.30pm. and Pop is still battling with
manufacturers in hotel and bringing samples to me at the Villa where we slept
for two nights. It was lovely, a
beautiful entrance hall, 50x30ft, palms etc. and a lovely wide marble
staircase, marble balustrade to all floors.
Every comfort. Dining room 28ft x
38ft and a waiter and maid who wore, as is evidently the custom over here,
white gloves whilst serving meals, a governess for two children, 8 and 10, a
nurse maid for each of two other children, a laundress permanently there, cook,
cleaner, two house maids, two gardeners.
This is the summer house of one of the manufacturers. Ever since coming to Italy and Switzerland we
have had to eat spaghetti with just a bit of tomato sauce put on top. Pop and I had to eat it or we would have been
hungry, if anyone ever dishes up spaghetti again to me, I’ll crown them with
it.
At the Villa, before
setting out for a 245 mile journey (and I was ill) we were given our breakfast
out on terrace of two rolls and tea each.
Really it is no wonder these people here are pasty faced, big tummied
and fat women at about 35. This family
were kindness itself but they do not eat breakfast over here. The mosquitoes were as large as horse stingers,
although we had nets, we were badly bitten.
A railway train junction almost under our window and trains going all
night with about 17 carriages, 4 churches striking all night and each a few seconds
later than the last one, washing hanging out all windows. Windsors ? and ? stay here. Italian Riviera!!
HOTEL MINERVA, FLORENCE.
Third floor, public
square below us, lovely grass plots, fountain, thousands of pigeons, millions
of young children and older ones screaming out to each other, mothers screaming
out to them trams tearing past and motor coaches and phaetons with their tired
and broken down race horses pulling them and their bells tinkling but I would
have to be pretty helpless to go into one of these phaetons as the poor horses
look so exhausted. The children go home
about 10.30pm but all other noises including the noisy and innumerable scooters
continue until about 2.30 but start again at 4.30. Church Bells chime about the hour of 5.30am. Also on this public square are to water melon
stalls and as these people have had no summer until this last week, they are
feeling the heat and the water melons are in great demand in spite of flies and
this town also smells terribly.
We go shopping. Shops close for lunch from one until three
and stay open until 7 or 8. The straw
market here is something to remember and so very fascinating. Anything and everything made of straw, even
skirts, and so pretty. Pop and I so
tired walking about waiting for shops to reopen that we had to join all and
sundry and sit on Town Hall steps in cool shade. We must have looked funny (to) see the hobo’s
round us. It is frightfully hot here. We do not like Italy, smelly, dirty.
ROME.
From Florence.
Like Rome, Milan and
Florence must have been wonderful once.
We arrive at Rome. Had a very
long drive, 245 miles, not kilometres, and through very primitive
villages. Women doing their washing in
dirty creeks and carrying pails of water on their heads and a bundle of wood or
something else in either hand. Donkeys
pull the carts which are laden with dry straw or reeds along with father
sitting on top and mama trotting along beside him. In one cart father was driving a very large
load of these reeds and mama and young son slipped off and papa went on driving
with these two poor souls calling out to him to wait, but with such clamour, as
there is on the roads, mama and son just had to run and catch up. All drivers here drive at about 70 kilometres
an hour and use their horn all the way.
I saw very little of
Rome, as we were only there on day and it was so very hot that after being ill,
I just could not stand the noise and heat so lay in room with blinds and
windows closed. Rome is a wonderful
place, full of places of great interest.
The architecture can beat any of England’s hollow. I am naturally sorry to say so, except the
ceiling in England’s churches, nothing could come up to them. We went for a “see Rome by night”, supposed
to be from 9.30 until quarter to 12. We
started at quarter to 10 and stopped at Rome’s Soho for wine, half hour. Pop and I sat in coach and waited half hour
next on to the best night club. We were
not even dressed suitably for it and had to sit for an hour. We made a bit of a fuss and were driven round
about four places twice and then back to hotel, £1-0-0
each. Of course the huge coach was full
of younger people and Americans and they were not interested in old historic
buildings.
We could have had a taxi for half of the
money and seen much more. I was so very
disappointed as I have always been interested in old Roman history and it would
have been so familiar to me. We were
piloted into Rome and now we have been piloted out of it and have reached our
last place of our trip. We had a long
hot drive again today but on a straight road shaded by trees, but of course,
Naples is hotter than Rome. We are on a
corner of hotel where trams again nearly hit the corner of hotel and across the
road is Railway Station. I am so glad to
leave Italy. It has really spoiled the
last part of our trip. The country is
such a hard country to work. I think the
farmers have a terribly hard lot making a success of it. All the family seem to help also. Washing even in the Italian Riviera is strung
along the walls or on fences blowing against trams as they pass. The hotel’s (mainly) are very badly run and
dirty, the waiters’ white coats and bows(?) are very soiled. The rate of unemployed is terrific. One lad wants me to try and get someone to
sponsor him out to Australia. How can
I? Such a nice chap. Blue eyes and red hair. Orphan.
NAPLES, CALLED NAPOLI. 16-9-54.
We had to drive 2 miles between(?) carbide
pits. Carbide of all smells.
Pop is out trying to make final arrangements
re Zephyr car and loading it onto Orsova on the 20th. The Agents said we could use it until day
before sailing but Pop firmly said ‘no’.
They could have it from now on.
He says he never wants to drive again and looks as though he means it, so
tired out. 4,678 miles, no wonder!
The people have tried to help us to find
our way in and out of cities and some have jumped on their cycles and piloted
up in front quite a long way and others have got into our car and shown us to
our hotels and then they themselves had to train it back again but two
different groups of Italians looked at our G.B. (Great Britain) plate and said,
“Anglaise, huh!!”, and sent us in the wrong direction but we suspected them and
so did not go far. All foreign countries
pronounced Australia “Orstraalya”.
Whilst parked outside hotel at Naples a
few men cruised round car after seeing Pop get out and, seeing his one arm,
they had to poke their faces right into window to see how he drove and were
very interested and so are any children who see him driving.
Naples.
Somerset Maugham says, “The most depraved city in all Europe.” See Naples and die and glad to.
The dirtiest and most overcrowded trams
that I have ever seen. Pop and I are
really starving for food and at present he is ill. Thank goodness, God willing, we board our
ship S.S. Orsova tomorrow, 20/9/54 at 11am.
These four days have really dragged terribly. We refuse to go out, everything too revolting
and weather so hot.
We are facing large railways station and
square where taxis and horses and buggies park.
The horses bring the flies and help add to smell and trams and cars and
huge wagons rush past our window ringing bells and tooting horns.
Ground floor of hotel really superb but
there luxury ends completely. People
have raved about Naples. They must have
been blotto and even advised us to take a trip from hotel. 11 hour trip to Island of Capri £3 per
head. After seeing the Italian Riviera,
I just don’t believe it is lovely!!
After so much delay, we board our ship at
Naples and it would be hard for anyone to even imagine how thankful we were to
feel that, at last, we could sleep in fresh clean cabin between clean sheets
and eat clean food, even though it is badly cooked as seems usual on ships. Good food, spoilt passengers, a very mixed
crowd so different to “Ceramic”. Ten
doctors, one “Lady”, one “Hon.” And others could be wealthy milk men, builders
or estate agents considering them as a type.
Whilst looking at the men, who seem to be
able to eat and drink quite a lot at any time and late hours and strenuous
games, I am glad that Pop looks so straight and clear eyed and without
bulges. Before we embarked at Naples we
had to go through different offices to sign for car, have our passports
examined and, believe me, with all of Naples’ poverty these offices and wharf
are something in very modern architecture.
This building was really wonderful and spacious and clean and well
equipped. I was amazed.
We met our friend from Perth who decided
to come on this ship after inquiring if we were booked on her. There is no quiet spot to go to on this
ship. One cannot even snooze on deck as
chairs are continually being scraped back and forth. The lift boy on ship is very amused as he
says. Wives are always looking for their
husbands and latter always looking for their wives. Unless one arranges to meet somewhere one
could miss out seeing friends for couple of days, as there are two sittings for
meals.
Passengers who embarked at Port Said
(horrible place, we went ashore for half an hour, natives dirty and a nuisance
and when selling their ware, saying ‘cheap at half the price’ and calling any
woman passenger, “lady Sydney, Mrs Lady.
Hello Sydney buy wee rug etc.” and one calling himself Wee McTavish. But the heat was unbearable, we only
purchased a sewing basket for R. Tremaine.
To return to passengers who embarked at Port Said and Naples. We have been invited to cocktail party
tonight. We will attend but as soon as
our name is called out we shall walk in one door and out the other for too
hot. But for the air-conditioning Pop
and I could not have stood the heat.
My(?) special dry heat and Purser each day, over megaphone, warning
passengers against drinking iced drinks and sunbaking and to take more salt
during humidity.
Just through partition near my bed is
someone (a man) ill with gout in bed and I can him using his knife and
fork. He has to have his meals in
bed. I wish he did not have to cough up
so often.
24-9-54 Mr and Mrs A Keeling on board. (My note: I have no idea who the Keelings are.)
25-9-54
We passed through Canal and how hot and
terrifying the desert looks, so sizzling and hot, but at Port Suez, the town
very populated with modern houses and flats and, I guess, shops. In fact it looked very nice.
We had to wait five hours in heat to allow
a convoy of oil tankers pass through Canal.
Strange no seagulls yet! Saw
camel and caravan in distance. English
airmen rowed out in boat to talk to passengers.
They only had khaki shorts on and berets, some minus berets and the men
as brown as copper yet so jolly. Cannot
imagine them being able to smile camped in this awful place.
Poor Pop tramped through this country
during 1914-1918 war. 1 pint of water a
day to wash, shave and clean teeth.
Aden
Sunday went ashore for two hours. Bought shirt for Malcolm, Ron and Bill, two
pairs, ½ slippers for Bev and Marg and 2 blouses for myself. How Aden smelt. Natives so devoid of surplus fat that you can
nearly see through them, mostly tall features not heavy, looking very starve
and poor. Goats roaming among traffic
looking for scraps of food. Heat
terrific and I cannot imagine a place more barren, how sorry I feel for anyone,
black or white, who is compelled to live there.
Camels looking their weird and ungainly appearance even though they hold
their heads so proudly. Shops well
stocked, blouses, camers(?) and shirts only bargains. Shops without windows mostly, natives serving,
can speak English fairly well.
SS ORSOVA.
Would never travel on her again. Plenty games and entertainment for passengers
but food horrible. Most enticing looking
menu but chicken raw in fact, rice gooey, uncooked, sweets impossible. The ship collects its salad ingredients from
Italy and Colombo.
COLOMBO, SRI LANKA.
We should arrive at Colombo Thursday
30-9-54, tomorrow at 10am, depart midnight.
Poor dirty natives had to help us onto
launch. I tried not to shudder when they
grasped my bear arms but they were kindly and so we have been ashore at
Colombo. Shops mostly with dark interior
but a few very modern ones with lifts.
Some beautiful silk dress material but Pop and I did not like touching
it. Possibly it was expensive. Place smelt very unpleasant and beggars
crawling along footpath on three limbs and one stump of leg, little mites of
children with such mischievous grins, begging. These, Pop could not refuse and
one poor lamb met up with us again and made me take a Frangipani and gave me
such a happy smile. What do they live
on? Do they work? Such numbers roaming listlessly about the
street with their filthy dirty white robes and turbans. Passengers raving about the place. I could not live even near them. The footpaths are covered with the remains of
the betel nut!!
Went into one jeweler shop just looking
and met an Indian who, to my surprise, mentioned a man in Melbourne, a wealthy
antique jeweler whose wife I used to stay with. This shop has a pair of Kozminsky diamond and
sapphire earrings for £6-0-0. However,
Pop could not take any more of darkies, filth and heat, neither could I and so
we came back to ship and bought a pink(?) elephant from boats and 1/6(?) fan.
We had arrived on ship from Italy hungry and
are still hungry. We could not eat our
meals were it not for our glass of beer.
Every time one native saw me on deck he
would grin up from boat and say, “How much you give Madam?” When he persisted in sending up things on
rope to the boat I had to clap my hands and say, “No”. The darkies who come out in numerous boats to
bargain. It is rather awful this
haggling but I believe it is the only method they have of doing business. He wanted 30/- (no) 25/- (no) £1-0-0 (no)
15/- yes and earlier he had sold one elephant for 10/- but poor beggars, they
do work hard to sell their goods and I really think they enjoy bargaining. It is said they do. If only they did not get under your feet and
hem one in so, it would not be quite so irritating. Pop tells them to scram. Of course, outside the city it is, I hear,
very beautiful. I can believe. I am now in bed, 8.30, and so Goodbye Colombo.
Sunday 4th October 1954 – We are on
SS Orsova and we attend picture show film called “Calamity Jane”. (Rubbish).
Last Sunday it was a murder picture.
Very uplifting films on this ship!!
This ship is not at all tastefully
furnished. Colouring hard on the eyes or
depressing with the exception of one coffee lounge, which is furnished in a
rather dark green and looked inviting during trip through tropics. One room red.
Cannot get a perm on this ship only shampoo and set.
Passengers mostly pastoral people but not
the polo playing type, but hard-working looking people. Very natural and nice folk mostly. Some Jewish people who spent most days in
elaborate shop on ship and finally paid a bill for £400 for jewelry. Shop always crowded and this seemed so
strange to me that these passengers had so much cash left after travelling over
nearly every country in the world and it is no longer cheap to indulge in much
globetrotting.
Ship badly organized other than of sports
and entertainments, which were excellent for people of all ages.
Furnishings not at all easy on the
eyes. A comfortable sailing ship and
does not pitch or roll. Stabilizers
used. Very regular and strict crew
drill. If passengers were caught in
toilet or bath they had to stay in cabin until drill over as fireproof doors
closed etc.
I was one of them, very funny!!
Calm voyage.
END OF WRITTEN DIARY.
Greenie’s additional notes on the hotels
and guest houses in which they stayed.
First spot and hotel to stay at in England
was Grand Hotel, Plymouth. Good –
Plymouth Hoe.
Platt’s Hotel, Bath. Moderate.
Knutsford, England, Ye Angel Hotel. 3 weeks very nice country town and hotel and
food.
Guest House at Keswick just north from the
Lakes, Windemere, called “Brackenrigg”.
Miss Horton, very inexpensive, very clean and nicely cooked meals, quiet
and lovely, no electricity but twilight until 11pm. May – June.
Troon, Scotland, Craiglea Hotel. Good.
Edinburgh, Claremont Hotel. Very poor.
4 large Alsatian dogs kept in kitchen.
Returning to London.
Catterick Bridge Hotel. Food poor otherwise all else lovely.
English Garden Hotel. Everything and people very nice.
Nexxt stop London.
Lists of other places where we stayed at
on another page.
Hotels England.
Ivanhoe (two nights). Comfortable, food awful.
Guest House 198 Cromwell Road, S.W.S. Very comfortable, food excellent, stayed
seven weeks.
France.
Hotel Balmoral. 2 days, 3 nights. Comfortable (no food).
Burssels.Hotel Bedfort. 3 nights, 2
days. Not to be recommended. We had splendid meals at “Tavern Royale” in
Royale Arcade there. Beautiful undies,
furs, laces, vases and china etc.
Germany.
Hotel Furstenhoff, 4 days, comfortable, good meals.
Oarmstatte Hotel, Straube. One night, comfortable, nice meals.
Freiberg, one night, comfortable, food
moderate.
Holland.
Amsterdam, Hotel American 3 nights, 2
days. Clean and very good hotel and
lovely. Food very good, beside canal.
Switzerland.
Zurich.
Hotel St. Gotthard. Eight days, very ccomfortable, clean and very good
food.
Italy.
Como.
Hotel Metropole Swisse. 4
days. Comfortable, food moderate.
Rapallo.
Stayed at friend’s villa two nights.
Italian Riviera. Nice people,
nice home. I was very ill here
Florence.
Hotel Albergo Mineerva.
Comfortable, food poor.
Rome.
Hotel Imperali One day, two
nights, uncomfortable, food poor.
Naples.
Hotel Terminus.
Our ship Orsova.
Cabin good and comfy but food and bedrooms
poor. From Como to Sydney we drank beer
at meals to induce appetite for food. We
were starving almost from Como. The
poverty in Italy will haunt me for ever.
At France (Paris) we had a mad chauffeur. At Brussels also (chauffeur) not quite so mad.
All drive on the motor horn and at first I
found it rather nerve racking.
Most uncomfortable driving in small car over
cobbles at 80 to 90 kilometres an hour.
Saw Leaning Tower of Pisa but have
forgotten where it is, near “La Spezzia”, Italy I guess. It has a frighteningly list on it and nearby
buildings lovely architecture.
Saw Eiffel Tower in France, very wonderful
and surrounding lawn of flowers give it a lovely effect. One 17 year old boy climbed the Tower one
night. Also saw building where Major
Jean Longchamp flew his R.?.?. (Hawker Typhoon) plane at it and machined it and killed eleven
Germans. Bullet holes to be seen very clearly.
There are more photos of the trip, however, the blog is long and I may put these up at a later date.
I hope you enjoyed my grandparent's trip now almost seventy years in the past.
END.
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