I seem to have collected some more readers so once a week I will add a chapter.....Les [and will try to solve the photos problem later too]
Chapter 5 1968 - Europe - the third month
{After this section, maps show the route taken and overnight stays are underlined}
A month in the UK
After the lack of sleep on the crossing and lines to clear customs before dawn, we drove just five miles west, pulled into a safe place on the roadside and slept in the Citroen until 8am.... the car really was a comfortable bedroom. Nearby Brighton provided breakfast, and an RAC office where we equipped ourselves with U.K.maps and guidebooks which assisted greatly over the weeks to come. The latter especially in finding Bed and Breakfast locations given that campgrounds were neither plentiful nor close to the cities we wanted to visit.
There were some Mensa contacts in nearby Worthing and we spent an interesting couple of days touring the surrounding countryside, socializing with Daphne, Ivan and Alan in the evenings at local pubs before sleeping and breakfasting at a small hotel. On our drives from Worthing we particularly enjoyed the very English views of the river at Arundel complete with swans, the museum of Roman ruins at Fishbourne, and visiting National Trust houses in the area.
One contrast to our continental experiences came in the dining room of our little hotel where Mr. King, the proprietor, put on his dinner jacket each morning - and what a breakfast! Grapefruit, cereal, eggs, bacon and tomatoes followed by toast and marmalade accompanied by Mr. King’s opinions on the A-bomb, the weather, and recommendations for laundromats.
Two other drastic changes from France were evident in the first two days in the south of England. First, we were driving a large car with left-hand-drive amongst predominantly small, right-hand-drive cars and for the most part, on narrow roads. Passing other vehicles was quite a challenge. Whichever Dickason was in the passenger seat had to look ahead and give advice on what could be seen and whether passing was safe. We soon discovered that this was not easy because the driver had to rely on the other’s judgement, though that person did not have an accurate feel for the circumstances of power and gear at the time. As a result, we spent more time than normal waiting for a safe stretch of road, staying behind farm vehicles or slow trucks and cars.
Secondly, after our culinary delights on the continent we became resigned to pub food, not all of it of a high standard. We started to smile at each other as platters holding ham steak and mushy peas, ploughman’s lunch, steak and kidney pie with not very hot ‘chips’, and puddings such as stodge or trifle arrived at our table to accompany the best bitter we ordered instead of expensive imported wine.
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Despite the late nights and pub lunches with Daphne and friends in Worthing, we eventually caught up on the lost sleep and drove north to rendezvous with Les’ younger brother Graeme who, that year, was living east of London in Romford and teaching at a local school.
The Dartford Tunnel provided a crossing of the Thames and quick access to Romford where we arrived just as brother Graeme returned from work. Our plan was to spend two nights there with the day in between spent in London proper attending to the various housekeeping stops that were required to facilitate the rest of the stay in Europe.
We used public transit to reach the centre of London and our steps took us not only to American Express for the mail and money changing, Air Canada, Olympic Airways and TWA offices for travel confirmations in October, but to shops on Regent Street, and landmarks such as Piccadilly Square, Charing Cross Station, with Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament peeping through the tall buildings from time to time as we walked.
Our early impressions were that everything looked just like in British movies we had seen; men in dark 3-pieced suits carrying furled umbrellas and brief-cases, ladies smartly dressed though often with comfortable shoes for walking to work, buskers playing a variety of instruments, patrons in pubs with dogs at their feet, everyone with a slightly pained look.
The logic of our very short stay in London was to head north and west to visit Scotland, Ireland and Wales while there were chances of good weather [English oxy-moron?] and to stay longer in London just before returning to France in October. Plans to visit Cambridge on our way north were dampened by very heavy rains which continued all day. With the help of fast driving on the M-1 we covered considerable territory and found ourselves in Yorkshire, where rising flood waters resulted in detours, and a scramble of guidebooks and torch/flashlight to eventually find accommodation - in the very old Cross Keys in Malton. There, after dinner we watched Mission Impossible on the TV in the lounge with what was becoming ‘our usual’ - Best Bitter.
There were more detours the next morning - and more rain. We skirted Middlesborough and Newcastle upon Tyne, before stopping early in West Woodburn not far from the border with Scotland. A break in the rain in the early afternoon meant some actual sightseeing - Hadrian’s Wall, Castle Howard and Rievaulx Abbey all within easy driving distances from our route northwards.
When we woke in the Fox and Hounds next day, the flood waters on the Rede River had cut the road within sight of our bedroom window. The 80 mile drive to Edinburgh became one of 160 miles instead as we detoured, this time back to Newcastle upon Tyne, then along the East coast road. This was definitely not the most scenic route.
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Our first two attempts to reach the Edinburgh Mensa contact on our list proved unsuccessful so we used our trusty RAC guide to find a bed and breakfast in the suburb of Newington just south of the city centre. This proved to be an excellent base for some days of sight-seeing, going to the theatre [seeing “The Odd Couple” - of all the plays to find in Scotland], eating in the inevitable pubs, and generally enjoying the slow pace of this lovely city.
Our next destination was Stewarton where we located two Scottish lassies who had been teaching in Nanaimo for a year and had played tennis with Les and Pat at weekends; Alene and Andy. The drive with them along ‘millionaire’s row’ was quite a contrast after the suburbs of Glasgow crossed earlier that day. Dinner together at Prestwick Airport [the only good restaurant nearby according to Alene] was fun, and they provided some hints for our next days of travel to the north in Scotland.
Consequently, we spent time in a ‘wool’ shop near Loch Lomond where Les bought a very comfortable sheepskin coat and Pat bought a lovely package of woollen tartan material which came with liner, buttons and a pattern for making a skirt. We realized, while eating a pub lunch on the shore of nearby Loch Long that we had been spared rain since we crossed into Scotland.
Taking advantage of the dry spell, we drove across Glasgow [huge contrast to Edinburgh] and went off the main road going south to the tiny village of Leadhills and the Hopetoun Arms which boasted of serving beer at the highest altitude in Scotland [1200 feet] and claimed to be the highest residential hotel too. Leadhills was situated in the middle of low rounded hills with rocks and grass but no trees. Our strolling took us to the treeless Leadhills Golf Club, where sheep seemed to serve as lawn-mowers, and there was nowhere for golfers to shelter from any wind that might blow.
We were the only diners that evening and the lady owner of the hotel proudly told us that the Marquis of Linlithgow, Lord Snowdon and Ogilvie’s brother always came to stay there in mid-August for the Grouse Opening. Our room that night, complete with a huge four footed porcelain bath in the middle of the bedroom, had electric blankets and heaters, but ‘no need to put in a shilling in the meter because this is his Lordship’s room,’ said the owner.
Porridge and tatie cakes for breakfast the next morning were from the recipes used for his Lordship, and then we left ‘dry’ Scotland and headed south on the western coast of England, finding Cumberland less than scenic. After turning inland to the Lakes District the scenery improved dramatically with rolling hills, lakes and oh so pretty villages. Over the next 48 hours we found markers for birthplaces and graves for famous Englishmen, such as Wordsworth and Coleridge, as we drove on to an overnight stay in Lakeside - fitting we thought for the Lake Country.
The lake was stunningly beautiful in the early morning, almost as fine as the pile of hot buttered toast and the best marmalade yet. Following a short trip down the
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motorway to Chester, we turned into lovely Wales. Fishing villages and castle ruins, suspension bridges and views almost across to the Isle of Man, then Holyhead to prepare for our trip ‘across the sea to Ireland.’
However, the travel gods ganged up on us and the crossing was not to be. We were mightily discouraged by the fact that the cost of the ferry would be based on the length of our car - hence very expensive given that we had a long car in comparison with the smaller British models. Additionally there had been mechanical problems with the ferry system so we could not cross the next day as planned, and the advance weather reports were not promising either. The alternative was to spend the night at Mrs. Murphy’s Bed and Breakfast in Holyhead and explore Wales further the next day and to add Coventry to our list of cities to visit.
Taking advantage of the last sunshine of this fabulous spell of weather we thoroughly explored Carnarvon Castle next morning, then drove south in the rain to Aberystwyth where we had to climb five flights of stairs to our room at the Groves Hotel.
Rain and wind continued for all of our driving from Aberystwyth back into England and east to Coventry - maybe it was fortuitous that we had decided not to cross to Ireland - it would have been a rough crossing. We were disappointed not to be able to walk around the streets of small towns with their half-timbered houses, but we decided to compensate by staying at a bed and breakfast for two nights and hope for drier weather. Our find, thanks to the guidebook, was the Camp Farm Guest House on the Balsall Commons just outside Coventry. It was set in 33 acres and featured a working farm complete with a basset named Sam with her four young pups. One of the other guests at the dining table at the guest house that night had been a groom with the British equestrian team at the Olympic Games in Tokyo and Rome and he entertained us and other diners with fascinating stories as we enjoyed a huge dinner which featured ingredients from the farm...... pork chops, beans, potatoes, apple pie with cream. It was one of the best meals for September!
Camp Farm Guest House September visited 1968
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Despite the temptation to stay at the guest house and play with Sam and her delightful puppies, we drove off the next day and enjoyed a triangular route which provided a combination of a visit to the Coventry Cathedral with all of its memorials, challenging architecture and statuary, and a visit to Kenilworth Castle which dates back to Henry I, is mentioned in the Doomsday Book, and reputedly hosted knights at a round table.
Kenilworth Castle - early 12th C.
On the way back to our guest house we saw the signs for the National Jumping Finals, and we spent time watching the horses and riders in action even though we lacked the appropriate attire, which of course included jodhpurs and boots. We met several of the jumping crowd at dinner that evening at our B&B but after another wonderful dinner of local products [chicken this time] we excused ourselves and went to play with the puppies. In our opinion the horsey set at table had very little conversation outside their one interest and we preferred the company of the little animals.
Our rural exploration of England concluded the next day as we visited several small villages with thatches everywhere, as well as Jane Austen’s house, passed farms with scarecrows, had dinner in Godalming, sought in vain for contacts we had been given by Australian friends, and rested in Guildford overnight before we ventured back into the big city - London.
Somehow the 13 days and nights we spent in London flew by as we combined sightseeing, theatre going, shopping and completing plans for our return to France, flights to Greece and Thailand. The Mensa contact, Peter, was out of the city on business, but he had insisted we visit his residence in SW 15 [almost in Putney] so on our first afternoon we drove there to meet his wife, and were pleasantly surprised to find that the house had a self-contained flat on the top floor - and we were
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welcome to use it as a base for as long as we needed it. The Citroen was parked from late September to early October.
Each day after a short walk to the East Putney tube station, we caught the green line into London proper and our explorations began. Our first full day included a two hour orientation bus tour with ‘hop on, hop off’ privileges. The bus route covered 20 miles and all major attractions. In between hopping on and off we walked along both banks of the Thames, had lunch at a Lyon’s and laughed till we cried at Jacques Tati’s fourth major film, “Playtime.” Our first London evening meal was eaten back in Putney at a local cafe.
Highlights of the London visit included seeing West End productions of Ulysses, Rigoletto, Hotel in Amsterdam with Paul Scofield, The Advertisement with Joan Plowright in the leading role, Romeo and Juliet with an exciting cast of unknown young actors, Don Giovanni, Decline and Fall, The Importance of Being Earnest, Canterbury Tales [the musical - with a cast which included Wilfred Brambles of Steptoe and Son fame], Peter Ustinov’s Half Way Up the Tree with Jimmy Edwards, and as a finale, accompanied by brother Graeme, Fiddler on the Roof with Topol looking right at us in our box as he sang “If I were a rich man.” Seeing Playtime was so enjoyable we went on a detour one day to Wimbledon, not for the grass courts, but to see Tati’s M.Hulot’s Holiday which we still found funny the second time around.
Sightseeing excursions took us to the Monument, Piccadilly Circus, Buckingham Palace and changing of the guards, British Museum, National Portrait Gallery, and Pat spent an idyllic time at Hampton Court Palace while Les was resting to shake off a pesky cold/flu which refused to depart. Meals were often taken on the fly as we dashed from sightseeing to theatre and back to tube stations.
Around this busy schedule, we managed to sort out visas for Thailand, hotel bookings in Greece, a ferry reservation from Dover, mail collection and purchases of traveller’s cheques - and the Putney laundromat was used too.
Near the end of this wonderful period of big city life, our absent host Peter arrived home and we celebrated our last night in London by hosting him, his wife and their two adult children at a Putney Indonesian restaurant [rijsttafel again] and making a bequest of our two sleeping bags and pillows to the very appreciative young folk..... we would not need them for the few remaining nights in Europe.
On Sunday October 6th we had a leisurely drive south through rolling countryside to reach Dover with its gravel beach, white cliffs, the prominent castle, the prison and Elmo Guest House [22 shillings each for the night]. We were sorry to be leaving the UK but excited about a return to France for the balance of our days ‘owning’ the Citroen.
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France - one last time
A half-empty ferry carried us across to Boulogne and once through Customs we happily drove on the ‘right’ side of the road again and used our maps and guidebooks to find a hotel for the night in Bree, within easy driving distance of Mont St. Michel, praying for fine weather this time. At dinner that night we celebrated being able to order from a French menu again, and to have local wine in carafes - no Best Bitter this night.
Mont St. Michel was spectacular the next morning as we crossed the causeway as the tide was rushing out leaving the rock very exposed. Already some stores were closed for the off-season, but we enjoyed our stroll and crossed this famous site off our ‘next trip’ list. Off towards Paris next - via two magnificent sites, Chartres and Versailles. The latter in particular had us shaking our heads and walking with mouths open. The marble, the gardens, the grand canal, the statues lining avenues leading to the chateau - such careful planning and pleasing to the eye. We spent so long wandering around the acres here we decided to stop for the night in a Versailles hotel and brave the drive into Paris the next morning.
Pate and terrines, coq au vin, bifsteak and pommes frites, cheese, fruit and local wine for less than $4 for two.... much cheaper than we expected to pay for dinners in Paris.
Our entry into Paris was frustrating given that we kept encountering ‘no entry’ signs preventing us from going where we had planned on our maps. After crossing the Seine three times, we eventually found Rue Saint Dominique where we asked for a room at the hotel recommended by the Australian tourists we met when waiting for our shuttle bus to the Citroen factory three months ago. The lady was unable to provide the three nights we required, but she telephoned another hotel a little further along the street, and we soon moved all of our belongings into the room there.
Les drove the empty Citroen to the arranged drop-off address, signed the paper work and caught the Metro back to the hotel. The Eiffel Tower was just a short walk away and we ate hot dogs from a stand as we wandered around the Champ de Mars, crossed to the right bank and the Trocadero Gardens, Avenue Georges Pompidou and the Champs Elysees before re-crossing the river and finding our little hotel for a nap.
We had promised ourselves that before we left Europe on this trip we would eat at a Michelin restaurant with at least one star. How to choose a restaurant in Paris when so many had a star, or two or three? Again we decided to allow lady luck to choose for us, and agreed to go to the nearest one star restaurant to our hotel - so, our first real dinner in Paris was at an Italian restaurant!
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However, despite Chez Gildo’s unpretentious interior decor [artificial grape vines on beams, posters of the leaning tower and of gondoliers] the service and the food were outstanding. After the house special martinis, our appetizers were imported that day from Italy - anchovies for Pat, Parma prosciutto and melon for Les. These were followed by minestrone and tortellini as the pasta courses; grilled scampi for Pat and Osso Buco for Les. Pat had a tarte limone while Les tackled the Italian cheese platter. Naturally we drank Chianti from a raffia covered bottle. It was expensive, but less expensive [according to the Michelin Guide] than nearby French-French restaurants. We walked back along the Seine to our hotel with another item checked off on our list of ‘musts’ for Europe - dinner in a ‘starred’ restaurant.
We had two full days in Paris before our flight left for Greece. We discovered that the city was very pedestrian-friendly and we walked to all of the sites on our list; Rue Rivoli for the fancy designer shops and galleries, Notre Dame which was all dressed in green awning while the exterior was being cleaned, the Louvre, the Opera and nearby La Conciergerie, Galleries Lafayette [spectacular view of Paris skyline from the top floor here], the bookstalls of the Left Bank. As a finale on the last afternoon we took a river boat trip which gave us a very different look at Paris from water level.
On the second last night, Les had a gastric flu bug [big city water?], so Pat ate her meal at a restaurant close to the hotel while Les drank mineral water. The restaurant, Thoumieux, a few doors down from our hotel, was a real find! Service and food were at a very lofty level - Pat raved about her pate, Dover Sole and a strawberry dessert. So for our final dinner the next night, we returned and both had wonderful meals of pate, escargots, sole [Dieppoise this time], cassoulet and chocolate mousse. At the end of the meal, we noticed the ‘house cat’ sleeping on the seat of one of the booths - the Maitre D’ explained it had been a tradition since Thoumieux had opened in 1923.
Patient readers who follow these pages in future will find this story continues when we visit Paris in 2008 and return to Thoumieux.
On Saturday October 12th, we left Paris on Olympic Airlines, had a clear view of the Alps, watched as the Greek coast came into sight, and with the help of the airline bus and a taxi, were settled into the Hotel Academia in a room with a glimpse of the Acropolis in mid-afternoon.
{Maps on the following pages}
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