Michael D.Heath-Caldwell M.Arch.

Joe Palmer Diary 1971
June 1971Trip Book

Finder please return to Joe Palmer, 13 Aveley St, Kahibah 2290, NSW, Australia

Sydney - Sunday 6 June 1971Fine and cool

On Sunday 6 June 1971 left Sydney airport via Pan Am Jumbo jet destination Wiesbaden, Germany where I hope to get a job  as secretary to a principal of an American Elementary school in the U.S. Air force base at Wiesbaden (Lindsay Air Station). First stop was Fiji - naturally it was winter in Australia and the heat and humidity was hard to take - even though it was 10 o"clock at night. The tempurature was 80 deg.F. We had half an hour to do some duty free shopping and my hands soon became wet and my clothes stuck to the skin - in the rush I bought a transister radio for U.S.$9.30 plus 200 cigarettes, U.S. $2, bottle ofrum $3 and perfume $4 - all the cheapest prices in the world. Glad to get back on the plane but had a rough take-off as the runway is rugged and short at Fiji and the Jumbo needs all the length possible. 

Sleeping was difficult as the shape of the seats did not suit the contours of my body and couldn't get really comfortable as they wouldn't go back far enough for my taste. Although we had two hours in Honolulu we didn't really have time to see anything but customs officals and check points and two searches - all very tiring - my wallet pocket in my coat eventually tore under the strain which made things a little more inconvenient. 

We were warned before alighting of the searches as the narcotics traffic had increased such a considerable extent. After first check-point the immigration officer took my passport and ticket explaining that I would get them back when I entered Canada because I didn't have a visa for the U.S. Naturally I was worried and so was another bloke whose ticket contained an authorisation for an overnight stay in Los Angeles - he went to the officials and compained and was given that part of his ticket back but I received only my passport - the lack of ticket proved to be inconvenient as I had to explain to officials on the way the reason for not having it. 

Los Angeles certainly did not impress me although I only saw it from the air and the airport itself - also I had to wait at the airport for 7 hours. I must try to avoid this kind of delay in the future. There was also a delay in getting myself and ticket transferred to American Airlines - there were all kinds of explanations but the next day I found out there had been an air crash killing 54 people soon after my plane landed - I suppose that kept them busy for a while. Fortunately I was able to sleep on the American Airlines jet to Cleveland and from there (after I received my ticket back) it was a 1/2 hour trip to Toronto, Canada where it was great to see Eve there to meet me. The immigration people have given me 5 weeks stay in Canada so hope this will be time enough for my visa for Germany to come through. 

Plane travel sure isn't as luxurious as it's made out to be - from now on I hope to travel as lightly and as comfortably as possible.

I've been a week in Canada so far and I'm so lucky and glad to have friends here because they've made me feel so at home which is important to me. So much has happened in the last week it is difficult to remember acutal details - The Monday I arrived was very humid and I felt uncomfortabley tired and exhausted after the trip. Eve and Gordon had to work that evening so went with them CFTO Channel 9 and had a good look over the station - I remember being impressed with the production of a teenage show being made at the time. It was hard to believe I was in Canada when only a matter of hours before I was in Australia on the other side of the world - in fact it has taken a week to adjust to the climate and the change of hours, for instance I've been 

Tuesday 8 June 1971 - Fine, hot, windy hazy

staying up till 4 or 5 in the morning and sleeping in to 2 in the afternoon - I guess this has been made easier by the fact that the sun is setting at 9pm when back home it was going down at 5pm. Canada is on daylight saving time - a terrific idea. 

Tuesday evening we had cocktails in an exclusive club on top of one of Toronto's highest buildings - it was luxurious with a fantastic view but very expensive - here I gained my first experience at tipping - we only stayed one to two hours but the tip done was $10 between the 4 or us. Then we went to what seemed an ordinary type of restaurant but the bill was $50 plus of course the tip!! It was also my first

Wednesday 9 June 1971 - Thursday 10 June 1971

Hamilton Fine, clear, warm

taste of snails and they were delicious! Wednesday we drove down to Hamilton and Dave and Penny's apartment which like Eve and Gordon's is on top of an apartment building. Dave was at work till 2 in the morning so when he got home we talked to about 6am. 

Thursday was spent lazing around talking to Penny.
Friday I went down to the shopping centre (Friday 11 June 1971 - Hamilton to Montreal - Fine and warm) here at Hamilton and generally had a look around the place. Dave was at work again but the following day - Saturday we went for a trip around this part of Canada as Dave has four days off - we have just returned from this trip and it really great. The first day we drove straight along this fantastic expressway to Montreal which 

Sunday 13 June 1971 - Montreal - Fine, warm clear beautiful day.

Montreal is an interesting city, being French oriented and in the French province of Quebec. It was like being in another country as all the signs were in French and there were embarrasing moments when I would speak to someone and could  not be understood - French is the language of the area.

On Sunday we went to the old site of (Monday 14 June 1971 - Ottawa - FIne, warm, windy) - Expo '67 now called "Man and this World." It was a beautiful day and the place was packed with people but was a real experience for me. 
On the Monday we were in Ottoaw - the capital - a small and old city with beautiful parliament buildings - unfortunately I wasn't allowed into the house where parliament was sitting as I had shorts on.

 
Tuesday 15  June 1971 - Algonquin Park - Fine, warm cloudy

Tuesday we visited the beautiful Algonquin national park just crammed with pine trees and blue lakes with the occasional indian - type canoe - a truly picturesque setting if ever there was one. We stopped beside one of these many lakes for a picnic where I fed a cute chipmunk peanuts and went for a swim in the clear fresh water. We made it back to Hamilton that night, the trip was a total of 1,150 miles and no effort in Dave's Ford Galaxi - an average type of car here in Canada. In fact you rarely see a car more than a few years old on these roads and even cars just a few years old rust out quickly because of the salt put on the roads to cut the snow and ice in the winter - there are actually cars with huge holes in the side and under the boot - it seems amazing that they don't fall part - the roads are all good so I guess it helps.

Already I've become aware of the pollution problem the Canadians have in these big cities - Hamilton is about the same size of Newcastle but the pollution is bad - for example there are hills only a few miles distant and they are difficult to see through the haze of pollution - there has been only one day so far when they have been completely visible - I sure hope Australia does something to avoid a similar situation in the future

Wednesday 16 June 1971 - Hamilton - Fine Warm

Went shopping with Dave and Penny - the supermarket had a tremendous range of products - especially meat. There were many cuts of meat I had never seen before - most products seemed very expensive to me, however eggs were 34 cents a dozen. There wasn't much tea on the shelves and what there was was in tea is tea bags mainly. The bill was the usual for two weeks worth of groceries - $50. 

It was great to see Niagara Falls after seening so many pictures of it - what impressed me was the power of water that was pouring over the cliffs and the horror to think of those dare-devils who dropped over the side in barrels. Unfortunately it was a hazy polluted kind of day but still impressive. I rang Mrs Jewell's sister who lives here in Hamilton - she sounded exactly like her.

Friday - 18 June 1971 - Hamilton to Toronto. Fine,

warmFriday evening  went with Dave to see CHCH Channel 11, Dave's place of work - very interesting as it is composed of old buildings scattered round the town but efficient operation. 

Saturday - 19 June 1971

Saturday said goodbye to Dave and Penny and went by Greyhound coach to Toronto and after two more buses found Eve's apartment. Saturday morning went with Eve and Gordon to CFTO TV and watched them work on the news - very smooth presentation.Sunday - 20 June 1971 - Toronto - Hot - Thunderstorms.Sunday was quiet - went to the pictures and had a walk down town Toronto. Thunder storms brough welcome relief to the heat (90*F) 

Monday 21 June 1971 - Toronto.

Monday - beautiful weather - can see for miles - pollution must be right down - went shopping to the interesting store with all kinds of fascinating food from meats to fruit - Gordon bought 3 fillet-mignon steaks plus fresh asparagus, strawberries, cherries etc. We had a great meal that night - Gordon doing the cooking - I really liked the fresh asparagus. Also a bottle of white German wine - delicious. Went to a friends and played some of Gordons classical records. - Tchaikovsky (1812 overture) and The Messiah - the friend then bored us with some dull flute bit of music that caused us to leave as reverently as possible. Received Mum's letter and forms for job in Germany. 

Tuesday 22 June 1971 - Toronto - Fine, warm. 

Tuesday we went to see "Mash," -  a yank farce on the war in Vietnam - its a wonder it wasn't banned in the USA - it certainly makes the army look inefficient. Tuesday evening we planned to go out but Gordon had an asthma attack so ordered Pizza pie instead ($4 plus tip).

Wednesday 23 June 1971 - Toronto - Fine, warm, windy.

We went to the races on Wednesday - a beautiful track but 50c to get in, then 50c to park, then $3 to enter the betting area and grandstand plus minimum bet $2. We all lost on the day - I had one win and bet on 7 races.

Wednesday evening we dined at what must be the best place in Toronto called Sutton Place. I had smoked salmon, turtle soup and the roast duck plus champagne cocktails, German wine, coffee and liquors - total cost of meal plus tip for the 3 or us - $70.

Thursday 24 June 1971 - Toronto - Mild

Thursday went shopping - at last wrote to Mum and Dad. Gordon had bad asthma attack right before and still suffering  - also Eve sick in the afternoon - both had day off from work so we relaxed at home and had some (danish?) shrimps delivered for tea (called scampies).Friday 25 June 1971 - Toronto - Thunderstorms, cool.Woke up Friday to the sound of a tremendous thunderclap - for some reason it sounds different here - perhaps because we are so high up and clouds are so low - its now quite cool and misty - a contrast from the last 3 weeks. 

Saturday - Sunday - 26-27 June 1971 - Toronto - Warm - Hot and thunderstorm.

Saturday was working day - went to work with Eve and Gordon and had a few hours practice on an electric type writter finding myself badly in need of it.Sunday back to CFTO and more practice on the typewriter - not an enjoyable day - bored and fed up waiting for word about visa.

Monday 28 June 1971 - Toronto to Quebec - Warm.

Monday morning left Toronto for Quebec city in the "Rapido" train - not really better than the trains back home - travelled all day to Quebec City arriving about 9pm and settled in to a charming hotel called "The Old Homestead." It had a view of the artists in the street below selling their paintings and an open air bar plus the Anglican Cathedral on one end of the street.

Tuesday 29 June 1971 - Quebec city - Cool.

Spent Tuesday walking round historic Quebec  city with the thousands of other tourists (mainly American). I had no idea it would be so French - everyone speaks French and the old part of town (inside the old city walls) looks like a part of old France had been dumped there. The Quebec people seem to be very proud of their French heritage and guess they resist being part of the British Commonwealth even after all these years. Each time I was spoken to in French even though the same people would recognise a tourist and speak in English - guess it must be the beard - I seemed to fit into the scene there when I realised hour French I really looked. The town is full of historic churches (mainly R.C.) and is the most tourist inclined town I've ever seen. I had sore feet by the end of the day but was revived beyond all belief when I received a phone call from Eve telling me the visa for Germany had come through. 

Wednesday 30 June 1971 - Quebect to Toronto - Warm, humid.

Wednesday I travelled by train back to Toronto a lot happier than when I left and phoned Mum to tell her about the visa - she certainly sounded Australian - without realising it I've become accustomed to the Canadian accent and Mum sounded different - I guess I'm getting a twist in my accent too. A hot and very humid night so I slept on the balcony - unfortunately it rained but was fairly well protected by the layer of blankets and a narrow awning.

Thursday 1 July 1971 - Toronto - Cool to mild.

Thursday and Friday could be grouped together as nothing significant happened except for a tour on Thursday of some of the nicer homes and estates in Toronto with Eve and more practice on an electric typwriter at CFTO TV. Gordon had more trouble with asthma.

Also on Thursday booked ticket to Amsterdam.

Saturday 3rd July 1971 - Toronto - Mild.

Saturday is not likely a day I'll forget in a while - I was driven to the airport by one of Eve's friends (Linda) but on arrival would not be allowed on the plane as my ticket was supposedly made out incorrectly - the difficulty was that the ticket was made out direct from Toronto to Amsterdam but unfortunately the airline did not even fly direct to Amsterdam. I eventually found an airline which did fly direct but they certainly wouldn't help me until I saw Pan Am on Monday and had the ticket changed over - I was very deflated but couldn't do anything about it so managed to get back to Eve at CFTO TV by taxi (which cost $12). I had some trouble contacting Eve as it turns out that Toronto is divided into certain areas, and to get Eve I should have been callingt long-distance even though she was only a few suburbs away. A very upsetting night.

Sunday 4th July 1971 - Toronto - Mild

Spent Sunday making a few phone calls to various airline agencies but to no avail because of it being Sunday - guess I have to wait to Monday - I am anxious to get to Amsterdam to line up the job and get somewhere to live. Eve stayed home sick and Gordon returned from work with asthma. 

Wednesday 7 July 1971 - 36,000 feet up  - Hot.

I am now writing in a Canadian Pacific jet leaving Canada and what a relief. I spend Monday and Tuesday trying to sort things out down down and managed to get a stand-by ticket on the flight -  I was not able to get a seat until 13th July so was willing to take the risk of being thrown off the plane -  it was nerve-wracking at Montreal airport as we stopped there for an hour while the plane filled up - luckily somebody must have missed the plane as I am still on it - I guess my luck didn't let me down again - also as luck would have it I received a letter from Vivienne today telling me what I could do about accommodation when I arrive so guess it will all work out for the best.

After a month here in Canada I was sorry to wave goodbye to Eve and Gordon - they have been very good to me even though they were sick most of the time - however I can't say I'm sorry to leave Canada - now I feel I might at last reach my destination.

Friday 9 July 1971 - Amsterdam - Hot, humid.

I am writing this from the Hotel Beethoven after 2 days in Holland - Amsterdam is surely a wonderful city and certainly prepared for the tourists - crammed with interesting little shops and street-cafes and of course the canals. It surely is a different city for me - the food here is great - such a change from Canadian food and I'm sure its more fattening here. I just can't resist all the dutch cakes - they're delicious - the beer here is better too so I've had a few because the weather has been hot and sticky - I just heard on my transistor that some workers in England have been sent home because of the heat. 

Everything here seems to be so cheap after Canada but guess they compare with home. I visited Anne Frank's house which had pictures of the persecution of the Jews in one room, man's inhumanity to man. I guess if the whole world cried it wouldn't ever make up for the terrible sins of such a short time ago.There was no mail at the post office. Unfortunately some of the old churches were either locked or being restored but visited Rembrant house (full of etchings) and had a canal ride - there is plenty of photographic interest and tomorrow I'm going on a bus tour of the old dutch windmills.

Saturday 10 July 1971 - Wiesbaden, Germany - Hot, humid.

Well, I can hardly believe that I'm actually in Wiesbaden at last. Last night at a restaurant I got to talking with an American who has already been a few months in Europe - his name is Peter and decided to come to Wiesbaden with me today - I sure am glad to the company and I think he was looking for someone to talk to as well.

The bus trip to the wind-mills was interesting and included a visit to Edam - an enchanting village which gives it name to the famous cheese. 

The train trip to Wiesbaden passed through beautiful countryside spoilt only by the blue haze - talked to 2 army guys from Frankfurt on the train - and booked in to the Luisenhof Hotel then walked around the town by night - it really is an attractive town and sure hope I still like it when Peter goes on his way - it really makes a difference having someone to talk to and generally look around town with.

Tuesday 13 July 1971 - Wiesbaden - Hot, humid.

The last 3 days have been busy to say the least - also unfortunately full of disappointment.

Sunday Peter and I walked around the town and phoned Viv's friend De, she has proved to be a good friend. She took us with two Americans (Jack and Gwen) swimming and was a pleasant day at the local pool which is surrounded with tall trees on one side and a view down on the city on the other - that night had a pleasant evening and barbeque at Jack and Gwen's place at the base. 

Monday I went down to the C.P.O. to find they hadn't received my application forms so had to type them - this took up the morning - in the afternoon they gave me the address of a job at a neighbouring air-base (Kastel) so I took a bus (1/2 an hour's trip) and had a look - it must be the worst looking air base the U.S. owns and the job entails checking in and out all the air-force surplus material (commonly called junk) and collecting some in a huge yard and the rest piled outside for auction - the boss of the section (a Pole) seemed an agreeable sort but the place was certainly depressing. 

That night I called De and she invited us out to talk it over - apparently she knew a guy who worked there for a short while and didn't like it at all. De is staying in her boyfriend's apartment - it is fitted out with every luxury and De gave us a great tea. 

Today I went back to C.P.O. and told them I would prefer if they could offer me another alternative so they have this job at a receiving depot - I haven't seen it yet but it sounds the same as the other job except for handling the stuff coming in instead of out. I suggested the American T.V. station in Frankfurt so they gave me the address and Peter and I made the trip this afternoon.

Unfortunately they have no positions at the moment but were interested in me and like the reference I had. They suggested I go next door to the German T.V. station but they weren't interested unless I learnt German. The language barrier is more of a problem than I thought it would be but guess I thought I would be stepping straight into the job I originally wanted at Aukamm School. Also it is difficult to make some decision as Viv is in France or Spain somewhere and I don't know now whether she intends to stay in the job or not.

I will have to do something soon as I noticed my money is going down now I am staying in Hotels. 

Friday 16 July 1971 - Wiesbaden - Warm, fine, cloudy.

It has been three days since my last entry - fortunately things have improved since the initial disappointment and I have been busy having medicals, visas, bank accounts etc. The C.P.O. ended up offering me a temporary position at the horrible Kastel Air Base but will stick this one out as I hope to get into the school when Viv returns. The pay is shocking - Aus $232 per month but fortunately they have put me into the barracks which will be very cheap and so will the meals - I have been assured the meals are good - also I will be able to catch the air-force bus to work.

Naturally the accommodation and tax has to come out of the $232 so I shudder to think what I'll end up getting. I believe the money will improve when I get into the school, (it sure would need to). I'm beginning to wonder just how I will live on the money. Peter went on his way this morning - he was company but I must say I wasn't sorry to see him go as he wasn't really cheerful and saw so much wrong with everything - anyhow he has promised to help me if I ever want an entry permit for the U.S.. 

Went to pictures with De, Jack and Gwen on Tuesday night at the air-base - they sure are pleasant company.

Wednesday 21 July 1971 - Wiesbaden - Barracks. Warm, overcast.

I am writing now from the barracks in Biebrich. They have turned out to be worse than I could have possibly imagined. The U.S. guys live on one end and the civilians (thats me) live the other - unfortunately there are all but one or two Italians and Spaniards living here so communication is hopeless, also we are not allowed to enter the other end of the barracks so I am stuck in a room with 3 other old men whom I don't know what they are - naturally I'm here as seldom as possible.

I have been here 5 days now and am just so glad that I have been able through my friend De to arrange 4 weeks accommodation in the flat next to her in Richard Wagner Strasse - a beautiful area Aus$70 per month which should leave me Aus$20 per week for food etc but as long as I can make it I would prefer it to the place I'm in now.

Here it is impossible to really live as I am accustomed. For a start you can't leave anything outside your locker or it will be stolen, the floors and windows are dirty and the toilets leak onto the floor. But for the fact that we change our bed linen once a week and it is clean, I couldn't continue on here - as it is I am moving out tomorrow night and it can't come soon enough. 

Saturday I felt disillusioned with the whole deal and felt like walking out on it all and maybe trying for work in England but knowing their problems with unemployment made me realize I could be worse off than before. I was walking through town on Saturday night when I came across this huge hall where a big wrestling match was about to take place - I never imagined that I would ever actually pay to go and see a wrestling match but went inside and all the noise and excitement cheered me up. 

Sunday 18 July 1971 previous

On Sunday I went for a river trip up the famous Rhine river valley. It was a pleasant change but really not as pretty as the Williams or Paterson valleys in good old Australia. For a start the water was a dirty brown colour (obviously polluted) and the shores were mainly rock - covered to prevent erosion - there were a huge number of vessels, barges, etc using it as a water highway. 

The further down we travelled the prettier it became as the grape vines appeared and old castles began to dot the landscape. I went as far as the tourist town of Rhudeseim which being a Sunday was packed with tourists - there is something about a tourist that I detest - even though I am one I guess - loaded with camera, sunglasses, binoculars, overcoat, ice-cream, pop bottle and souvenirs they present an awful sight especially when massed together pushing and shoving to be the first to get on or off or in or out of wherever. 

Monday 19 July 1971 previous

On Monday there were more papers to sign and on Tuesday I actually started my temporary job at Kastel air-station. It has turned out to be as boring as anticipated - writing numbers and figures on bits of paper that all don't mean a thing to me. I'm sure the air-force will suffer as long as I remain in that job.

I had some time off today to get my visa in town and used the time also to pay a visit to the local T.V. only to find the language barrier stopping employment once more. However, the interviewer suggested me writing to the British embassy and finding out about employment in British television.

Friday 21 July 1971 - Wiesbaden - Warm, overcast.

Its just so great to have my own place at last - it really is beautiful just as long as I can afford it. I have my own shower and toilette plus a kitchenette. A comfortable bed, a lounge, plenty of cupboard space and tables plus a huge picture window make life almost complete. All I have to do now is get some food for the cupboards plus a few cheap cooking utensils and I should be set up for a while anyway. 

Saturday 31 July 1971 - Wiesbaden - Warm, humid.

Well its a week since my last entry. Last weekend was spent with Jack and Gwen - it was very pleasant - we had a barbeque, listened to music,read Rod McKuens poems, went swimming, driving and the pictures - I don't really know how I'll begin to repay them for their generosity.

Last week was the longest I've ever worked. After television, sorting and filing papers sure is dull - I've developed into a real clock-watcher. It sure has helped me to realise the importance of an interesting job. I start at 1/4 to 8 after getting up at 6.am and 40 minutes ride in the bus peak hour. One hour for lunch at the U.S. canteen where I get a hamburger or a sandwich and a drink for 50 cents then work to 5pm.Luckily the shops stay open here to 6.30 so have stocked up my fridge and cupboards with food so won't starve for a while.

Thursday (20th July 1971)

De's parents, Mr and Mrs Nicholls arrived from Australia - they hadn't slept for 2 days and had miss-placed one of their small bags. I brought some food across (as they are with De next door at the moment) and with some help from Mrs Nicholls cooked the tea for them. It was great to talk to someone from home. 

Last night Viv arrived back from her holidays. She was difficult to recognise at first with her blonded white streaked hair and her pale and thin appearance - certainly different from when I knew her some four years ago. Naturally she has become very independent and self-assured. We couldn't talk much about the job at the school as De, Mr and Mrs Nicholls, Jack and Gwen were all there. However, I gathered she wants to stay in the job 'till October then go to the States.

Philliys, her boss, arrives back from the States this weekend so hope we will sort something out soon as things are still up in the air as far as I'm concerned. 

Saturday 7 August 1971 - Wiesbaden - Overcast - rain.

It is a week since my last entry and I'm still unsure what is likely to happen on Monday when I'm going to try to convince about 5 different officials - naturally scattered all over the area that I would like to transfer to Viv's job. The latest is that I should continue on at Kastel until my temporary appointment time expires which is rubbish as far as I'm concerned. If they don't come my way on Monday then I'm telling them I'll have to resign because I would be spending my time more profitably than in having to put in 9 hours each day at Kastel. 

Viv's boss  Philliys was married during her holidays. both she and her husband are very nice people and know I'd like working for her. Viv has been sick and confined to bed for the last 3 days. She has low blood pressure and her heart rate is too fast - I guess its a reaction from her trip - she sure didn't look too well when she got back. Although she doesn't want to leave till October she has been very good and will probably work for a few weeks for me while I have a break. This should work out ok for both our plans. De's boyfriend Ridge who is in the next apartment returned home - we get on well and have been to the pictures and had a night with his electric piano, it sure is a fantastic instrument. 

Saturday 14 August 1971 - Wiesbaden, Germany - Fine, warm.

This week I completed my job at Kastel air-station after almost a month - I couldn't really say I am sorry as the work sure didn't appeal to me. I'm hitch-hiking to England on Monday for 3 weeks - I hope to see some friends in London and Pat and her parents in Dorset. I may even be able to see what the job situation is like. After three weeks I'll return to the job in the school.

Last weekend I hitch-hiked to Koblenz on the Rhein and Mosel rivers - it took 5 rides to get there and back - a pretty drive alongside the Rhine river and vineyards. It was interesting to stay in my first youth hostel -  it was an old fortress and fascinating looking over the town of Koblenz between the junction of the Rhine and Mosel rivers. 

Monday 16 August 1971 - Heidesheim Youth Hostel - Warm, sunny.

I am writing from Heidesheim youth hostel just out of Mainz - it is beautiful here just off the main road set in a thick forest alive with rabbits. There are 28 beds in my room but I'm the only one here - it certainly is a beautiful change to be out of the city and all the problems associated. I went for a walk through the forest as the sun was setting and through groves of plum trees laden with fruit - then I just sat down and watched the sun go down over the Rhein valley.

Friday 20th August 1971 - London - Overcast, raining.

I am writing from a flat in Eastham, London after a few hectic days. It took 10 rides to get to Oostend on the Belgium coast - I stayed the second night at Antwerp Youth Hostel - that day sure was a hectic one trying to get as close to the coast as possible. I was stopped from hitch-hiking twice by the German police who kick you off the autobahns but turn a blind eye to you if you're on one of the approaches. 

After the second time I was stopped I started walking towards the next town, I came across this Belgian couple whose car had broken down - I helped push start the car and we headed down the road - it wasn't long before we could smell something burning - we were out of oil and water - I hitched into the next town but couldn't make the driver understand that I wanted to go to a garage to get oil so I came back with water - when we got back the guy saw what I had meant so after we got to a garage in the next town he drove us all to Antwerp for D.M.50 which the owner of the busted car paid for - he also bought us all beers - he and his wife are very nice people - there was a slight language problem as he and his wife were Flemish speaking, the driver German and me English. 

It was about 10.30 at night and he and his wife put me on a taxi asking the driver to take me to the Yugenherbergen (German for Youth Hostel). I arrived just in time before closing and must have got the last bed. The next day I hitched with an Irish guy to Oostend - we walked round the town and lay on the beach - the water was a brown colour and the sand was far from white but it was wonderful to see and smell the sea again after such a long time - I really enjoyed the crossing, there was a strong wind blowing fresh of the channel and I was so excited at the prospect of getting to England for the first time. 

I met up with an American college student who took each others pictures with the white cliffs of Dover mistily in the background. 

From there a quick trip to Victoria street station, London passing through green fields and grazing sheep. I rang Sue Ridley as soon as I arrived but found she had left for Australia last month. I was having trouble using the phone so asked these young people if they could help me - the next thing they were ringing up the youth hostels and YMCA's for me - they were all full up and it was getting late so Lorenzo, an Italian offered a bed in his friends place - they have been wonderful. 

The next day I rang Pat and said I would be down in a few days, and spent the rest of the morning making phone calls to record companies and T.V. stations only to receive the same answer every time - they have a waiting list a mile long and wouldn't even consider interviewing me or allowing me to fill in an application form - however some said I could write in my qualifications but not to hope for anything. 

I went into town and visited an employment agency - apparently these agencies mainly handle clerical jobs and I want to try to avoid them if possible - they said specialised work like that which I'm qualified for would be hard to get. 
I visited Australia House but got the same attitude from them - they said University graduates were after the same jobs I would be going for (clerical assistant) worth 18 pounds per week.

I spent many hours looking over the huge St. Pauls Cathedral crowded with tourists. I visited the crypt and saw Wren's simple tomb with the inscription Dad has told me about so often, "Friend, if you seek a monument - look around you;" and what a magnificent place to lie amongst some of England's finest people - it makes you realise what a wonderful heritage the English have - its all made me feel very insignificant, especially Wellingtons funeral chariot which weighs 18 tons, completed in 18 days by 100 men and made from guns captured at the battle of Waterloo - awe inspiring!

I walked to the whispering gallery (couldn't hear anyone whispering) and then to the top of St.Pauls - my knees were giving way coming down - quite a distance, must have been about 400 steps. I stayed for the service but was spoilt by the noise of the tourists moving around. I walked down Fleet Street, the Strand, Trafalgar Square, Whitehall and Victoria Street, caught the tube back to Eastham and watched T.V. - on the news they said the unemployment was the worst in Great Britain since 1939 so it was not surprising to me after all the cold shoulders I received. 

Friday 20 August 1971 - London - rain.

It rained all day Friday so Lorenzo and I talked all day and listened to Hank's records. Friday night we had Anne, Tina and Wendy plus and Indonesian friend of Lorenzo's (Swanny) over to tea. Swanny suggested me getting employment in a hospital as a porter - she is a nurse.

We all had a great day on Saturday although it was cold and dark all day. We visited the Tower of London - the Crown Jewels were more spectacular than I could ever have imagined - they almost had a hypnotic effect on me as I gazed into those dazzling diamonds. The Star of India (or was it Africa) along must be worth a fabulous amount - let alone the Koh-I-Noor and all the rest of the jewels. The huge size of the legendary ravens impressed me - Lorenzo began teasing one of the ugly brutes until he was stopped by an irate German tourist.. 

We all walked over the old Tower Bridge and back and then had a meal in Regent Street. I had roast beef and baked potatoes which Anne insisted on paying for. We explored the noisy but surprisingly small Carnaby Steet - I think there were more souvenir type shops than clothes shops. 
On Sunday Anne and I went for a walk through one of London's natural parks - it was beautiful, graceful trees meeting over the paths with lakes complete with children fishing - I at some blackberries. Hank and friend arrived home - he was understanding about me being there and invited me to stay there for a day or two on my next trip through London. 

We went to the theatre club Sunday night to see "The Best Days of Our Lives" (a 40's film). For a 25 year old film it was excellent. 

Monday 23 August 1971 - Cattistock, Dorset, England. - Fine, overcast.

Monday - (today) I caught the train from Waterloo Station to Dorchester and hitched out to here to Cattistock and cousin's Pat's place. Pat's mum, who had been ill for some time passed away yesterday however Pat and her sister Ros and Cuthbert seem to be exceptionally cheerful - perhaps it hasn't hit them yet.

The funeral is on Wednesday so will probably get to meet more of the family. Pat asked if I wouldn play the organ but had to refuse. Pat and I drove to see if this friend of hers would play - the countryside of Dorset is incredibly beautiful - gentle hills broken up by winding hedges, clumps of trees and multi-coloured fields - every few miles you come across a little village with quaint old thatched cottages and maybe an old stone church.

Wednesday 25 August 1971 - Cattistock, Dorset - Fine, warm, clear.

After a week in England today was warm with a clear blue sky. It was Vi's funeral today. If there is such a thing, it was a wonderful funeral - just as Vi would have wished, I'm sure - everyone was quite cheerful - no one wore somber clothes and the service was short and sweet with really bright hymns. Pat and Cuthbert were determined to carry out Vi's request that there should be a minimum of fuss and unhappiness. Vi must have been a wonderful person. I haven't yet seen an actual tear shed. 

Pat's sisters and their children have been here so it has been interesting for me to see this far side of the family. I must say that I feel really relaxed and at home here for the first time in months - it makes me realise the value of family life and the need to have some firm basis home-wise. 

Wednesday 1 September 1971 - Cattistock, Dorset. Drizzle.

A relaxing week since my last entry - have had Pat's sister Diana here with her children, Giles and Sophia - she left today - is an exceptionally bright person but different in the way that she is very upright and serious and yet always ready for a hearty laugh - all the same I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of her. The children are very well behaved - her husband (John) could help me gain employment - he has a friend in the BBC and could help me. 

I have gone for a few walks across the downs with cousin Cuthbert - his particular walk takes 1 1/2 hours so he must be fit as his is about 80. His mind is active also and delves into religious and political matters - no doubt at all he has a first-rate character - I admire him very much. Naturally I'm finding out about some of my relatives activities.

Cuthbert and Pat discovered that a distant cousin of mine (Irving Palmer's wife) was living in poverty in Portsmouth in a house that she had already sold 6 months previously. Irving Palmer had died some years ago and she had gone quite mad in this house with a mangy old cat. Cuthbert got her up here to live and tried to get her into several old people's homes but she wouldn't go - she is apparently ultra-class conscious and forever talked about "all those dreadful common people!" She is now in a nice home not far from here and her mangy cat is now fat and sleek. 

Both she and Irving were class-conscious. I don't think Cuthbert liked Irving very much but thought Alex (Irving's brother) was an upright man. The tragedy of Irving Palmer's marriage was that their two children were blind - Pat thinks it could be because they were related. The girl died about 40 but son Michael is still living and working for some industry for the blind in London. Apparently the children were pretty well neglected - the parents didn't want to recognise the fact of their blindness. 

Tonight Pat produced on old but beautifully preserved leather drug case that belonged to Mansergh Palmer (my grandfather's brother) who was a well respected doctor in Armargh, Ireland. The hospital at which he worked presented it to Pat on her last visit to Ireland - also there was a plaque to his memory for saving many lives in a train disaster (Gillingham Train Crash).

Cuthbert tells me he was a man of outstanding character but very strict - definitely one of the "landed gentry" he used to dress up in top hat and tails on Sundays and walk quite a distance to church and would then return and conduct a service for the servants. 

Interestingly he had no time for any of his daughters. His sons, Alex, Edwin and Irving all went into the navy and did well. Cuthbert criticises Irving for staying in the Navy when he could have retired and made some life for he and his wife but must have been career conscious - very cold too. 

I have yet to meet Alex's children, Joe Palmer in Kent and Shiela Palmer in Ireland - both divorced so heaven knows what they'll be like. Jimmy (Pat's brother and their cousin) is going through a divorce case at the moment - Cuthbert doesn't like Jimmy's wife Dora.." I think Pat has the horrors when daddy says such things. I was amused at Pat when we were talking about the first moon landings in space on the television - Pat thought it all quite incredible and said that it "nearly sent us all quite mad watching it!". 

I bought £38 winter coat in Dorchester the other day so can't afford to lose it but don't mind paying for it because I'm such a fanatic about the cold weather. It is very warm, made of real skins and imitation fur lining inside. Both Cuthbert and Pat have an intense dislike for T.V. Cuthbert calls it "that damned infernal box" and both criticise the programmes which I must admit aren't as good or at least as varied as Australian programmes - the news is really quite and ordeal to sit through as it is pretty gloomy at the moment, what with all the senseless violence in Ireland and all the strikes and unemployment here in England which seem to predominate the news every night. 

Monday 6 September 1971 - Wiesbaden, Germany. Fine, warm.

Back now in Wiesbaden and in my own flat - it was surprising how everything here looked so modern and better after England - no doubt the Germans are better off than the English - I seemed to get the impression that things are at a standstill in U.K. compared with all the development and action going on here.

The news in U.K. was always depressing, with the same old problems being faced every day. Maybe I was unlucky but the food was definitely not so good as here in Germany and certainly not cheap - prices must have gone up a tremendous amount in recent years. 

Looking back at my stay at Pat's home every day I seemed to spend going from one meal to the next - I was 9st.12lb when I first reached London but after 2 weeks in Pat's I put on a stone but guess I was underweight. It certainly was relaxing at Pats. It was a real opportunity for me to unwind as I was getting a little anxious as to what to do but see things in a much clearer perspective now. 

I went to London for an interview - it was an audio recording job with the "British Council" but seemed pretty boring - if I want the job I have to go for another interview in a month and even if I get the job would not start until next year. 

Spent the last few days in U.K. at Pat's sister's place (Diana) in Thame near Oxford. Thames is a beautiful quaint old town but didn't get to see Oxford. They have a 17th century home - lovely garden and tennis court plus a piano which I bashed well and truly. 

So far the BBC T.V. job seems fairly distant. Start the job in Aukamm School tomorrow - today was an American holiday.

 
Sunday 12 September 1971 - Wiesbaden - Overcast mild.

As usual life is never dull for me - it has been quite a traumatic week for me and ended in my resignation from the school job. By the end of the week I was pretty depressed and didn't really like the job and felt because I wasn't really interested I'd never do the job justice. I felt obligated to do this as Viv handled the job so well and all I could see that I was going to let everyone down anyway, so the sooner the better.

On Friday morning my landlady was upset because I made too much noise in the night before and she couldn't sleep so went to work feeling that was the last straw - all I felt was that things had built up so much that the only way was out no-matter how much it hurt everyone. 

I told Viv and Phyllis I was leaving as soon as I got to work and naturally Viv was not pleased with me but I know she couldn't possibly know that strain I was under at the time. I had let things build up too much which is, I'm afraid, a fault of mine which has happened before and will happen again as I feel I have no control that way and realise that I don't have the strength or will-power of most men which I get depressed to that extent. 

All I know was by Friday I felt so numb from head to foot I was just useless. I know things have been building up for months and hope now I can make a fresh start with a more open outlook.

I feel my main trouble now is that I tend too much to worry about myself and don't have anyone else to consider or have to just plain talk to who thinks along similar lines to myself. I suppose its especially difficult when I have known such a wonderful life with such a loving family. I realise that eventually I must return to my family and the life I am acclimatised to and build up some kind of life of my own.

BOOK TWO

Joe Palmer - September 1971

Tuesday 21 September 1971 - Wiesbaden, Germany

Well, its late at night and I'm just about to leave Germany after 2 ½ months here - quite a hectic few months too - although there were disappointments there certainly were some tremendous highlights and I'm sure the experiences I've had here will stand me in good stead for the future.

Last week was spent tying up affairs here in Wiesbaden and generally relaxing - also I had the first of two cholera shots as I intended heading towards Italy and Spain last weekend.

Although not feeling the best on Friday I caught the train to Munich to visit the beer festival going on there at the moment - I arrived just on sunset and couldn't get into the youth hostel as it was full - also tried the hotels but Munich was packed with people and couldn't get in anywhere.

I caught a tram intending to stay on it as long as possible and maybe get into a hotel out of the city area but they turned out to be full also. I was just about to head for the station with the intention of sitting up there for the night when and American guy approached me and said he was lost and looking for the camping area.

Although I didn't have a sleeping bag I felt pretty desperate so headed off with him to find the camping grounds. After getting the right bus and walking a mile to the camping area he suggested I jump the fence to avoid paying and go from tent to tent asking if someone could have room for me.

I did this although I felt pretty low about asking at first but realised I didn't have much choice and certainly couldn't sit out in the cold. 

Some English fellows ended up taking me in - they were a pretty wild lot but looked good to me and I was certainly grateful. We all headed off for the famous beer halls where the atmosphere was tremendous - people linking arms and singing, crashing beer steins together often to the accompaniment of a huge Bavarian woman yodelling her head off into a microphone . 

Naturally, there were the typical Bavarian brass bands blaring away in the deafening noise of the rowdy fun-lovers. I got to talk with a lot of Aussies and glad to hear how proud they are of our country. I felt really stirred up with pride when the band played "Waltzing Matilda" with all the Aussies singing. I've met so many Americans in the last few months who just don't have any pride in their country - I guess the U.S. has its fair share of problems now but there must be a lot of good things in America of which to be proud. 

I met up with Viv twice who was with some teachers for the weekend - we seemed to get on a lot better after the upset of the resignation.

On Sunday was the best parade I've ever seen. It must be one of the best in the world and certainly the most colourful - immaculate brass bands, people in national costume either marching, dancing or mabey throwing flowers. Naturally there were huge beer wagons drawn by beautiful draft-horses almost completely covered by ribbons and silver chains.

This parade alone was worth all the discomfort of sleeping on the ground - the first night was the worst as I had no sleeping bag - I put on all the clothes I had and wrapped a piece of plastic and old newspapers around me. 

It was a dreadful night and with the dawn I went straight into town and bought the most expensive sleeping-bag the shop had - unfortunately it has proved to be a bit big but is certainly warm and that's the main thing.

The next two nights I was warm although really chilly nights - on the Monday however, I felt run-down after the events of the weekend and didn't feel like pushing on so headed back here to Wiesbaden. 

After trying unsuccessfully to contact Ridge next door and Jack and Gwen I approached my former landlady, Frau Helga who gave me my old room back for the night. Today I finalized my bank account here and had the second cholera vaccination which has left my arm feeling a bit sore - I guess the first injection didn't help me to feel any better over the weekend and I had a cold even before Friday night so was a little worried but it doesn't seem to be any worse. 

I'm just about to catch the last bus to the station to catch the 2.30am train to England and Pat's place in Dorset where I'll be able to dump my bags and rest up for a while. I'm sure she and Cuthbert won't mind as we all seemed to get on pretty well on my last trip to England.

If I made all the connections I should make Dorchester station by 7 o'clock tomorrow night so guess I'll be glad of a rest - not looking forward to getting through London's underground with all my bags and hope to get some sleep before the coast.

Saturday 25 September 1971 - Guilsborough, England

This trip over from Germany turned out to be as difficult as anticipated and after 9 different changes of transportation the bags were quite impossible to say the least - I can recall struggling for only about 10 feet at a time from about ½ way along Waterloo platform, London with the train's departure imminent and not a porter in sight. I felt really bad when I reached Dorchester only to find that Pat was not there - luckily her sister Ros was, however so she came out and scraped me into her car. 

The first words Cuthbert said were, 'ring up in plenty of time next time and don't telegram.' The next day Danny (Pat's sister also there) capped it off by giving me a lecture on letting people know in plenty of time and suggested that although we like to know that you feel at home here it isn't your home and Cuthbert is an old man who I should give some consideration for - she wasn't angry but certainly gave me her honest opinion of the situation for about half an hour. 

At first I tried to explain my problems and my side of the story but gave up when it just didn't make any difference at all. She also said that I shouldn't believe that because Pat said she liked having me here it was not necessarily true - she suggested Pat was saying it just to be nice and that she really wanted peace and quiet in her own home. 

All this made me feel devastated at the time and just wished Pat was there so I could sort out a better appraisal of the situation. All I know is that Danny and Cuthbert must be pretty overwrought with all the business of tying things up since Vi's death.

Joe Palmer, 2021 - A very interesting but sad story of mis-management. When I arrived at the Pound House, money was the last thing on my mind, but now that they have all passed away, I can reveal what happened. I left the Pound House in a hurry and stayed with Ros and John. There was a scene where I was interviewed by Danny, who questioned my motives at turning up at that time. Ros told me Danny thought I was after "the money".

I then realised that there must have been money but naturally I said nothing. It took me a while to realise that Danny was simply defending her father, who she obviously felt was vulnerable at that time. I don't blame her, and the next time we met at her house in Thame (40 years later), everything was fine by then.

Many years later, Pat who always corresponded with my mother, told her of the family being swindled. I naturally thought back to what I had been accused of, and felt so sad that at that time, they were conscious of the possibility of loss, but I think they were cheated by someone a lot craftier than they were.

Ros, who is very sensible and (a) good woman took me out of the situation and we are in her and John's home  in Guilsborough which is almost right in the centre of England and near Rugby (of football fame) and the industrial town of Coventry where today we visited its beautiful cathedral. 

The original cathedral was bombed during the war leaving only the outer shell and the spire remaining - however, the new cathedral has been made of the same stone and joined onto the shell. It really is ultra-modern and when you walk in you are stunned by a huge 70 x 40 foot tapestry hung over the altar with a very striking picture of Christ woven into it. 

Turning to the right there is also a huge stained glass wall of even greater dimensions over the simple font. The glass is of abstract design but appealed to me because of the way in which the colours spread out from the light yellows in the centre to the dark blues and crimsons on the perimeters. Everywhere was the feeling of simplicity which must be a wonderful achievement in such a grand cathedral.

Thursday 30 September 1971 - Guilsborough, England

Still relaxing in the quiet village of Guilsborough, Northampton county. Took the dog "Moona," an English setter for a walk a few days ago - she is a large hairy but very affectionate dog and as soon as we got out of the gate she took off with me being dragged along behind.  She took me down lanes and across wet fields before I eventually turned her head for home - I wasn't game enough to let go of her lead. 

The next day we went with David (Ros's son who attends Cambridge) who let Moona go her own way. This was a much better arrangement but the stupid dog often got lost behind thick hedges so we'd have to go back and rescue her. 

I couldn't begin to describe the beauty of the country here - above all it is so green - such a pleasure going for walks down narrow lanes bordered by hedges and graceful oaks or elms. The soil  is being ploughed over now - it must be so rich - dark and moist yet crumbly. Flocks of birds settle on the newly turned earth, no doubt finding plenty to eat. 
The other day I saw some sheep being superbly mustered by a small sheep dog.

For the most part, the houses here bear traces of green moss, especially on the thatched roofs - it is undoubtedly quite damp for most of the year here. 
Ros and John's house consists of many small cosy rooms with low ceilings and small paned glass windows. There was a freezing wind blowing when I first arrived but has become quite warm over the last few days.

John is a fine person - very Christian and upright but yet down to earth. The twin girls, Elizabeth and Janet are extremely well behaved, mainly kept well and truly in line by Ros who seems determined to bring them up into the fine women they must be some day.

Today we visited Althorp "a stately - ome," as they are called over here. We drove about  a mile from the road to the house through huge old oaks dotted over rolling hills covered by a carpet of lush green grass. We went from room to room with walls literally covered with huge oil paintings, mainly family portraits.

There were many royal and Churchill portraits which were interesting but I had to keep looking out the windows because after a while the grandeur became a little too much. I remember the guide mentioning a portrait of this King and that Queen and this and that duke etc and then casually referred to a portrait of a young lady bordered by a garland of many flowers - each flower represented one of her lovers - without thinking I exclaimed out loud "Oh my goodness!" to which a lot of surprised heads turned to scowl at the interrupter!

Saturday 2 October 1971 - Cambridge Youth Hostel. 

Cambridge surely is an interesting city - I drove here today in a hired car with David who is a student here in social science at Emmanual Colldge. 

. No doubt the highlight of our tour ofthe college today was Kings College Chapel - I'm quite sure I'll never see a church to surpass it - you tend to gasp as you walk through the door and confronted with almost an entire wall of magnificent stained glass separated only with pure cream columns of stone rising to fan out over the ceiling and meet with the corresponding fans from the other side. In fact the whole chapel (which is as huge as any cathedral) consists of the cream stone and stained glass except for the centre which divides the church in two - the centre is the organ framed with jet-black wood running to the pipes and two angels leaning out with trumpets. 

Tonight I walked back through the town to the church for an organ recital - it could only be described as beautiful especially a tender quiet piece called "Chant De May " by Joseph Jongen 1873-1953 - at least if the organist played the tunes in order then that is the correct title. It was holy sitting in the dimly lit church with such beauty all around - I felt almost mean to realise how much my mother and father would give to be there and I was the only member of our wonderful family to have the privilege.

I never realised when I embarked on this trip how many wonderful things I would see and experience and yet how unfair it makes me feel. 

I just hope I can benefit not only myself but others on my return to Australia from all my good and bad experiences. My travels certainly benefit me in gaining the realisation that I will never be able to go through life by myself - that is one of the many things that I have had to admit to myself recently - you really get to know your weaknesses but I guess out of the knowledge of these weaknesses must come the strength that is necessary to face up to life as it really is.  Dear reader please forgive my ramblling on but I must say that I've never gone from feeling so high to feeling so low so many times in my life before. The poet, Rod McKuen says somewhere "Love is all there is to life." I'm sure he's pretty close to the truth. 

Sunday 3 October 1971 - Lincoln Youth Hostel.

Quite a busy day today and saw two huge cathedrals - the first Ely and the second Peterborough. Left Cambridge with an Indian student (from India) and spent the day with him before dropping him off near his school - very nice chap who gave me a few clues about life in India - for example, have all vaccinations possible before going there and be careful where you eat - although the Indians are careful about personal hygiene, their food although tasting good is not always pure. I told him that I was probably going back to Australia via India so he was very helpful.  

I attended church at Ely cathedral - a huge building in a small town - about 100 people at the service - the rest of the nave being devoid of chairs. A beautiful choir with a boy soprano who stood out from the rest sending quivers down my spine plus a very sweet organ giving a totally tasteful performance. The other thing which impressed me about Ely was the beautiful colours of the stained glass. Most of it, I would say, quite old. The Lady Chapel had beautifully preserved stonework of the 12th century completely encircling the walls - quite a large annex being about 60ft x 100ft. Huge clear glass windows above the carved stone giving a bright appearance to the simple but effective chapel. 

We drove on through mainly flat country - reminded me a little of the Maitland flats - intensive farming - cabbages, etc. A little more industry noticeable as we approached Peterborough. The town not very interesting especially after Cambridge and the Cathedral although huge and old not as beautiful as the previous ones although they'd be hard to live up to.

I dropped my friend off and proceeded through more hilly country to Lincoln where after asking the local police, found the youth hostel - have met up with the 3 other occupants of the hostel here - one English, one American and one South African, so we are a mixed bunch - about to have (vesta?) curry and rice which is cooking up on the stove beside me.

 
Forgot to mention that I met an Australian parson who attended the service at Ely - he noticed the Perth badge on my jacket and comes from York about 60 miles east of Perth. He has invited me to stay at the rectory there if ever I'm passing through adding that he's likely to be there since he's been over here 4 months so he'll be firmly entrenched there when he returns. 

Monday 4 October 1971 - York Youth Hostel.

Travelled today with Gary, the South African who is heading north so will be with me a few days - wonderful to have company. Arrived at York at 1pm after driving through pretty dull country on narrow winding roads - plenty of villages and more intensive farming with scattered smoke stacks here and there on the horizon. As per usual very hazy. Lincoln cathedral is perched on a hill over the town as is quite a contrast to see this magnificent building rising out of such a poor looking town. 

Inside the cathedral was some beautiful stained glass but not much else that appealed to me. After a chinese meal we had a look at York minster where a lot of restoration is going on. I had the same feeling as I had in St.Pauls, London which is also undergoing a face lift - that I was not really in a church - so much noise and scaffolding. 

Even though the organ was being played (covered over with plastic and hessian) it didn't seem to give any atmosphere at all. No doubt that when the work is completed (which is costing £2 million), the minster will be restored to its former beauty. The east end of the organ has been cleaned and it really looks wonderful - underneath the blackish light coloured stone and some of the stained glass is the oldest remaining in England  - about 1150. 

The minster is really huge but really hard to say too much about it as the work going on detracted so much from its beauty. 

There are many narrow streets here which are not so good while driving but interesting to look on foot. I wandered into a music store which had a huge selection of sheet music albums - I miss my music. 

When we found the youth hostel, to my joy stuck in a dark corner was a piano so I immediately rattled out a few choruses of "Roll out the Barrel" and such tunes  - half the notes didn't work and it was terribly out of tune but it was a piano. We bought some tins of soup, meat and vegs and pudding which cost us about 30 Aussic cents and tasted pretty good.

Tuesday 5 October 1971 - Edinburgh Youth Hostel

Drove all day today through fairly flat to light hills until we reached the Scottish border where there was a noticeable change of scenery - the hills became more rugged and dry looking and steep cliffs began to rise from the sea's edge. We stopped before the border at Durham and Newcastle.

 
At Durham we drove round tiny, quaint streets running up and down and across the river which winds through the pretty town. The cathedral is situated on the banks of the river and appears huge from the outside but everything is so thick inside and sturdy looking that it seems to diminish it size. The organ was spread on both sides of the church and a supplementary set of small pipes was visible beside the old so guess it would sound beautiful. 

At Newcastle we stocked up on a few groceries and I bought a thermos flask for about A.80c which happened to be on special at the time. We had a light meal and everywhere we went we met friendly people. It was surprising to hear a different accent only 100 miles from York. The accent was definitely more Scottish than English and I began to feel excited that I was heading into what might turn out to be a new and friendly country. 

Wednesday 6 October 1971 - Edinburgh Youth Hostel.

Edinburgh, capital of Scotland is a pleasant and interesting city, the first impression is one of openness as you walk along Princes Street in the "New Town" and look across the valley to the "Old Town" of which the crowning glory is the rugged castle built on a mound of sheer cliffs.

The famous "tattoo" is held in the forecourt of the castle annually and after watching it on television in Australia, I was surprised to find that the ground had quite a slope to it which would make the events even more spectacular to the naked eye. 

The castle fortress itself is a truly ruggered affair with the natural rock protruding here and there from the foundations.

The Scottish Crown Jewels are on display but are no comparison with the British in the Tower of London. There was a war memorial which was supposed to be one of the finest examples of architecture in Europe but I'm afraid left me rather cold - I guess the roaring cold wind up there didn't help either.

I did like the quaint church  - St.Catherine's, which is the oldest remaining church in all Scotland - very thick walls with narrow windows - it seats about 20 people so was quite a contrast to see after all the big cathedrals. 

In the afternoon we clmbed Nelson's monument which is in the shape of a lighthouse and which provided us with another splendid view of the city and surrounding hills. We had a guided tour of Holyrood House, decorated by Queen Victoria and used occasionally by the present Royal Family.

Queen Victoria had several rooms lined with huge tapestries - mostly flemish, which our guide told us took 1 year for one person to make 1 square yard - some would be at least 8 x 5. There was an interesting piece of cloth woven by Mary,  Queen of Scots depicting a cat and a mouse - the cat having a crown on its head - the cat is said to represent Queen Elizabeth and the mouse Mary so she must have had quite a sense of humour. I'll try to recreate it as it really appealed to me (sketch)

The buildings is the scene of some pretty horrible murders as well and as the guide told us of one period of time when something terrible seemed to happen every 6 months, it makes one wonder how hard those days must have been. We saw a glass object ladies used to carry with them to catch tears so as not to spoil their thick make-up - no doubt they would have been very necessary in those days.
Despite the blustery wind today, the city somehow has a warm atmosphere about it and I feel more relaxed now than I have felt in a long time.

We have been doing the right thing in Scotland and had porridge for breakfast and haggis (which was delicious) for lunch. We bought some delicious shortbread biscuits but tonight broke the tradition by cooking an omelette. I cooked it and really impressed Gary who thought it was delicious. It wasn't too bad but guess being hungry helps. Gary has turned out to be a friendly companion for me and it is interesting for us both to find out about each other's country. 

Thursday 7 October 1971

Leaving Edinburgh this morning we crossed the slender suspension bridge spanning the Firth of Forth - quite a thrill as it must be a mile long and so high from the water. From there we sped through green hills dotted with friesian cows or sheep - the mountains on the skyline becoming more rugged and at times even looking a little like Australia. 

We stopped briefly at Perth where I took a picture of an old bridge spanning a sparkling river rushing over rocks right the way across. There was a fisherman there and could see the reason why he braved the cold stream when a fish about 2 feet long jumped out of the water just down from his spot.

 
From Perth we headed to what we thought was Dundee but after about 30 miles down the road, we realised that we were heading in the wrong direction so we took a detour on a different road to Dundee which all proved to be worthwhile as we passed through beautiful country - mainly very hilly, sometimes wooded with yellowing trees or pines and at times covered only by brownish or golden bracken with tiny streams trickling over boulders in the valleys. 

Dundee didn't appeal to us so we pushed on to Aberdeen under overcast sky. We followed an unspectacular coastline all the way broken a few times by small seaports. In some of these towns we lost our way  but were directed back by a friendly policeman. No doubt the police here are a first class type - the force really must attract a different type of person - no big-timers or ruffians and really anxious to help. I must admit that I wouldn't mind joining the police force in Australia if the men were of this type. 

In Aberdeen we stopped and asked directions from two middle aged ladies - Gary asked for Queen St when he should have asked for Queens Road - the ladies said they were going to Queens St and would like a lift. We were just getting them in the car when we realised it was Queens Road we wanted so they didn't ride with us even though I asked them to. It just goes to show how trusting and friendly everyone is in Scotland.

Friday 8 October 1971 - Aberdeen Youth Hostel

After scrubbing the floor of the youth hostel kitchen Gary and I walked down Aberdeen's main street and found ourselves on the beach - the tide was out and the beach deserted except for a group of men about 50 years old in swimmers playing soccer on the sand - they certainly must be hardy these Scots as I felt the water and was quite cool - guess it would be even colder out a bit further. 

The North Sea was very flat today. We walked across the wet sand towards the harbour and were greeted by screeching gulls and fish stench - a typical fishing harbour, filthy dirty both in and out of the water, cluttered foreshores of ramshackle buildings but in spite of it all such a romantic place - you could just imagine all kinds of smuggling activities and such like going on. 

Aberdeen has many fine shops - I couldn't resist buying a mohair poncho for Prim - it looked just the thing she would look good in. We wandered through a shop selling all kinds of Scottish tartans etc so I managed to find some Mackenzie colours and bought a scarf and a tie for Dara and Stan. The lady said it was difficult to get a MacLeod tartan as they had to be specially made and did not have any Ferguson material either.

Tonight some Canadian girls from Halifax cooked us a 'down home' meal of chowder which was kind of stew consisting of all types of fish that they had bought at the market, pototoes, onions, butter and milk - all delicious. There is a piano here too and I'm making good use of it. I think I'll go downstairs now and have a bash.

Saturday 9 October 1971 - Cullen, Scotland.

Tonight I am sitting in a cosy stone cottage by the sea near Inverness owned by Commander Hay (R.N.,Retired) and Mrs Hay who is a sister of cousin Ros's husband. Cullen is a fishing village typical of many such villages dotted along this edge of the North Sea coastline. Most of the stone cottages look the same but have a kind of rugged charm with their chimneys and often gables.

After lunch Cmdr and Mrs Hay took us to see the old mansion of the family who originally owned all the land here. It is about a mile from the sea set in a valley covered in pretty trees and a jungle of rhododendrons and brooms etc which must be magnificent in the spring. The church is close to the mansion and I was intrigued to see a raised section, somehting like a dress circle in a cinema where the family of the mansion would sit high above the mere peasants below - no wonder there was class distinction in those days! - from memory it was even higher than the pulpit so I guess the minister had to watch his p's and q's. 

From there we drove along the coast past fishing villages to Buckie where there were dozens of brightly coloured fishing trawlers tied up in the harbour. 

Back at Cullen beach we walked along the best sand I've seen since leaving Aussie - not that I've seen much but it was lovely sand and there was even a surf running - not that I had any intention of going in especially when Mrs Hay said that its even very cold in the summer. 

There was a golf course beside the beach - apparently golf is a very popular sport here with practically every town having a course and its cheap to play - in England its more expensive. 

Tonight the Hays had to go out so Gary and I bought some "home-grown" fish for tea and a sausage like thing called a white pudding - very filling. We walked down to the harbour - a cold wind blowing, dark and deserted. I walked out to the end of the breakwater to the friendliness of a floating beacon - for some reason I felt relaxed and warm.

Sunday 10 October 1971 - Oban Youth Hostel. 

 A long drive today through steep mountains and past rain swept lochs. Yes it rained most of the way with strong cold winds but it certainly gave atmosphere to the rugged Scottish countryside. Great white capped waves were washing ashore in parts of Loch Ness and it would be easy to imagine a monster rising up out of the black surging waters. 

Loch Ness turned out to be about 30 miles long and we travelled beside it most of the way. Soon the streams of water were gushing down the mountain slopes out of the mist above. In parts the steams were clearly in flood. We stopped by an ancient ruined castle set on an island just off the shore in one of the lochs. It looked cold and foreboding and yet still proudly standing, defying the elements of time. I thought of those hardy people who lived through such hard times.

Monday 11 October 1971 - Glangow Youth Hostel.

Feeling pretty tired right now as I sit in a semi-dark room in Glascow youth hostel - my friend Gary is sitting on the next bed writing letters. We passed some beautiful mountains today - bare of trees rising into the clouds and mist above. There was intermittent rain today and tiny streams gushed down the mountain slopes forming waterfalls and splashing over the boulders in their path. 
The lochs looked quieter today as there wasn't such a strong wind.

Very winding roads to Glascow - about 3.30pm when we arrived and walked round part of the town - plenty of people bustling around but a cold wind and not a pretty town from what we could see. Gary picked up his mail at the Post Office and I had my watch repaired, the second hand had dropped off but cost only 20 cents. 

Feeling a little depressed but it was a hard drive and Gary picking up his mail made me realise that I haven't heard from home for about a month so guess I feel a little homesick. It may seem strange but after four months I still feel very close (if not closer) to my family - I'm sure I'll always fell this way no matter where I am or what I do. 

Last night a girl gave us some left over potatoes and we bought some real fresh meat today so if we go and do some cooking it might cheer us both up. The fellow in the bed next to me last night was sick about ½ dozen times so hope he doesn't have anything contagious. 

Tuesday 12 October 1971 - Glascow Youth Hostel. 

Today started off warm and sunny but ended fairly cold. In town I bought some tartan scarfs and ties for my sisters and their husbands and bought what I think is a beautiful Wedgwood brooch for mum - its going registered mail so heres hoping it gets to her OK. It sure is a long overdue birthday present for her. Sometimes it seems superfluous to buy my mum anything because she deserves more than any earthly gift I could think of. But I guess all gifts are just tokens of affection anyway.

The people here have the strongest Scottish accent that I've heard so far - several times I've had to ask them to repeat what they've said and just passing by people in the street talking sounds like another language. Its no wonder Mrs Jewell retains her accent after so many years in Australia as she came from here. 

We walked to the Clyde - not a pretty river - brown with rubbish on its banks. Although the city here isn't beautiful and not much for the tourist somehow I didn't feel depressed - maybe because I realise that Newcastle for example is not an attractive city in itself for the tourist but I like it because my home is there. 

We went into an Australian immigration centre today - there's no doubt its a wonderful country even generously allowing for the glossy and over-rated brochures.

Wednesday 13 Oct 1971 - Windermere Youth Hostel

Now at a spotlessly clean hostel on a hill overlooking beautiful Lake WIndermere. Beside me a young man with long hair is singing and playing his guitar - he sounds Dutch but is singing in English.

It is very relaxing here after the drive from Glascow today. A cold night last night. Just getting into bed last night I was shocked to hear the Australian fellow who was in the next bed ask his friend if he wanted some acid. He didn't speak softly enough so I'm sure I wasn't the only one who heard him. Its not as if I am a stranger to the world of drugs as I've heard plenty of kids in the Youth Hostels - especially the Americans talking about drugs - its just the first time I ever heard someone offering another drugs, perhaps that is what made the fellow in Oban Hostel so sick the other night - he did have a dreadfully sick appearance about him but I just put it down to improper diet at the time.

This morning I dropped off my friend Gary at the bus station in Glasgow. He was great company but must admit I wasn't sorry about him going. A week together was just fine but I could see trouble looming if we had stayed together. It makes me realise that I made the right decision after all to come on my own over here.

I stopped off at Gretna Green for pie and chips and a tourist shot of the legendary blacksmiths shop before crossing the border back in to merry England. After some disinteresting towns I found myself in the Lake District. But for seeing the border signs I would have thought Iwas back in Scotland - tall, bare mountains and tranquil (this time) lakes.

 
The big difference here is the beautifully lush farming going on in the valleys. I guess David Attwood summed up the difference between Scotland and England when he remarked that you rarely lose sight of a house in England where as you certainly can in Scotland. 

Just took a picture of the sunset - a lovely sunset for this time of the year, also for England for that matter. Its cold outside but so warm here. Now for some Irish stew.

Thursday 14 October 1971 - Guilsborough, England.

A comparatively quick trip down the M.6 motorway today back to Ros and John's to pick up some mail - 3 welcome letters from Mum - great to hear news from home after so long.

About 100 miles of the trip today was through industrial country so I was glad to be speeding through it all on the "M" - the only trouble was that the "M" mysteriously finished in the middle of Birmingham so I had to back track and go another way - apparently the "M" isn't finished although it is shown as finished on my map. 

I rang up Pat tonight about some money I'm expecting from home - she has it OK with some more mail so will look forward to getting that when I return from Ireland. 

Yes, tomorrow I am heading to Liverpool before the car rental expires and getting a boat to Dublin. I spoke to Cuthbert over the phone about the current situaiton in Ireland and he did not want meto go but it is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to go and I'm sure its no use waiting for the Irish to settle their problems - they're taking their time. 

Friday 15 October 1971 - Liverpool

Writing now aboard the ferry to Ireland but still tied up at Liverpool. As seems usual for me its been quite a day. First a hectic drive from Guilsborough to reach Liverpool by 12.45. I reached Liverpool OK but spent 1 ½ hours trying to locate St. James St to drop the car off - I even went through the Mersey tunnel and back by mistake - that in itself was an eerie experience as the walls are half tiled with very shiny tiles - it is quite dark in the tunnel and no one has even parking lights on so whenever brake lights go on there is a bright red glow which lights up the tunnel walls. The effect is nerve-wracking when you have to image four lanes of cars speeding through at about 50 mph with brakes going on and off all the time.

I had a bit of trouble when I handed in the car - the girl gave me a 10 pence refund and I knew it should have been a lot more than that as I had paid E.£80 originally as deposit. After a time I came away with E£16.10 which goes a long way for me over here (about A$35). I located the steamship company and booked my passage to Ireland then left my luggage at Lime Street Station. 

From the time I arrived here in Liverpool it has been raining steadily with wind so it hasn't been exactly pleasant especially as I found Liverpool an ugly city - as I believe it is even in good weather. The different thing here is that most buildings and walls have been defaced and written on. This coupled with the run down old buildings and poor looking people doesn't help.

Quite a contrast is the cathedral - its half finished but is huge already - very plain architecture except for the east end and the Lady Chapel where I attended evensong. It was sung by a beautiful choir - impossible for me to sing along with, say the Magnificat or Nunc dimittis as it was sung in parts by the choir. 

The service was taken by two priests. I was the only one in the congregation - I couldn't get over it - it seemed such a waste - all I could think of all the time was why is the church so unpopular today? 

I stepped outside in  to the cold realities of Liverpool again and helped a man push start his car. After finding out train times back from Ireland I came across a tiny bar near the station - it turned out to be frequented by dock-yard workers and it wasn't long before I was ear bashed about World War II experiences by a friendly chap who showed me the way to the bus stop and offered me a place to sleep anytime I was back in Liverpool. 

It is amazing the number of friendly people I've met on my travels. It makes me realise more than ever that a person cannot stand completely alone in this world. It makes such a difference when people are open and friendly - even in the most dismal surroundings. 

Somehow I found the bus stop , got on the right bus, got off at the right place and walked in the right direction. I sure am tired enough to sleep so I'll put this chair back as far as possible and throw my sleeping bag over me - we're just moving out now.

Saturday 16 October 1971 - Dublin, Ireland.

The Irish Sea was as usual by no means calm and our fairly large vessel rolled from side to side constantly but not enough to stop me from getting a fair amount of sleep. About 2.am I got out of my sleeping bag and walked around the outside. Standing in the front of the vessel in the full force of a cold wind it wasn't long before I copped a face full of the Irish Sea - my coat drenched.

I went back in and had a shocking cup of tea, removed the coat and slept off and on 'till Dublin. Caught a bus into the terminal and spent some fruitless time (as it was 7.30am) trying to contact by phone my old T.V. friend Morgan O'Sullivan and trying to line up a rented car. 

I walked into a car rental place in town and whose voice should I hear on the radio but Morgan's. Immediately I contacted the radio station and asked them to warn Morgan of my arrival there when he went off the air at 10.am. 
I hired an almost new V.W. and duly arrived in time for a happy reunion with my old friend. Morgan, delighted to see me showed me around the Irish station  - very old equipment - 1920's - but fascinating to see a radio drama in production just like something from the 'golden days'of radio. 
Morgan works free-lance and only goes there on Saturdays to do his "Music with Morgan" hour. It just is one more example of the wonderful luck I seem to have. We went to the market and bought some of the best meat I have seen since leaving Australia and pushed our way through the crowds and traffic jams to the outskirts of town where Morgan and his wonderful wife Liz with their two little girls have a new double-storey home. 

This afternoon we shopped in a packed modern supermarket (reminiscent of Canada) and after a wonderful meal of real fillet steak and onions Morgan took me to the local pub to sample the original home-grown Guiness stout. I was honestly surprised to find that I liked it as I had heard that it is an acquired taste. Very thick and almost creamy so I couldn't drink it very fast - it made me quite sleepy and relaxed but not that heady drunken feeling at all. 

We watched the very popular "Tonight Show" and it sure reminded me of our local effort in Newcastle - the more I see of T.V. overseas, the more I think we tackled our programsin Aussie the right way in not striving for perfection but for interesting content. Both Morgan and LIz miss Aussie a lot more than I thought they would. 

Sunday 17 October 1971 - Wexford, Ireland. 

After a comfortable nights rest I met some of Morgan and Liz's friends - all very friendly and we all sat down to a huge lunch. I rang Shiela De Quincey (ex Palmer) who lives in the south of Ireland on the coast of County Cork - she sounded cheerful and friendly and has invited me to stay at her home when I pass through. Went for a walk around Bray streets - Bray is the suburb where Morgan and Liz live about 12 miles south of the city centre. Very nice setting with trees and mountains (really hills) in the background but the houses are so similar looking - all plain pastel colours and mostly joined together. 

Life seems slower moving in Ireland. For example Morgan and Liz can expect the milk to be delivered any old time of the day and there are parts of their 4 month old home which aren't finished despite repeated requests to the builders. 
Left Bray about 3pm and drove south to Wexford. On the way I picked up two young lads and they invited me into their orchard when I dropped them off so I have stocked up with apples to munch on the way. They also showed me a ruined castle so we climbed up the spiral staircase to the grassy top. 

The countryside so far very like typical English with rolling hills and hedges. In all fairness to the Irish so far nothing has struck me as being different or lets say typically Irish but I haven't seen much of the country yet and guess I've become used to the type of countryside that I raved about previously. 

Sitting now on a comfortable bed but no water till 6 in the morning as believe it or not there are water restrictions here after a fairly dry summer - I thought this kind of thing only happened in Aussie! Guess I can't complain as its costing about Aus$2½ for bed and breakfast.

Monday 18 October 1971 - Baltimore, Co. Cork, Ireland.


After writing my diary last night I went into one of the singing pubs in Wexford and heard some of the worst singing and piano playing in my life. The piano player, I'm sure, only knew 3 chords but guess everybody enjoyed themselves. No doubt Wexford had the most pubs I've seen anywhere. It sure must help the drink problem that is so bad over here. 

I am beginning to understand why this is called the "Emerald Isle" - there is such a green look about the countryside. Also, seeing what doesn't appear in the tourist photos - i.e. the dirty pavements and streets in the towns and the run-down appearance of most town buildings - there are however, narrow and interesting main streets in the smaller towns especially - the shops themselves giving a rather arcade appearance being joined one to the other and always owned by Sean O'Sullivan or some other typical Irish name. 

It rained periodically during my travels today but stopped for a visit to Blarney Castle where I dutifully kissed the Blarney Stone. Strangely enough I felt so excited and happy for the rest of the day that there must be some magic in the old stone after all. 

Made it here to Baltimore by the sea just on dark so can't report on the place as yet. The De Quincey's are quiet but exceedingly honest and good people and seem to lead a simple life despite the obvious fact that they could live well if they really wanted to. I am actually in a guest house which is separate from the house and has its own kitchen and bathroom so I am surely set up for the duration of my stay. 
There is quite a wind outside and plenty of rain beating down - a gale warning has been issued for this part of the Irish coast.

Tuesday 19 October 1971 - Killarney

This morning Shiela took me down onto the cliffs at the entrance to Baltimore Harbour. There was a strong wind blowing the waves on to the rocks and us almost over. Sheila amazed me as she nimbly hopped across the rocky cliffs - she suggested a few angles for some photos but I had great difficulty in persuading her to be in one of them. 

I was reading the auto-biography of Richard Palmer, Sheila's uncle who seems to be like her, quite a character - I could see he and his father didn't get on at all - for example his father reminded him of the blue blood in his veins and Richard would be pretty watered down by now. From what I could read, his father (Mansurgh) who was my grand-father's brother must have been tough and mighty strict with his children but guess a lot were in those days. Richard was quite a well decorated soldier of the first world war and carried, of all things, a piano around with him and enjoyed entertaining the troops. 

Sheila has such tremendous drive for her age - she must be in her sixties and she is no small time thinker. She and Roger get around the world quite a bit in their yacht and are great believers in people doing what they want to do in life. They say that the family regarded them with horror when Roger tossed in his lawyer's practice in London some 30 years ago and took up farming. They loved it and did very well so now live a life of ease while Roger designs boats when he feels like it. 

Roger (de Quincy) is quite a contrast to Sheila - he is so quiet but then he has a wonderful character and is by no means reserved in saying what he believes in. Sheila, though born in England of Irish parents took out Irish citizenship and is so proud to be Irish - she believes Cuthbert doesn't like her much because of it. 

Sheila isn't the first person I've met that thinks that there is an antagonism against them because they're Irish - it makes me wonder why? As we drove through Baltimore Sheila would stop at different people walking along the road for me to meet. Usually very simple but good looking people in poor looking clothes. After we'd spoken to one very poor looking old soul practically in rags, Sheila explained that she was actually one of the richest women in the town but hated to dress up for fear of being known to have money. She believes that to be a typical Irish trait. 

We all drove to Skibbereen for a beaut lunch of roast pork before they said goodbye and I headed on my way. They insisted on paying for it. For the rest of today I have been driving through far more interesting country than previously. The scene changes so quickly here too - one minute through green forests and farmlands, the next over barren hills with nothing but boulders broken up with stunted shrubbery or wind blown grass maybe supporting a few sheep.

Completed the famous scenic drive "Ring of Kerry" today with the company of an Australian girl who was hitch-hiking where she couldn't get a bus. We passed over mountainous country next to the ocean and inlets and through more rich farming country. She told me about her trip to England through from India by bus - it sounds fascinating. 

We arrived here in Killarney after dark and after trying a few places found this wonderfully comfortable guest house which according to the Irish Guide book should be E£1.25 only bed and breakfast so here's hoping.

Wednesday 20 October 1971 - Near Bunratty Castle. 

The guest house turned out to be as quoted so we had a luxurious night after eating hamburgers and chips plus wonderfully warming Irish coffee in town. Today we drove through the fantastic coastal scenery and went round once again with my camera. My hitchhiking friend Sherie (I think) is still with me and great company. We passed by the spot where a great part of "Ryan's Daughter" was filmed and had a Guinness in the local pub which was frequented by some of the stars and also Gregory Peck who was there visiting some of his relations. 

I got Sherie to take my photo outside the pub in the same place where Gregory Peck was standing in a photo in the pub - I believe he really is a great actor and the barmaid said he is as charming as he appears on the screen. 

We drove up into the clouds to cross Conner Pass - plenty of moss and lichens plus a few hardy sheep. As we started to come down the other side out of the clouds the view was breath-taking. We reached the quaint town of Tralee where it started to rain and didn't stop till we reached the other side of Limerick. 

We passed through rolling farming country - the sort of thing we're used to now. We are about 10 miles this side of Limerick at a farm house near Bunratty Castle - we've booked in for the 9pm banquet so I'll have a bath and get stuck into all that medieval food. 

Thursday 21 October 1971 - Cromorna - St.Josephs Guest House.

Last night's banquet turned out to be better than anything I could have anticipated. First we were greeted as "My Lord" or "My Lady" by staff dressed in medieval clothes and drank Mead, a sweet traditional wine made from honey - delicious while Irish music played in the background by a harpist and a violinist - also a choir of 10 sung from time to time for the guests. 

We entered another chamber and sat down to a tremendous 4 course feast which we mainly ate with our fingers and drank more mead and another traditional wine while the music expertly played in the background - there were fun parts too when one of the guests was dragged off to the dungeon  - gongs sounding and all in all a professional job by the organisation. I would surely recommend anyone visiting Ireland to visit Bunratty Castle for the feast. 

Today in a cool misty weather we visited the Cliffs of Moher - dropping a sheer 700 feet to the frothy ocean stretching five miles - howling wind blowing so we didn't venture too close to the edge. 

We were photographing Guaire Castle (Dun Guaire Castle, Kinvarra, County Galway) when a distinguished old lady came along the road on a horse riding side-saddle - she said she owned the castle and invited us to see it - we followed her to the stables and helped her unsaddle her horse.

The castle, although bleak from the outside could only be described as luxurious inside with period furnishings and old staircases etc still retained. We found out later she was Lady Apple (Christobel Lady Amptill) or some similar sounding name and Cherry (not Sherie as I thought earlier) tells me there was an article in the Australian Women's Weekly about her riding 700 miles in the S.W. corner of West Australia  on horseback by herself. She was telling us how much she loved Australia and all the friendly people she met. She seemed a little eccentric but who wouldn't be after living in that lonely castle all by herself. 

The overcast sky today didn't help Galway Bay to look its best but one could imagine it being beautiful with the sun going down asthe song says because of the winding shores and inlets with strips of yellow seaweed lining the shore. We outskirted the town of Galway and drove against a blustery wind through peat country - yellow orange grass and bare mountains. Piles of peat stacked up beside the road and black troughs in the fields where it has been dug out. 

We tried several farm houses to find a place to stay but without success until we found this warm house where the charming lady owner cooked up some food and has us sitting in front of a peat fire watching television. As I write I can hear the wind roaring round the house.

Friday 22 October 1971 - Dublin.

It looked cold and bleak when we stepped out of St.Josephs Guest House this morning but within half an hour the sun was shining and we had mostly blue skies all day - first stop Ashford Castle in the town of Cong (County Galway) where "The Quiet Man" was filmed. The castle is now a luxury hotel and is like a fairy tale castle with bits and pieces sticking out everywhere - battlements, creepers etc. The grounds have lovely trees and walks and all semi-surrounded by crystal clear streams and lakes. 

After this we examined the ruins of an old abbey while I was almost bowled over by an enthusiastic dog. On through valleys and past lakes surrounded by tall hills clothed with sheep - this is the Connemarra country. I patted a donkey for the camera - typical Irish country scenes such as people in simple clothes walking beside the road or on a bicycle appearing to be miles from nowhere. Plenty of signs in Gaelic which I was surprised to find has no resemblance to English in any way. 

Back to Galway and more souvenir hunting and a pint of Guinness. Cherry rang up a contact in Galway but they didn't invite her to their place so she decided to come with me as far as Kildare after which I found Morgan's place. Liz cooked me a grill and cup of tea which was welcome as the drive from coast to coast had taken a little longer than expected but now in a comfortable mattress on the floor as friends have the spare room tonight. 

I have been glad of Cherry's company and hope to see her again in London as she has friends who could help me with a place to sleep if needed in London.

Sunday 24 October 1971 - Dublin

What a night tonight! After 2 relaxing days here at Morgan's house I went into town with Morgan to do a job at the Gaiety Theatre - Morgan was to interview the actors appearing on the poetry reading show which was for charity and included such people as Peter Sellers and Peter O'Toole plus others I have seen in films. 

On the way to the theatre Morgan had to pick up a tape recorder and parked his car outside Dublin's main post office. As I was waiting in the car a man appeared and asked me to move the car saying he represented the I.R.A. (Irish Republican Army) (which is an illegal organisation). He said a protest march was coming and he advised me to move but I explained Morgan would be back soon. 

However, car loads of police arrived and following them men bearing flags and marchers following  - they stopped right in front of the car facing the post office and the man who had told me to move the car before advised the man who was about to address the crowd that he should stand on our car as I hadn't bothered to shift it. 

I was worried but the man ended up standing in the boot of the car in front and the worst that happened was kids sitting on the bonnet. The speech was ended and the crowd singing the Irish anthem by the time Morgan appeared - he seemed unperturbed about it all and forced the car through the dispersing crowds - I had been terrified as to what might happen to the car but guess you get used to these demonstrations after a time.

Back stage of the Gaiety it was exciting to be so close to all these famous actors but I couldn't help thinking how false their lives must be. Morgan interviewed Peter Sellers and he really seems to be genuine and so likeable. One couldn't help but feel relaxed after listening to him for just a minute. Peter O'Toole was brash and unco-operative and was worse the night went on and got more drink in to him. 

I even got to shake Peter Sellers hand as he was leaving. The theatre itself is a beautiful and intimate old building with lavish fittings and good acoustics - the sort of theatre you'd see on films of old-time theatre. So small looking just crammed with boxes sticking out  and different audience levels but seating 1900. It was full of Irish poetry lovers and you could tell they were hanging on every word - they surely appreciate the arts over here.

Wednesday 27 October 1971 - Dublin

Over the past few days I've been seeing some of Dublins tourist attractions, note-worthy the "Book of Kells," an 8th century religious book with beautiful symbolic paintings in it. This was in the library of the beautiful Trinity College University grounds. There were two beautiful stained glass windows in St. Patrick's Cathedral but as for Dublin remaining attractions - very ordinary, among the ordinary was Dublins famous Guinness brewery - a boring tour.

 
Morgan arranged a tour today of Ireland's one and only TV station. It is about 10 years old and has some impressive equipment but grossly over-staffed - reminiscent of A.B.C. Australia - however, staff happy and friendly to me. Fantastic O.B. unit but they only transmit approx 6 hours per day - unforgivable! 

I'm sure T. V. and radio doesn't play the essential role it does in say Austraila. It's not used as the crutch it is down under and its a far more serious medium here - more drama produced than light entertainment. 

Tonight Morgan introduced me to a friend he worked with in the A.B.C. when in Australia - Dick, who is on a Churchill scholarship and has been over mainly with B.B.C. for past 6 months. Obviously very able person, produces plays and dramas with the radio section in Sydney - his knowledge is outstanding but just to hear his well-trained voice is a pleasure in itself. He has acted, sung and written music but didn't mention or brag about any of his achievements. Naturally Dick appreciates the wealth of talent over in this part of the world as regards actors, poets and script-writers for no doubt this part of the world holds a lot for those interested in the more cultured aspects of life. 

Just listening to Dick it makes me realise how little knowledge I have about the arts. I feel such at such an inferior level because I'd like to know so much more about what is really going on around me in this field but guess I'll always be too bone lazy to ever do something about it. 

One thing I hate is wasting time - or more particularly wasting one's life away and at times like that I feel like someone who knows nothing just going nowhere and for a person who likes to have destinations or goals I just don't seem to see any or any high enough at the moment. Its funny really because although I know I don't have a high intelligence rating I can still appreciate a job such as Dick's.

For some reason I have been over-looking in self-confidence lately. I certainly don't believe in over-confidence but somehow I feel I must gain more self-confidence and possibly the only way at the moment is to actually improve myself somehow - at least its worth thinking about but for the moment perhaps I should stop raving on and get some sleep.

Thursday 28 October 1971 - Armagh.

Wrote a few letters today. Dark and dull day but Liz great company. Caught the bus up to Armagh where I'm settled into a guest house for the night after fish and chips and a guiness in one of the locals. This of course is Northern Ireland which I haven't seen in daylight yet but haven't noticed anything much different except maybe a nosey customs officer and the people I've met so far very cold and snappy. 

Anyhow, I'm glad I'm only up here for a night and a day but tomorrow it may look better - after all I couldn't really not visit the home of some of my ancestors when so close in Dublin.

 
Friday 29 October 1971 - Dublin.

My visit to Armagh turned out to be far more eventful than anything that I had anticipated. First thing I walked up the hill to the hospital where I was shown the plaque in memory of Joseph Manergh Palmer (surgeon of the hospital) who saved many lives in Ireland's worst rail disaster. 

From there to the nearby Anglican Cathedral (St.Patricks) where I found his grave-stone but couldn't see any others of interest either outside or in the church. The interior walls are lined with beautifully kept plaques and monuments and although it is quite small for a cathedral, it is a bright church possibly because of all the white walls and ceiling.  

A young man in robes came up to me to tell me of an impending service which I attended being the only one in the congregation.  The service was conducted by the Dean and the Archbishop of all Ireland, Dr. Simms.

After the service the young man, whose name is Michael Thompson, introduced me to Dr.Simms. My fears of confronting the Primate of all Ireland were soon swept away by his humble and friendly manner. He invited me to his home (The Palace) at 12.00. In the meantime I asked Michael and his friends if they knew where the Armstrongs lived at Deans Hill - their address had been given to me by Ros. Attwood. Michael and friends walked with me through the town and passed their school (The Royal School) to a lane winding through yellowing trees to an imposing mansion on the hill. 

Mrs Armstrong invited us in for coffee but unfortunately it was her aunt who was a friend of the family and she wasn't there. After a chat she drove us in to town where we looked at some of the districts local crafts such as lace-work and basket-weaving in the local museum. 

From there back to the other side of town and on to a quiet lane winding through green fields and past a ruined Francisican Friary to the huge "Palace," seat of the Archbishop. His Grace opened the door and smiling brought us into a large reception room. We were surrounded by paintings of previous Archbishops, one painted by Reynolds while Dr. Simms disappeared and returned shortly armed with a tray of biscuits and coffee which he had just made himself. 

We entered another huge but simply furnished room for the coffee and soon found we had some common ground to talk about and we both knew Bishop Housden, his son works in television administration and he had gone to college with Dr. Auchmuty of Newcastle University. Dr. Simms is not the type of person that one would expect to see as an Archbishop - he is thin and not very tall and has a comparatively young appearance though I'm sure not a well man. Also he is just so far from being dominant - in fact is probably more the opposite but  every word is the right word and he is just so jovial - I like the way he would casually hum or sing a religious tune in between describing this or that object of interest.

His wife, who had been mowing the lawn entered with a flourish and flopped down on the nearest lounge chair -  such a contrast - so bossy sounding and casual in her own way. I think it would take some time to get used to her. We were in the study at the time and Dr. Simms showed us a secret door built into the library wall - the sort of thing you read about but rarely see. 

Before I know what had happened he presented me with his own book on the "Book of Kells" which the original I had seen in Trinity College, Dublin. Quite a thrill especially since he autographed it for me. We had a look at the Roman columned private chapel of the Palace and left. 

I walked back through the town again to St.Patricks Roman Catholic Cathedral set on another hill. Magnificent gothic building but so lavishly rich with mosaic, gold, and marble etc that it looked more like a mosque than a Roman church. However, it could only be described as immaculate. 

From there back to the Library which is between the Hospital and the Anglican Cathedral where the librarian showed me a book dealing with the train disaster and I was able to read about the part my grand-uncle played in saving lives that day. 

Michael met me at the library and took me to the top of the cathedral after ringing a peal of bells and I was able to get a good view of the surrounding country. A student was being taught an organ lesson so I was able to hear the organ as well. 

I said goodbye to Michael who had been exceptionally helpful to me and walked down the hill for an omelette and chips before catching the bus for the 2½ hour trip back to Dublin. 

Just a short word about the problems in the north - Michael told me not to bother using the phone as the exchange had been blown up - he showed me some places that had been blown up or burned down with fire-bombs. As darkness fell most shop owners placed mesh over their windows or even wooden barricades. However, there seemed to be plenty of people on the streets after dark even though there was an air-raid type siren on both nights I was there about 7.30 so I imagine it was a sort of curfew. 

At one stage I had to walk through a lot of soldiers with machine guns trained down the street but guess it was just an exercise.

Sunday 31 October 1971 - Dublin.

Yesterday I slept in, wrote letters, went grocery shopping with LIz and had a glass of the powerful Irish whisky at Liz's aunt place. Today was sunny and mild, a beautiful day for the end of October. We drove about 50 miles through the Wicklow mountains to Athy where Liz's mother lives - they have a pub (one of the multitude ofr pubs in town) and we gorged ourselves on home farm style cooking - fruit mince tarts, apple slices, haunches of meat sliced off the joint and of course guinness from the bar where Morgan pulled a few beers to help out. 

Friendly family and as the night progressed there was a fellow playing out all the Irish tunes on an accordion with all joining in. I noticed the numbers swelling after 6 o'clock mass, all dressed up in their best clothes - it really is a big night out for the simple Irish country folk. No matter how poor they are, the Irish seem contented with life and yet are open enough to strike up a conversation with a stranger without bragging their heads off. They seemed to informal and relaxed its hard to understand why there is so much unrest and hatred in the north. 

Monday 1 November 1971 - On board ferry.

I had no idea how I would feel when I left Ireland and the O'Sullivans who gave me such a wonderful time and made me feel so at home - in fact I've never felt so 'at home' for 5 months, ever since leaving Australia. In just two weeks I've seen and done so much its hard to recollect it all now and it was so good to have a base in the O'Sullivans comfortable home - it sure makes a difference to know somebody in a strange country, it makes me feel like getting straight off the boat again. 

For the first time in 5 months I felt like looking back but coming to grips with myself I realise it wouldn't be any use getting too involved here as I do want to start up again in Australia and as long as the money hangs out there'll be no need to work elsewhere. Perhaps it's just as well to leave now as it sure has been a traumatic parting for me. I know it wasn't easy for Liz either as she is so homesick for Australia and enjoyed talking with me so much about it all. 

She would go back tomorrow if she could but Morgan seems to be quite settled here in his native land and I can't blame him as I know now what it means to have a love for your native land and to be away for a time. He loved Australia but never felt truly a part of it - I know I could love Ireland and I'll miss it terribly but realise I would never feel truly settled here - at least I'll always have fond memories of this wonderful friendly Isle and maybe one day I'll come back and visit my friends once again.  But I'll never forget the soda bread and guinness. 

Saturday 6 November 1971 - Youth Hostel, Paris.

Yes, I'm so happy to be in Gay Paris - sorry for the pun but perhaps I should go back a little as I haven't made an entry for 5 days. 

It was a smooth crossing from Dublin to Heysham but I didn't get any sleep and it was equally difficult to sleep on the train to Rugby where I arrived 12 hours from leaving Dublin - quick trip  really.

From Rugby I hitched towards Guilsborough after ringing Ros to tell her of my impending arrival - after 2 lifts I was walking along the quiet road a few miles from Guilsborough when Ros appeared in the car - she had put back her appointments to meet me, obviously I was able to relax for a few days. Ros and I took Moona (the dog) for a walk. I showed some of my slides, we talked, I played their piano and generally sorted out my correspondence. 

There was a tape from home and John borrowed a recorder from a shop in Rugby and it was such a pleasure to hear the familiar voices of my family once again. Ros and John sure have been good to me. Yesterday morning John drove me to Rugby station on his way to work and from there a quick trip to London, I spent the day sorting out the method of my return to Australia. 

After checking out shipping, I decided to take the plunge and book on the overland trip to India by bus. I have been considering this trip for some time and talking to Cherry in Ireland makes me all the more keen as she came across from Australia this way only with another bus company. 
On the way from Victoria Station when I first arrived, I stumbled across the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. It is amazing how you can run into something happening in London - it surely is a city of contrasts. Soon after this the rain set in for the rest of the day making my activities unpleasant. 

The fare (transport only) to India is E£88 and the charter flight from Katmandu to Sydney is E£158  so it is quite cheap - no doubt however, the cost of food and accommodation on route will push the costs up but I just can't pass by the opportunity of seeing so many fascinating countries, and just can't imagine a better way of seeing them, especially as it goes every month so they certainly should know what to see and do on the way. I realise it will be rough - the weather could be a problem until we reach the warmer parts towards India. 

In a way I feel I don't fully realise what I'm letting myself into but I'm afraid I have that same old forced on feeling again and will just have to go through with it for better or worse. Even if it turns out not to be the most comfortable trip in the world, I'm sure it will be one to look back on with satisfaction and I'll never get the opportunity to go on a trip like this again. 

I booked into the youth hostel near St.Pauls after getting the cheque from home cashed into travellers cheques in Australia House. I rang Cherry who invited me out to her flat. I was so glad because I was feeling a little depressed. There's no doubt you can go so quickly in London from feeling on top of the world to way down in the dumps. Its not the kind of city to be alone in - so huge and so stolid - even the bright light areas seem to have an air of hardened solidarity about them. 

Caught the tube to Shepherds Bush and great to see Cherry again who had just bought some mead for me to remember our night at Bunratty Castle. I met her friend, Diane - who works for B.B.C. as a production assistant - she left later with two boyfriends for the pub.

 
Cherry showed me some slides she'd taken on the trip from India - all fascinating and better still, some slides she'd taken in Ireland while we travelled together. She has a good one of me patting a donkey, If mine turn out as well I should be pleased. I don't think Cherry is too happy working in England or more specifically London. Guess I won't be working in London now but it doesn't worry me.

I raced back from the tube to the hostel with a Canadian girl and buzzed till they let us in - it closed at 11 and we were a few minutes late. 

This morning I had a hectic time at the post office making out postal orders and filling in my travel insurance proposed for the trip. I consequently missed the 10am train to Paris but it was a good thing as I had more time to get things more properly organised and to get some french francs at Thomas Cook & Son the travel people who have the great habit of cashing travellers cheques for you - the Post Office won't. 
I caught the 1pm train at Charing Cross, bus from Dover Priory to the hovercraft building where we waited an hour till the hovercraft arrived dramatically heading straight for us in a cloud of sea-spray before bouncing up on the cement landing area. 

The flight (as it is called) was a lot rougher and noisier than expected so I sat tight and didn't worry about going to the toilet. I had met a woman on the train to Dover who gave me a plan of the Metro and getting off the hovercraft a pretty girl asked me in broken English if I would carry one of her cigarette packets through customs which I did and we talked between sleeps to Paris. 

I thought she was French but turned out to be Spanish - very friendly as well as beautiful with long black hair and a petite face. I think she was glad to be out of England after two weeks as she said she didn't understand English enough to get by. At least it was an opportunity for me to brush up on my French. She teaches in Orleons. She gave me her spare map of the streets of Paris so quite unexpectedly I am well equipped for the next few days in Paris.

On the Metro we passed over the Seine with the bright lights shimmering on its surface and the bordering trees silhouetted against the city. I got off at Italie Station and for the first time walked out into Paris. What a contrast after London, such vitality - crazy neon signs, wide streets, extra wide pavements  dotted with trees, cars rushing by on the right side of the street once more telling me I'm back on the continent. 

Its a funny thing but I can remember getting the same feeling when I returned to Germany after being in England last time. I guess there is a progressive futuristic feeling over here while life is so staid and traditional in Britain.

Sunday, 7 November 1971 - Paris Youth Hostel.

About an hour ago I came back from breakfast to find my sheet sleeping bag stolen. Naturally I was sorry about this but felt more sorry for the person who needed to steal it and offered a prayer to God for his sake. 

A friend has just found it hidden under another bed. It makes me realise that you are never alone where-ever you are.It is now 9.30pm after a fascinating day both walking round Paris and catching the Metro - had company too - Bill, a Canadian. Headed first for the Louvre and walked for miles through seemingly endless exhibits of Egyptian and Babylonian relics, then graceful Greaco-Roman sculptures culminating in the Venus de Milo - almost alive and so lovely from any angle. 

We walked by the Seine to Notre Dame past Parisienne white stone buildings. Inside Notre Dame a beautiful huge stained glass rose window caught my eye. We walked a little more along the Seine admiring the wide stone streets and generally open aspect. One thing worth mentioning is the disgusting open air mens toilets - often a round affair with heads, shoulders and legs visible - one was overflowing - ugh!

But without dwelling on this too much we caught the Metro to one of my life's memorable sights - the Eiffel Tower. Impossible to describe the feeling of actually standing before this magnificent structure with the fountains playing in the foreground and the white - grey city stretched out behind. 
We went about half way up (the top was closed) and a breath-taking view over the city and the Seine as the sun was setting - a cold wind blowing so after taking photos all the way round and staying as long as possible to retain the beauty of it all in my mind, we headed for the Metro and a coffee and cognac before having a simple but filling meal here at the youth hostel.

Monday 8 November 1971 - Paris Youth Hostel.

A taste of real Paris today as we walked down the Boulevard St.Michel past interesting boutiques and expensive coffee and liquor stalls - this is the Latin Quarter. After coffee we walked down by the Seine to watch the lovers and the fishermen standing lazily on the banks. A canal ride revealed the beauty of the many bridges over the Seine - all constructed at different times revealing contrasting styles of architecture dating from about 1600. 

Wandered through a department store and saw the biggest range of toys I've ever seen - they must be getting ready for Christmas. Also there was a wonderful variety of French sweets and chocolates. I had a bowl of fruits in syrup for lunch plus more of that delicious French coffee. 

We have been eating tons of French bread - it comes in long hard crusted rolls  and is great but hard work for the jaws. Yesterday, we had Patê on bread - I'm sure it would not taste the same anywhere else - just delicious.

This afternoon we were walking through the Tuilleries Gardens towards the Champs Elyseê when Bill remembered that the Louvre closes tomorrow so we dashed back and found the great attraction in the Louvre - the Mona LIsa - she is smaller than I had expected but so pure and holy a face that I had no trouble at all just gazing at her beauty. The smile intrigued me as you could almost see her smile broadening as you watch - Da Vinci seems to have captured Mona Lisa half way through a smile.

Bill returned to the hostel while I took the Metro to the Arc De Triumph. By this time darkness had set in and the Arch looked magnificent with the bright lights playing over the cream stone. The traffic tearing around the base was the most congested mess I've seen - horns blowing, lights flashing and men in white coats darting between the galaxy of cars blowing whistles and waving arms - terrifying, especially to be in the thick of it, I should imagine - I was amazed to see only one accident take place. There were even people on push bikes riding through it all.

A three quarter hour ride through the Metro where a filling tea at the hostel - omelette, chips, beer, cheese and tons of bread. Have been talking to a South African girl tonight who is just about to catch the train to Switzerland with two young people with a baby. 

Planning to go to Carcasonne in the south of France tomorrow - I'll be so sorry to leave Paris as I've loved every minute of it here and haven't seen everything by any means but guess it will be an excuse to return one day. I guess Paris could be summed up in one word - ATMOSPHERE!

Wednesday 10 November 1971 - Carcassone Youth Hostel.

Today was the coldest I've ever felt I'm sure. Yesterday Bill and I took the train from Paris to Carcassone which is a small town in the south of France. Although cloudy in the morning, the sun appeared as we travelled through flat intensive farmlands to hilly and scenic country covered in small autumn-goldened trees. The further south we travelled the greener the trees as I realised we were changing climates. 

My dreams of a warm Mediterranean were shattered when today we were blasted with a freezing wind off the Pyreneês. We started the day with a tour of the chateau inside the ancient walled city where the youth hostel is also situated - unfortunately the guide spoke in French but battlements and devices for torturing and despatching the enemy needed no explanation. 

The citê is in wonderful condition and some dates from Roman times. We walked down to the modern town - me wrapped in my woollen 9ft scarf I bought in London - it sure is coming in handy. My eyes were watering with the cold and I could see my breath without any trouble. 

I bought some woollen gloves and after coffee we returned for a walk around the city battlements. We bought some wine (about 30 cents a bottle), bread rolls, creamy cheese, patê and chocolates. A fellow just arrived says its snowing 30 kilometres from here. We hope for a car ride tomorrow to Barcelona where its warmer I hope.

Thursday 11 November 1971 - Hotel Aragones, Barcelona.


A long drive today to Barcelona in the back of two Americans V.W. Kombi van. It was freezing as we push-started the Kombi out of Carcassonne and passed through plenty of red and yellow leaved grape vines until the Mediterranean came into view. 

It was so windy and cold we only jumped out temporarily to take a brief picture before pushing on with the snow capped Pyrenees on our right - it was the first time I had actually seen snow. 

We drove through drier country although it had rained recently and I couldn't get my feet warm. At Barcelona we walked through the busy streets and after checking out many pensions we settled on this one. 

There was quite some trouble as one of the Americans was tight and sure lived up to his reputation - he wasn't satisfied unless it was the cheapest and best. Even in this hotel we were looking at a 4 bedroom for 300 pesetas when he noticed a sign saying the room was a 2 bedroom and for 160 pesetas. He said he was going back downstairs and threatening them with calling the police if they didn't do the right thing but we calmed him down and he complained in a nice way which meant we now have 2 separate rooms costing 145 pesetas each (about $1) which is incredibly cheap, especially considering we have a toilet and shower.

 
We met up with some other Americans and went to a really cheap restaurant where I had roast veal and potatoes, then squid and salad with sangria to drink, all for 70-80 cents, then afterwards Bill and I walked down and I had a couple of Cinzanos for about 35 cents. 

Things seem so cheap here after France. Just about to brave the shower before bed.

Friday 12 November 1971 - Hotel Aragones, Barcelona.

Bill had his sleeping bag so he gave me his blankets. I was very comfortable as a result and slept in to about 10.30 but a well needed rest. 

We stepped out into the noisy narrow streets and after coffee, ham and egg, window shopped our way to the zoo where we strolled around and saw an albino gorilla. We walked around the the docks area where we were stopped from taking photos - the Spanish certainly are militaristically minded. 

I changed some French money to Spanish and booked a tour to Monserrat tomorrow and bought a leather drinking gourd, and gold engraved ash-tray, brooch and cuff links for A$14 and a pair of fur lined suede shoes for Aus$6. 

We had another marvellous meal at last night's restaurant, cod entreê, steak and chips, biscuit and wine for about 50 cents each. We found a gaudy old restaurant where the bacardi cost almost the same as the coke - about 15  cents for a shot of bacardi and the same for a small bottle of coke. 
Its no wonder there are so many U.S. tourists here. 

Saturday 13 November 1971 - Barcelona, Spain,

I sit alone once more waiting for the train to move off from Barcelona's dingy station. Once again life for me is a series of meetings and goodbyes - its such bad luck I was born to be so sentimental. Guess its something one just has to live with. I enjoyed travelling with Bill because his manner is quiet like mine and we could have been great company but for the fact of us going in different directions - he to Madrid, myself to Rome. 

Today we took a bus tour to Monserrat, home of the Benedictine monks who have a good tourist business going. Its rather a pity as so many people tend to spoil the atmosphere, though the air was certainly fresh enough. I had my scarf in use and took a cable-car ride to the top of the boulderous mountain and whenever the clouds parted was able to gain a splendid view down on the abbey and the valley below. 

The boulders making up the steep mountains were absolutely huge and looked as though some mighty hand had smoothed them and stacked them there. Being a rose coloured conglomerate they made a smooth facade to the monastery.

There was some choir singing in the gaudy chapel and on the way back all the liqueur we could drink in 10 minutes at a roadside bar. 

Sunday 14 November 1971 - Pisa Youth Hostel - Italy.

A gruelling train journey of over 20 hours through 3 countries, Spain, France and Italy. Couldn't get much sleep and the seats were pretty hard. The compartments were full from Marseilles on.  

A sign-languaged conversation with a fellow in army uniform in Spain, then 2 zany Canadian girls and 4 Frenchmen and one Italian. The Mediterranean sea was a lovely light blue colour along the shores of the French Riviera but so commercialised and no nice beaches. 

Monaco - Monte Carlo looked ugly from the station but as we went round the coastline and looked back across the water it looked magnificent. Even so, though, I had been thinking of getting out and looking around, when the time came it all left me rather cold - so much for all my dreams of wealth and daring gambling that I used to kid my mum about. 

One day I'll approach Monte Carlo differently - flying in on my private jet and in my tuxedo but for now I'll push on in my army jacket and rucksack. 

As soon as I asked someone directions when I stepped out into Pisa, I was surrounded by friendly Italians wanting to help. I caught a bus and as the hostel didn't open till 6 Iooked around for somewhere to eat as I had no Italian money on the train and hadn't eaten although a generous Italian had bought me a coffee on the train. 

There were no places open, even though it was 5.30, apparently they don't eat till 8. Pisa had such atmosphere when I arrived, people walking all over the main street with the bus madly beeping to get through. 

As we passed over a bridge in the middle of the town, the yellow-orange pastel facades of the houses reflected into the still water of the river. 

Tomorrow, a look at the famous leaning tower. P.S. The walls and ceiling of the old hostel here have been painted in pastel colours. The artist has drawn classical figures, columns etc in renaissance style - all very atmospheric except for the juke box which is blaring out hit tunes echoing all round the building. I must admit its nice to hear music.

Monday 15 November 1971 - Rome Youth Hostel.

A fanstastic day today but first last night when I couldn't resist a walk to see the tower. There was light enough to see its great lean and looking up at its bulk silhouetted against the stars it seemed that it was falling - in fact it amazes me why it doesn't fall - the base must surely have been re-inforced in recent years. 

Today I returned to see it all in daylight. The white beauty of the tower, church and chapel is beyond compare. I climbed to the top to gain a magnificent view over the town to the snow capped mountains beyond. The sun was shining and I felt warm for the first time in quite a while - even the clouds and colours in the sky seem more beautiful here. 

After a look at the chapel and some frescoes I caught the train to Rome. I phoned friend Renzo at work where he was not at the time so I phoned his house and had a 10 minute conversation with someone (who turned out to be Renzo's sister) and who couldn't speak any English at all - is was funny really, so at the end of it all we both said 'arrivadechi' several times and hung up, both neither the wiser. 

I stopped into a coffee bar and ordered a cappuchino and a bun and sat down after being invited by a young frenchman to sit down at his table. He was sitting with another young fellow whom I thought was Italian but turned out to be Yugoslavian. 

The Yugoslav noticed my coat badges and said that he had been in Australia for 2 years and working in Newcastle - I could hardly believe my ears - I just arrive in Rome and meet someone from Newcastle. He didn't speak very good english but we talked about the town. He had just arrived back on the continent after working his way across on a ship and intended to get the first job he can on the next boat heading to Australia. 

It sure makes me realise I am not the only one who appreciates my home town. I found the hostel after catching the wrong bus and having to walk back to the station to catch the correct one. When I booked in I walked to Via Della Guilliana where friend Renzo lives.I was so pleased when Renzo answered the bell and invited me in. 

I met his brother and sister and had a few drinks which were a kind of liqueur with a cherry which had been pickling in the liqueur - delicious. The brother, who obviously runs the household (parents live in the country) invited me to stay there for my remaining night in Rome. He speaks a little English too so the sister is the only one who doesn't. 

Renzo and I caught the bus to town and went into a bar where some of Renzo's English speaking friends usually meet. They weren't there so Renzo and I had a talk over a few beers and caught 2 buses back to the hostel. I've had such a good start in Rome I just know I'll enjoy my stay here.

Tuesday 16 November 1971 - 58 Via Della Giuliana - Roma.

A marvellous day in Roma today - first off at the youth hostel I met an Australian girl from Warnambool, Victoria, who had worked 4 years in Perth. I dropped my pack off at Renzo's place and we met again about 10 o'clock at the Vatican. We spent 'till closing time (2pm) walking around the splendours of the museum and chapels, notably the Sistine Chapel, rich with frescoes by Michelangelo. 

The colours were not as beautiful as I expected but the longer one looked at the east wall fresco in particular (the Judgement), the more you felt you understood the feeling Michelangelo tried to create - most particularly the faces - so expressive. 

The figures (especially those being cast into hell) seemed so lifelike as to be moving and you felt if you looked away and looked back the figures would be in a different position. A pair of opera glasses would have come in handy especially for the paintings on the ceiling which were too far up to gain any detail. 

I didn't know if some of the paintings on the walls by Boticelli etc had been touched up but the gold paint of the clothes still glistened under certain light. The chapel is very dark but guess too many imperfections would show up in strong light. 

As for the rest of the place, it's just crammed with the usual paintings, statues, historic objet d'art etc etc - must be worth millions. I recognised some of the statues from Dad's history books and it was hard to believe that they were really there in front of me as I never expected to have the opportunity of actually seeing them. 

Joy and I walked across St.Peters square in brilliant warm sunshine into the very heart of the Roman Catholic faith - the St. Peters Basilica. I must say that it turned out to be just as I had anticipated - the most gaudy overdone piece of work possible - more a museum than a church crammed with statures, gold lacework, mosaic, marble, tombs (one with the body of a pope in robes visible - absolutely revolting!) - a most hideous black and gold canopy over the Pope's high altar. 

Noticeably, most windows strangely enough, in all the grandeur were clear glass which seeemed out of keeping with the rest of it but guess it made things a little brighter. St.Peter's foot, worn away by all the kisses, was interesting.

 
We walked down some back streets and had pizza and cappuchino coffee and argued with the hot tempered woman at the cafe because we thought we were over-charged, even allowing for the 15% tax they put on food here. Some things cost almost double if you sit down to eat them as well.

Foot-sore, we walked on past the imposing Victor Emmanuel monument, past grubby facaded buildings and along narrow pavements where you have to watch those fast Italian drivers. In fact you take your life in your hands every time you cross the street. 

We sat in front of the Trevi fountain as darkness fell watching people turning their backs on the fountain and throwing in coins - the idea is that if you do this and make a wish, one day you will return to Rome.

We walked to the train station and found out about trains and caught the 67 bus back to the Youth Hostel where I picked up some oranges and pears from a street stall and we peeped into the indoor olympic pool being used for training and we both felt like jumping in. 

I sometimes think an Australian out of water is like a fish out of the sea - at least I know I miss it all, especially the ocean and the warm sand - however, I must not dwell on that topic while in Rome!

We walked on and ended here at Renzo's where we had a truly Italian meal of some kind of maccaroni, tomato and parmesan cheese and bacon followed by a thin and tasty steak and tossed salad in oil plus white wine - just my kind of meal. 

After this we cracked nuts fresh from Renzo's parents farm (hazels) and after dropping off Joy at the hostel for the 11.pm curfew we drove on and stopped for coffee with friend Roberto. I love Rome but realise that meeting the right people sure helps.

Thursday 18 November 1971 - Florence, Italy

I am in a comfortable bed in a pension in Florence. Yesterday I met Joy at the youth hostel and we caught a bus for the colliseum. I could see Joy wasn't happy for some reason and when the bus took us miles out of our way she said she was getting on the next train to Florence. 

I went with her on a tram to the termino station after a coffee which helped us both recuperate a little but when we arrived there was more trouble when Joy's ticket cost more than she expected - she'd had a lot of trouble changing it around and finally was semi-satisfied but upset so I bought us some dinner and got her on the next train out. 

By this time it was 2pm so I had time only to walk down back streets to the colliseum. It was bigger than I expected and like all the Roman buildings, a tremendous achievement for those times especially when you notice those huge stone blocks. 

I caught the fast but infrequent metro back to termino station where I waited outside for Renzo. We walked along Rome's now darkened streets with Renzo pointing out things of interest including the Spanish Steps frequented by hippies in summer. There were a few there so Renzo went up and talked to them - they were from Sweden. Renzo had taken me to a back street parlour known as the "English Club" run by an R.C. Church where Renzo frequents to improve his English. 

I spoke to some friendly people including a Pakistani student and a priest. I had a great cup of tea and a slice of apple pie. Coffee is the usual drink here. At first crossing the street with Renzo was a terrifying experience as he would dart around speeding Fiats etc holding up his hand in the shape of a stop sign. He virtually dragged me everywhere by grabbing my arm and compelling me to follow. 

I'm sure that after a few days in Rome traffic elsewhere would by mighty timid. I had some delicious gelati (ice -cream) and bought a bottle of my favourite Asti Spumante for about Aus$1.20 ( one third the price in Australia). 
Guiseppina, Renzo's sister had cooked up up a nice meal and after writing a letter home was glad to get to bed. 

First thing in this morning I said goodbye to Renzo, Sondro and Guiseppina and caught a bus to the Colliseum where a short walk to the ruins of the Forum. It may have been beautiful when new but now it's just a rubble of beautiful white stone. I guess it would mean more to an archeologist.

 
Nearby I entered a small cell believed to be where St.Peter was imprisoned. From there to Baths of Caraculla. Once again I was over-awed by the size. No doubt these baths were big enough to fit the whole of Rome into them. There were chunks of the original mosaic tiles on view and one could imagine just how beautiful they were. 

From there a walk down the ancient Appian Way. Very narrow and for the first few miles dangerous as no footpaths but walls on either side and tons of cars tearing along at their usual Roman pace. 

After a while the traffic turned off and much more pleasant with pine trees and simple monuments by the road side. I felt it best not to push on too far and turned back just as it started to rain. I sat under a pine tree on an old stone and then pushed on back to the Catacombs of St.Callixtus. Our guide took us through dank and dark tunnels, narrow but 30 -40ft high lined on both sides with grave holes (1,000's of them) occasionally a little chapel including one where several of the early martyred popes were buried. 

There were some religious symbols marked on the walls still remaining. There were dark corridors leading off everywhere. Apparently they go for miles and some are still undiscovered - most exciting but glad to be in fresh air again. 

Caught two buses back near Renzo's place and bought a scarf for Pat. I picked up my pack, grabbed an apple and apear, scribbled a note of thanks to Renzo and caught buses to the station where I reserved a seat on a flight from Amsterdam to London on Monday. 

I scribbled on a postcard to Pat and caught the train to Florence (3½ hours) and arrived at 11pm so got into the first pension I found after checking out others and there being no room. Its expensive $2.50 per night with breakfast but it has a bath and this bed sure is comfortable. 

I eventually found Santa Monica pensione where Joy was staying and handed her back her Rome guide plus a Paris Metro map. They had told the poor girl there was a phone call for her and she rushed down to the desk looking terribly worried and dishevelled. She had been asleep and don't think she realised what was happening for a while. 

Anyhow, I returned footsore well and truly to the pensione and have had a warm bath to try and ease the paining feet.

Saturday 20 November 1971 - Como Youth Hostel.

A further eventful few days since I last wrote. There was quite a scene at the pension when I told them I was leaving after 1 night as I said before I was staying for 2. They charged me 500L. (about 70c) which I foolishly argued about - it would have been easier to just give it to them in the first place but I was so tired of having to pay extra for everything in Italy. 

I walked out in the rain and felt rather miserable as I headed towards Santa Monica pensione. I was getting wet but didn't stop to find my rain coat in my pack. As I was walking across Santa Trinita Ponte (bridge) a man with an umbrella coming towards me sheltered me and turned back in my direction and walked with me 2 blocks to the pensione. 

Its incidents like that which happen so often and mean so much when you feel down. It was a cold wet day and spent most of it rushing between art galleries - there sure is an endless amount of it in Florence. Much of Michelangelo's sculpture including the "David" - so lifelike - he sure manages to catch every muscle and gives his statues such movement. 

Endless paintings - a lot by Boticelli. Very gaudy cathedral on the outside - very rich looking but didn't appeal to my taste. However, a magnificent domed mosaic encrusted Baptistry - you pay to have the lights turned on so I waited till some rich Americans paid and sat back taking in all the beauty free. 

At the back of Santa Croce church there was a leather factory so I watched them putting gold leaf on leather and making purses. I bought a small leather book mark.

Back to the pensione via the famous Ponte Vecchio, a bridge crammed with tiny shops selling mainly jewellery and naturally alive with American tourists. I'm sure it would look romantic on a better day. 

Back at Santa Monica pensione I met the two Americans who had travelled with Bill and I in the V.W. from Carcasonne. We and some friends went to an old eating house close by and filled up on soup and spaghetti plus gallons of cheap wine - we sure had a great time and sky-larked around the pensione when we got back, it a wonder we weren't kicked out. 

Today I walked with an American guy to Pitti Palace, once the grande home of the King of Italy Wife staircases and beautiful frescoes giving the rooms a 3 dimensional effect they were so cleverly painted. There were lovely views over masses of red tiled houses. 

We had cappucinos and returned to the pensione where a friend told us of an impending train strike in Italy. I had to think quickly and luckily had a train timetable in my pocket so caught the last train just in time to reach Switzerland before the strike which could last 2 days.

At Milan I met an American who is travelling here to Como just inside the Swiss border. I decided to come here with him as there is no hostel in Chiasso just over the border and 5 kilos from here. I believe there is a bus I can catch to the border.

I bought some bread, cheese, tomatoes and coke on the way here so filled up to my satisfaction. I almost forgot to mention that just out of Florence I saw snow close up for the first time - it was unbelievably beautiful - so peaceful and pure covering the pine trees and roofs. It even looked beautiful on the railroad tracks. 

P.S. Tonight in the hostel there is Rick (U.S.) Dick (Ireland), Vagilin (Germany), Mohammed Ali (Malaysia) plus a South African and his wife. 

Sunday 21 November 1971 - Chiasso, Switzerland

Today was cold with low cloud and I experienced light snow falling on me for the first time. I shared breakfast with Mohammed Ali and we walked into town. He headed for the auto-strada (main road) while I walked round the edge of the lovely lake with blue mountains dotted with clusters of houses. 
A few nice pleasure cruisers moored but didn't feel in the mood for a ride over the icy water. Instead I took the fernicular to the top of one of the mountains and gained a magnificent view towards and over Switzerland only a few kilos away. 

The thermometer in the waiting room at the top showed 0 degrees centigrade so it would be below zero outside. As I walked passed semi-alpine homes and fir trees, tiny specks of white stuff began drifting gently all around and resting in the creases of my coat - it was a magical experience - some children in bright red bonnets, scarfs and mittens were laughing and playing and a family was walking up the slope in front of me. It was peaceful and quiet with beautiful vistas on either side. 

Once more at the bottom I had spaghetti and vino and bought some buns for the train - I have already filled my Spanish drinking gourd with some vino Mohammed Ali gave me. I caught the trolley bus to the border and was asked by the Swiss border guard if I was carrying hash - he didn't stop anyone else that I could see so I guess I look the bedraggled type who would be likely to have it. 

I left my pack at the station and did some window shopping - tons of watches and cigarette lighters plus jap radios, film etc with Italians everywhere and naturally all the people behind the counter speaking fluent Italian. They must do a roaring trade. I had 5 Swiss francs so I bought some Swiss chocolate. 

Light snow once again as before. As the sun went down a bitterly cold wind so I sheltered in many shops until with relief I found the train at the station - the information man at Milan was right after all, the train for Amsterdam has started from the border and I'm on it.

Monday 22 November 1971 - Dorset, England.

I had more trouble than before with customs police - there must have been an increase in drug smugglers but it could be from my dishevelled appearance. The train was wonderfully warm after such a freezing day - it was after making my entry in the diary last night that I realised I might have been able to get an earlier train at Chiasso and seen a little of Switzerland. 

As I passed through I felt like kicking myself but guess I had too much on my mind or maybe too numb with the cold. All I could see of Switzerland was piles of snow beside the tracks with intermittent snow and rain whirling silhouetted against some street lamp. 

I was half asleep when I was barraged with questions by a German border official - he asked me in German why I had a work permit in my passport - I was too dumbfounded to reply especially in German. So after stuttering something he asked me what was in my pack - he hesitated - I thought I would be searched, then he stepped out.

 
After that I had the seats to myself so slept to Koln between being asked for my ticket. Another fussy official at the Dutch border who didn't believe me when I said I was leaving Amsterdam today - he checked out my air ticket then thumbed through a thick book he had - obviously a list of black-listed persons of some kind. 

I ate some grapes and a few buns I had bought in Como and stepped out once more into Amsterdam. A very different scene from the day I arrived on the Continent 4½ months ago in the middle of a heat wave. A howling wind, rain, bare trees, blackish appearance and yet through it all there was atmosphere yet in the city. I can't quite work out what it is - perhaps a quaint olde-worlde atmosphere combined with a youthful vigour which the more modern thinking Dutch have. 

A bus ride to the airport. A strange feeling came over me realising I was there 4½ months only ago and to think about all the things that have happened to me during that time and to try and remember what my feelings were on that day of such hope for the future. At sentimental times as this you tend to think more of the setbacks - maybe because I let the initial setback in Germany really hurt me. 

Perhaps one can go either way after such an experience - up or down - but preferring not to classify myself into strict categories and remembering that you can't be what others may like you to be. I may have sunk lower in the eyes of some but I certainly hope to have made a few steps up in my own minds eye. 

Some facets of what life is all about I hope have emerged through all the mess of ups and downs. At least I've realised that the only way for me is forward (forward in my terms that is) and it's made me realise greater hopes for some future that I never gave thought to nor cared about previously. Will I be a different person when I return to my family and friends? If I'm not better in their eyes I hope I am in mine.

Before entering the plane my pockets were emptied, clothing rubbed, and body checked and after 45 minutes and a salad lunch (most welcome) on the plane touched down at Heathrow and collected my broken pack. It looked a sorry sight when it came through the wall on the luggage roller - the metal frame had been pulled out, one of the straps was broken and a buckle missing - I tied it together somehow and after being asked questions by a customs official about my camera etc and length of stay and more questions by an immigration officer, I bordered the BOAC bus to Victoria terminal where I phoned Pat and had a typhoid and tetanus injection by a nasty doctor who would not commit herself when I asked questions about suitable vaccinations for my journey to India. 

I must remember to have boosters for the typhoid and tetanus. I phoned my travel office and they said not to worry as the worst that had happened to anyone on the trip had been hepatitis - even so I don't like the thought of that one very much. 

I bought some anti-malaria and some diarrhoea tablets at the chemist. Its at times like these that you begin to have second thoughts about taking on a trip of this magnitude - its no turning back for me now though. 

I looked in a suitcase shop and collected a post card from Bill at Trafalgar Square P.O. then caught the 4.30 train and was met by Pat at Dorchester.

A welcome bath and filling meal and better still my mail - 3 letters from Mum, a letter from Cec, an x'mas card from Dara and a cheque for £20 from Mum for xmas. Pat seems a little brighter and Cuthbert just the same. An addition to the household - a white poodle. 

Tuesday 23 November 1971 - Pound House, Cattistock, Dorset.

Nice to have a cup of tea in bed this morning, then downstairs for the usual Pound House oats imported from Scotland plus bacon and eggs. After having trouble getting the car to get going in the cold Pat drove me to see Sherbourne Abbey, a sandstone ornate structure from the outside. Inside an ornate stone ceiling with painted sections - illuminated for one penny. 

Also a glass patch on the floor - illuminated to reveal a crypt with half open tomb and bones - ghastly! An old plaque to commemorate the nearby burial place of brothers (or nephews) of Alfred the Great plus other interesting plaques well preserved in olde-english writing.

I phoned cousin Cmdr Joseph Palmer who has invited me down to his place in Kent next weekend - from what I could tell I may be doing some horse-riding. This could be interesting as its something I can't remember having done before. 

This afternoon we walked across the downs in a chilly wind - it was slushy and dark and most of the trees are now bare for the long cold winter. It makes me glad I won't be here for the next 4 or 5 months. No doubt I felt invigorated when we returned after breathing in all that fresh air and freeing the poodle from a blackberry bush.

I think I'm getting an intense dislike for pets after my sojourns in English homes - barking at the slightest noise. The sight of the cat helping himself to food on the table really helps to turn my stomach, especially when everyone seems to blasé about it. I shoo the beast whenever possible - he really can't like me. On the news tonight a lot of border trouble between India and Pakistan - I sure hope things have quietened down by my arrival.

Wednesday 24 November 1971

Sun shine today but a cold wind. Pat and I drove into Dorchester where I bought a suitcase for £9.70 and paid 50p to a man who put a new part on my flash and it still didn't work. I felt mad for paying him later but was feeling a little too tired to care. It must be the typhoid or the tetanus vaccination having a reaction. 

I felt a lot better after lunch and we drove 15 miles through mostly bare trees and wintry landscape to Milton Abbey. We arrived just as the sun was setting and there were quite a few trees there with leaves so it was a beautiful setting. A cousin of Pat is the headmaster's wife (there is a posh boarding school there) and we had tea after looking at the abbey church and walking up some grass steps to the top of the hill where a 900 year old tiny church stood over-looking the monastery grounds. (St.Catherines Chapel - 1190AD)) It was built by a grandson of Alfred the Great (King Athelstan) in thanksgiving for winning a battle  nearby - he was supposed to have received some vision or inspiration on the spot. No electricity, just candles.

Pat's cousin was placing flowers in the darkness for the one and only annual service held there. 

Headmaster - 1969–79: W. M. T. Holland – previously a housemaster at Eastbourne College; left to enter the priesthood.

In the abbey church below Pat copied out an inscription on a plaque that her mother liked very much. 

Back at the Pound I tried a little unsuccessful packing and rang Cherry in London about accommodation next week and hope to hear from her friend Tony who is supposed to be going to help me out.

Thursday 25 November 1971 - Pound House, Cattistock, Dorset.

Typical English kippers (fish) for breakfast. Packing interspersed with piano playing. Drew a map of my journey for Pat plus dates and places pinpointed. Pat had done all my washing for me and had put it on the line bit it continued dark and drizzling so we have hung it all over the kitchen where it is drying nicely. 

Tonight I talked with a ham operator down the road but unfortunately he has spoken to New Zealand but hasn't reached Australia - I had been hoping for some connection with Uncle Jack - however, I gave him one of Jack's cards and he one of his in return. He is yet one more English person I've spoken to who thinks this country is finished and would like to start up down under - I guess like many others he'll never actually do it. 

I got involved watching the T.V. tonight while Pat did all the work in the kitchen. As its my last night here I feel bad about it now, perhaps tomorrow I can be of some company before I leave for London.

Monday 29 November 1971 - London

Friday was overcast but mild. Pat took me and the dog to the local beach. Almost 15 miles away. A brown pebble beach with flat sea reminiscent of Lake Macquarie on a rough day. We walked alongside weathered sandstone cliffs where sea gulls were building their nests. Cuthbert thought we were crazy to go to the beach on such a day - perhaps we were but it was just an opportunity for me to imagine what it would be like in summer - we certainly had no intention of getting in.

After tea we rushed in to Dorchester for me to catch the train to London - we arrived to see it pulling out so Pat suggested I stay another night and go the next day. Pat was not looking forward to my departure. That house would be terrible to be stuck in with poor Cuthbert  for company - he needs all the cheering up possible and Pat is so domineered by him. 
Anyhow I asked about the next train to London so Pat and walked round Dorchester's quiet streets for an hour until I caught the train in drizzling rain. 

Once in London I caught the underground to Cherry's friend's place, Tony Baker who lives in a tiny bed-sitter here in Brixton. Still drizzling when I arrived and had to shout to make him hear as he has no door-bell and living on the top storey. A tiny chap and friendly but obviously not 100% happy here and has booked on a trans-African trip leaving in a few months for his homeland - New Zealand. 

I have been sleeping on his bed base in my sleeping bag which isn't too bad really while Tony has the mattress on the floor. Unfortunately there is a gas leak and we have to close the window because of the cold so the room smells a bit, guess I'm here only for the week so can put up with that.

On Saturday morning (two days ago) I caught the train to Headcorn in Kent where I was met by god-father Joseph Mansergh Palmer (a second cousin) who drove me in his land-rover to a "meet" which was about to start and had his wife Jean and son Anthony riding in it as well. I was so excited and glad to see an actual "meet" or fox hunt - it couldn't really be more Engish! 

The masters in their bright red garb and the others (about 50 I'd say) dressed in immaculate riders clothes. We followed them by road wherever possible, drinking home made cider (delicious) and chatting to the locals  all out in force for the event. 

I saw the fox being penned in a few times and saw the horses jumping over a gate in the distance. A friendly 'country-type' woman invited us in for sandwiches and coffee. There's no doubt the people in the country are marvellous - so much openness and warmth. And cousin Joe so embracing with personality and charm that one couldn't help but be friendly. He loves the ladies so I learnt all about who was any good and who wasn't. 

At his farm "River Hall" I took off my muddy shoes and donned Wellingtons for a tramp through mud and squishy ground to check their 7 fine ponies in a far field. A large apple orchard and the rest open grazing. Some horses in stables being cared for by wife Jean who obviously loves horses. Anthony helps there too. Cousin Joe had invited two of the local farm girls around for supper but all we talked about all night was horses! I don't really have any love for animals especially horses and it was difficult trying to steer them off the subject as it seems that they are their whole life. 

Sunday morning (yesterday) I played classical records and read papers and the information at the back of the Readers Digest Atlas. Cousin Joe, Anthony and I took the dogs for a walk through a nearby pine forest then after checking the horses it was time for me to catch the train back to London. Cousin Joe tells me his father Alex died with £4.13.6 to his name. (Vice-Admiral Alexander Robinson Palmer R.N., A.D.C., D.S.O., O.B.E.) He was so generous a man and obviously believed in living life to the full. He told me I looked a little like him but didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or not!

This morning Tony got up about 6.am for work but I stayed in the warm security of my sleeping bag not wanting to face the realities of the day. This sure brings home to me the realities of life in London for the single man. Believe me I'd go crazy if I had to face the prospect of living and working here for the winter (or any time for that matter). A small dark room smelling of gas looking out onto a jungle of houses around me just visible through the fog - to me this is what life would be in London. Numbing hands and feet I thank God I've known a better life than this.

How can anybody exist through a winter by themselves in this place? Believe me I'm not depressed (possibly because I know I'm not stuck here) but just a feeling of revulsion wondering just how I would stand up to it if I had to live here. If I am weak in this regard then is it any shame to get out? At least I'm not afraid to admit I couldn't take it.

Tuesday 30 November 1971 - London

Well, myself and my mind has settled into London life a little since my last entry. I picked up (yesterday) my big suitcase from Waterloo left luggage and left it for shipment home at a warehouse in Cowcross St. I walked to Australia House and the branch of the Commonwealth Bank to cash mums £20 cheque but they were closed so walked down the Strand, bought a canvas bag for my sleeping bag from army disposals and sausages from the local Woolies ($1 for 2) and made it back to Brixton  to let Tony in as I had his keys to get more cut for myself.

Also bought some woolen pads to try to keep my feet a little warmer - so far so good!

Today I managed to crawl out at nine, cooked some  porridge plus left over sausage and egg. Went straight to Australia House and cashed mum's cheque and read a couple of the recent newspapers they have displayed there. As I think I've said before these places really make Australia almost over attractive for the prospective immigrant - it will be interesting for me to see and compare Australia with all these other countries on my return. 

I caught the underground after attending Holy Communion at a nearby church (St.Mary le Strand I think) where there was incence and clanging bells and an obviously mad woman with frizzy hair wandering around the back and la-la-ing all the hymns at the top of her voice (all quite incongruous). 

Getting back to the underground, I went to Gloucester Road to pick up my Thai flight ticket Katmandu - Bangkok - Singapore - Sydney. I had asked them before to book me Singapore-Sydney on 3rd February as they warned me booking would be heavy as only 2 flights per week to Sydney. Unfortunately they have me on Stand-by for the 3rd which in my mind is not safe enough to go all the way to Singapore and not be able to get from there to Australia so I've got them to try for the next flight (6th). I'll find out on Friday.

It all is a bit nerve-wracking as the bus for India leaves on Sunday so hope it's all sorted out by then. 

From there to my long awaited tour of the B.B.C. I arrived at the Television Centre at White City in good time and was escorted round with another Australian by a friendly but conservative engineering type who couldn't or wouldn't take us into areas we would like to have seen including a sound mixing desk which we would both liked to have seen as the other chap had worked in audio too at H.S.V.7 in Melbourne. 

It was a little disappointing as I don't think we saw any more than the uneducated person T.V.- wise would have seen. Anyhow it was the B.B.C.  after all and we did get quite a taste of it in the 2 hours. The Australian chap was telling me he's been here a few weeks and already looks like he has a job with Southern T.V.  He was given good contacts by H.S.V. and it sure makes a difference. 

I couldn't help  but think how different things might have gone for me if I had been given the right contacts instead of just a good reference. Anyhow, I'm not sorry now that I'm leaving England and heading home because I'm not afraid to start up again from the ground floor as I probably will have to in Australia as I have been out of work and more specifically T.V. work for so long now. I'm glad that I have come to the realisation early in the piece (or peace?) that my time is more valuable down under. At least I've seen what I wanted to see here and that to me is more important than even furthering my career in England. 

For supper tonight I cooked up spaghetti, tomatoes, bacon and cheese (my speciality) - it wasn't too bad and certainly filling! It's a bit cold as I write but at least there's no gas smell since we turned it off at the mains.

Wednesday 1 December 1971 - London

The first day of December was cool but packed full of interest. I caught a fast train to Oxford taking 1 hour to get there from Paddington and wrote some letters on the way. I was worried as the train sped on through dense fog but it had cleared fairly well by Oxford and from then on blue skies and sunshine all day. I must say again how lucky I am with the weather. 

Spent the day ambling down lanes and through marvellous buildings and chapels. Venture to say Oxford has even more character than Cambridge but Cambridge has the space and beauty of trees and canals - of course it was warmer then too which helps. 

Oxford (as far as I could see) doesn't have a Kings College type chapel as in Cambridge but beauty such as that would be hard to beat. The sandstone colleges in Oxford have that rich yellow colour and so much carved stone-work - gargoyles etc and spires everywhere. It wasn't the best time of the year for the gardens but the grass was rich green and in places covered by frost all day - some of the ponds were covered in ice too. It wasn't uncomfortable cold as there was no wind.

Wandering around all this civilized charm I couldn't help imagining how different life must have been in Oxford for my father after outback Queensland - a greater contrast would be hard to imagine - after life and death everyday problems faced by real people into  a pseudo world of flippant student and cultured culture. Yes, in my opinion it's yet another wonderful place to visit and should not be missed but I wouldn't car to be a student there. 

I caught a bus to Thame (about 14 miles) and Danny and John'sin time for a bath and supper plus some of John's best french wine which was from his 5 year old collection. It really was one of the best. We sat around the fire while the cat found a convenient resting place on my lap.

Thursday 2 December 1971 - On train to London

I'm just numb to know what to say after my goodbyes to John and Ros Attwood. I've just said goodbye to John who drove me to Northampton station and I'm heading for London - its 9.30pm. I hitched from Thame to Guilsborough this morning taking only 2 hours and three lifts. It was damp and foggy all day but warm in Ros' home.

I had a hearty stew and talked with Ros in front of the open fire. Ros brought out their recent acquisition - a tape recorder, she says it was my influence that caused them to buy it. 

The girls are using it for their piano practice and Ros has sent a tape to Jimmy in New Zealand - he has replied, very pleased. Ros rang John to bring home a tape so I have been very fortunate to be able to send a Christmas message home. We all made also a fun tape of a mock up interview. All I know is I was a mess when I first went to their home back in September and now I feel straightened out. 
I only wish more people realised what it means to have a helping hand when needed and a home away from home.

Sunday 5 December 1971 - London

I'm getting a little excited now as today I leave London on the bus for India. The headlines in the papers at the moment are all on the war between India and Pakistan so hope things have cooled down by my arrival. I had more trouble with my Thai ticket but insisted on them sorting it out because I remember only too clearly the trouble I had in Canada with an incorrect ticket. 

By 6pm Friday the ticket was stamped with definite OK status on all flights arriving Sydney 10.25pm 10th February 1972. In the meantime getting passport photos for visas plus corduroy pants (Aus$5), turtle neck pullover (Aus$5) and a patch for my pants which are wearing thin so I'll try my hand at sewing. 

Bought another diary as this one's wearing out and walked down Soho buying a record for Dad "The Laughing Policeman" which Pat has that Vi used to listen - very funny. Forgot to mention that I went to see "Hair" earlier this week - a lot of fun and cheerful show. Unfortunately no Symphony concerts this week so visited Westminster Abbey. So much like a huge tomb just crammed with memorials of famous Englishmen. 

Bad luck that the Royal chapels were closed but saw plenty of famous monuments to innumerable poets, Keats, Shelley, etc, Brontê sisters, generals, statesmen etc, you tend tofeel that any Englishman who ever made any mark in history rests here. 

I walked outside to see Big Ben - a magnificent structure. It was 3pm and the bell that strikes the hours has a unique deep tone - it was exciting as it has such a powerful ring to it - it made me think back to the days of England's glory. I'm sure you would be forgiven if back in those times you thought the power and the glory would last forever. 
There is no doubt London and England for that matter is going through changes now but I like to see some of the tradition still remaining (flags, guards, horses etc) but are these kept for the tourists? 

I walked via No.10 Downing Street down Whitehall and another look at Nelson's monument before checking to find no mail (I had a letter from Mum a few days ago) and then 2 hours in the nearby National Gallery where I saw dozens of paintings that I recognised from Dad's book and of course beautiful in real life. The misty oil paintings of Turner appealed to me and in a darkened room a painting (or sketch) by Leonardo Da Vinci - very old and torn but radiantly pure faces reminding me of his Mona Lisa. He really knew how to catch a holy look in human faces.

Last night Cherry's place a party where I met some friendly Aussies - a relaxing night around the strip heater and a few records plus some cans of course. Cherry gave me a photo of us at Bunratty Castle in Ireland - I look like I've had too much mead! 

Just about to dash off a few letters and pack - the bus leaves at 5pm from Twickenham, Middlesex.

6 December 1971 - Belgian - German Border.

Just stopped to check insurance and passport so a quick entry. It took 2 hours to get to Twickenham and waited in a small office, then walked with the others to the bus parked down the road in the dark beside the river - in the gloom I wondered "could this bus really get us to India." 

After waiting an hour for some late comers we set off and I struck up a conversation with Frank, an Australian and Mary, an English girl. We stopped in Canterbury and we three set off to buy a hamburger and chips. 

On the way back we walked round the Canterbury Cathedral bathed in spotlights, then a few beers at the plush looking pub before boarding the bus for Dover. 

Customs, then a fairly sleepless night on the boat buying 6 rolls, 36 shot Agfa colour film for about Aus$4 each and a bottle of Benedictine for about Aus$4 also for cold numb fingers expected at times. 

Arrival at Ostend about 4.30am and a four cold hours later spent in a sleeping bag arrived at Belgian-German border for bratwurst and coffee.

1.30am. We've just pulled up outside the police station after being stopped on the autobahn. Our driver was taken here in the police car and the other driver has brought us here. It appears he will be fined £80-100 for speeding and obstruction as the police car had been flashing his light and couldn't get past. 

He doesn't have the money so has been taking bits and pieces in such as the radio to forfeit as temporary payment. In the meantime I can smell oil and Frank has just discovered an oil leak on one of the fuel lines. 

We've just come back from a walk down to the local shop where we bought bread and cheese but now we have to sit and wait for the verdict. 

P.S. - we've already had starter-motor trouble at Dover and blocked the customs post for a while.

1.am. Sitting in bed in a comfortable hotel in a little Bavarian village. Our co-driver turned out to be fined E£85 for over-taking in a forbidden section of the autobahn and had to forfeit his watch to help make the payment. The other driver (Sam) has to drive all the way out of Germany now. 
We hadn't gone too far when we broke down with fuel problems. It was dark and misty and within moments the politzei arrived again and put flashing lights around us on the road and called a repair man, while assisting us with torches. 

As we walked around the bus the ice crunched underfoot. It soon became cold and after an hour the mechanic gave up and went into the next town and brought back a bus which towed us about 3 kilos then we piled into the other bus which brought us a few kilos of the main road to the quiet hotel. 
We had bratwurst, potatoes and sauerkraut plus beer for supper, then 5 of us settled into a game of cards (rummy) 

Wednesday 8 December 1971 - Austria.

Just crossed over the border - its cold and snowing - my feet are like ice and have been trying to warm them in my sleeping bag. Ian, the driver, is checking for a hotel. Just going back to yesterday we left the little German village, Wiebersbrunn at 3pm after the bus was fixed and made it to Munich by 8pm. 

We played cards (500) most of the way and passed through tall pine trees and barish fields after the snowfalls. Quite a contrast to the day before when we passed through a lot of industry - Germany surely is an affluent looking industrially forceful nation after England. 

We couldn't get into the youth hostel which was full so we parked the bus and the two Americans (Murray and Cecile), Frank, Mrs Mackie (Scottish woman in her sixties and sweetie) and self hopped on a tram and headed for the Hofbrauhaus. 

A few pints of beer later we were supplied with little bottles of liquer by two friendly Germans. We had asked the band to play Waltzing Matilda but they didn't so Frank and I started singing in as loud as we could - before long we were joined by a middle aged man immaculately dressed, swelling the choruses. 

He owns 30-40 thousand acres in outback Queensland and runs the Vaughan trucking company. He spends 9 months in Australia and 3 here in Europe each year and typical of Australians overseas raved on about the glories of life in Australia. His telephone no. Charlevile 1. 

I tried unsuccessfully once again to sneak out the door with a stein but no chance. I had to sleep half under seats and gear levers but my trusty sleeping bag was warm - I guess its good for developing a straight back too!

Next morning we headed for a cafe in a cold wind and overcast skies again and cleaned up in the toilet. We have been having a little trouble with our leader - driver Ian, who has been a depressing influence rather than a cheerful and competent leader - although he has been on these trips several times he doesn't seem to have the clues on accommodation and has been criticizing every one rather than being understanding.

Frank is on this bus to rendevous with a trip coming back from Kabul about the region of Istanbul where he is supposed to join them if they consider him suitable as he'll go back with them to London and become a driver on perhaps the African run. 

If they don't want him he may continue with us back to Australia. The co-driver is Paul, a New Zealander  who has worked a few years in Australia and then UK. This is his first trip but does all the work on the engine and is a whole lot more competent then Ian. 

Thursday 9 December 1971 - Austria.


We played cards (whist this time), ate bread, cheese and currants, drank Rhine wine and crossed the German-Austrian border in driving snow. After changing some money we stopped in a village near Saltzburg. It was snowing - Frank, Mary and I raced around throwing snow-balls scraped from cars. 

We three chose to sleep in the bus but were able to sneak a shower in the others hotel. We ate in an old wood-lined room lined with pine-tree branches for Christmas I guess. I had goulash - hot but good - Austrian food has a well-deserved reputation. 

The toilet door was operated by a coin but opened freely so I thought I'd get away with using it for free but couldn't open the door to get out so there was a small opeing at the top which led into the women's toilet. I clambered over to find luckily no one inside and the door opened OK. Only trouble was I was covered in white-wash off the walls - brushed most of it off. 

Today LIz, the Australian girl helped me brush it off. More snow throwing and joined the rest for beers and jokes (the Americans, Murry and Cecile told some beauties). Co-driver, Paul, joined us 3 in the bus for rum, coffee and cards (500). It was a cold night but we were warm in our bags. 

Hard work crawling out this morning. I got our thermos flasks filled with boiling water. We left about 9.30am and drove till dark through fantastic scenery. Rocky mountains and pine trees laced with snow. A few problems however - No.1, we didn't stop except for railway gates and lunch so I could take shots and No.2, the windows kept icing up making it difficult to see. 

We played cards again most of the day (chinese patience this time). It seemed to get colder and colder so we must be high up tonight - it sort of takes the glamour off all the beautiful snow and mountain streams and tiny alpine villages.

Mr. Francis Foo - ph wk 632378, home 80136385Jalan Mastuli, Charlton Park, Singapore 19. -- re tailored clothing

Mr D.J. Frank Osborn, 81 Steinberg St, Bendigo, Victoria, Australia, 3550, ph 430656

We were all wrapped in our sleeping bags by the time we arrived here just inside the Yugoslav border. Some of us money-saving types are sleeping on the floor tonight. Our driver, Ian, seems to be improving - I think Paul told him how we all felt about him and he is certainly being nice to me.

Friday, 10 December 1971 - Zagreb, Yugoslavia.

A much more pleasant drive today of about 150-200 miles as it became warmer as we dropped out of Austria. I was exhausted and went to bed on the floor before the rest, no trouble sleeping and had to push the bus to get going - I scraped the dirt and ice off the outside windows and the sun did the rest for the remainder of the day. 

A miracle toady - we played no cards. My feet still cold so had them in the bag - we passed snow covered fields as we left the mountains and crossed into Yugoslavia. No problem at the communist border and life obviously slower and simpler here. Horse-drawn carts and fewer cars - more drab houses (minimum of cement between the bricks), chickens and turkeys in yards everywhere, women on bikes, generally flat countryside. 

Frank left us at Graz as he has the job driving the bus to Africa. The charm of the countryside left us as we entered Zagreb - black looking streets and of course a minimum of advertising signs - my first realisation of this being a communist country was the petrol stations we passed with signs reading "PETROL" and nothing else. 

People uncolourfully but well dressed so far. Staying in the youth hostel and just had a hot shower - it costs over $1 so is expensive, especially for Yugoslavia but I believe all accommodation is kept about the same price. 

Sunday, 12 December 1971 - Yugoslavia

As I look out the window of the moving bus I see a bleak scene - black furrows of fields flat as far as the eye can see blanketed in snow. A few stark trees and grey houses and an occasional dark figure walking along some lonely track. A heavy overcast sky cutting visibility to a mile or so. This is Yugoslavia yesterday and today. 

My travel experiences are coming in handy as yesterday some were having soup at a roadside cafe but I was, as usual, suspicious and asked the price first - I narrowly escaped paying $1 for soup. Yugoslavia is reputed to be cheap but it sure pays to ask first. 

Last night we stumbled into a kind of roadside restaurant-bar without accommodation. We ate shiskababs and chips plus sliced pickle and bread and drank vino and beer. A band played - guitar, accordian and drum - folksy but lively and a girl singer. We danced and jumped around clapping hands, a Yugoslav smashed glasses in his hands (and later progressed to smashing bottles) - we built pyramids of glasses and bottles on the tables with of course disastrous results. 

Paul (the New Zealand co-driver) plays the guitar well, the band lent him the guitar and mike and he started playing "Girl from Ipanema." I took the initiative, stepped up to the mike and to everyone's amazement, including my own, I sang it through OK and was applauded for my effort. 

Some of us ended up sleeping on floors and tables but I slept in the bus - cold but fairly comfortable. This morning I was woken up in time to help push the bus - it seems like we may have to get used to this morning ritual. 

It was such a contrast yesterday as we entered Belgrade - we passed from flat countryside into towering blocks of flats stretching into the distance all around us crammed together, grey with no trees or garden  -there was no gradual entry into the city at all - before we realised we were out of it. 
The only similarity was lifelessness of the whole place.

8.30pm we played various forms of snap, grab, rummy and tiddlywinks while most slept after the night before. 

At last the sun began to break through just before Skopje and highlighted barren mountains covered in patchy snow. An impression of poverty and filth as we entered the town - garbage in the streets, tumbledown buildings and absence of any greenery to break up the combination of ramshackle buildings and multi-storey blocks of flats. 

We found the youth hostel and after a meeting about the degenerating nature of the bus (generator has had it now) we, the Americans (Murray and Cecile) Ken and myself caught the local bus and after going miles out of our way, walked back into the main town past roadside stalls selling everything from magazines to pastries. I bought some halva at one of these stalls which is a sweet and gooey mixture of sesame seed and honey - delicious. 

The streets were jammed with mainly youthful Yugoslavs - the cars had difficulty getting through. We ate at a self-service cafe cheaply. Fireworks were banging and whistling. An old bridge was buckled and re-concreted, evidence of the earthquake of 1964. 

Half the pleasant facade of the railway station had crumbled away and the clock is stopped at 5.15 - could this be the time of the earthquake?

Tuesday 14 December 1971 - Greece.

I'm chewing on pumpkin seeds as I write. It's great to be in a warmer climate in Greece. I'm glad to be out of Yugoslavia, and not a nice place in the winter and the food was too doughy and sweet for me.

For breakfast yesterday we had fried bread and strong goat cheese, plus sugared tea (must have had 6 lumps in it). 

We drove through mountains and snow past dirty towns while the sun began to appear. It was warm sunshine at the Yugoslav-Greece border and the countryside began opening out - a straight road, brown grass and blue mountains, as the snow began to disappear and the warm sun streamed into the bus I felt so happy as it looked so much like Australia. 

Its easy to forget the cold misery of a few days before. Beautiful vistas of snow covered mountains, grazing sheep and a blazing red sunset as we wound along the shore of the Aegean Sea - an emerald blue merging in to the pink sky. 

Our lights still not working, we passed through dark tunnels and scraped the bus in one - nerve-wracking. 

We made it to Carissa on night-fall and found a cheap hotel but I slept on the floor for nothing. We shared tasty meat dishes and vino and took a few bottles up to our room. 
Today we pushed the bus a block to get it going and have been passing green grass and groves of olive trees. From time to time a glimpse of the calm Aegean Sea and snow capped mountains. The road's a bit rough too.

Wednesday 15 December 1971 - Athens. 

We stopped by the monument commemorating the Battle of Thermopylae where the Greeks held off and defeated the Persian hordes. Later we had a picnic on the shores of the Aegean - crystal clear water and sunshine but not quite warm enough for a swim. I waded in to my knees over beautifully rounded coloured stones and ate figs and nuts and dark Oyzo.

Last night we strolled around bustling streets and scrambled over one of the hills by the Acropolis. To my disappointment, the Acropolis was not lit up. We ate souvlaki - a pancake with meat, onion, tomato and sauce wrapped inside (about 15cents) plus more cheap wine. 

Invited into many "genuine"Greek music night clubs round the base of the Acropolis but walked out when we saw the prices. We're staying in a cheap hotel Aus$1.50 a night, no bath or breakfast - I've washed out a few socks and underwear hanging around the room which I'm sharing with Mary - just my luck to have to share with a girl!

As far as we can see by the Herald Tribune, the war in India is still raging. We haven't seen our drivers (who are staying in a better hotel) for a day and night so we don't know if the bus is fixed and their money from UK has arrived to continue on. 

The slap-hazard way that this trip is conducted is incredible. According to co-driver, Paul, the driver, Ian begged to take on this trip because he is wanted by the police in England - he appears to be a shareholder in the Overland Trips Co. 
This morning we dodged our way from cars and hurrying Greeks past the flea market where I bought some worry beads with Laurie - we bought them for a joke.

Up past ruins on the slopes of the Acropolis to the true glory of the Acropolis - such pure grace and contrast to the dirty old city. Sparkling white stone with simply cut lines. Mauve mountains ringing Athens to the sun shimmering on the sea towards Piraeus.

We caught the train to Piraeus (about 5 kilos) and had fish and retsina looking over blue waters to the long strip of Athens back by mountains and the dot of the Acropolis peeping out. 

We strolled along to a sheltered harbour cluttered with bright fishing boats. We sat on swing seats and watched the setting sun change Athens from white to pink to hazy blue while the boats gently rocked into dusk.

Thursday 16 December 1971  - Athens

A walk around streets dodging people and cars. The money we're waiting for from London to continue the journey didn't arrive. A meeting excluding driver Ian - Bill has left the group and is by now back in London. He has taken with him a note signed by all of us to the effect that we will not continue past Istanbul unless Ian is removed and we have a new driver. 
I'm sure Bill will put in a good word for us and our ridiculous position. 

After the meeting and goodbye's to Bill(13 of us now) Peter, Liz, Laurie and self took the train to Piraeus and catching a ferry to the nearby Island of Aegina, managed to forget the problems as we left the noise of Athens in blue skies and emerald waters.

We sat on the shore of the Island until the setting sun changed the colours of the mountains and sea from blues to pinks to red and orange - an occasional fishing boat surrounded by seagulls.

After writing a message in our empty wine- bottle and then trying to bomb it from shore, we headed back to the village and sampled some macaroni with octopus for 40cents - greasy and tasty. 

In the quiet of the dark promenade a tiny chapel big enough for a dozen people but with just a few thin candles illuminating the old whlte washed walls. The 7.30 last boat back to Piraeus and now relaxed and ready for bed, which is for me the bus parked a few blocks away.

Friday 17 December 1971 - Athens.

A reasonable night sleeping on the bus - back at the hotel a meeting - driver Ian was phoned last night by Ian Way in London - it appears Bill went straight to Ian Way when he returned to London and told him the situation. Ian is catching the train to Istanbul armed with a new generator plus money to pay us back if we all chip in cash (about $6 each) to get the bus to Istanbul. 

We thought badly of the situation so we phoned Ian ourselves and can get no guarantees obviously but seems that he didn't send the money here to Athens as he didn't have any?!! 

Yes the company is going into liquidation and he has to borrow money off relatives to get to Istanbul and pay us off from Athens to Istanbul - he is then accompanying us to Delhi or as far as we go because of the war going on between India and Pakistan. 

The only trouble now is than Ian Stevenson (driver) has the insurance and customs documents signed in his name so we have to watch that he doesn't abscond with the vehicle as that is the only thing we have left to hang on to capital wise.

Saturday 18 December 1971 - Mt. Olympus.

So glad to be out of Athens and the problems - everything twice the price and apart from the Acropolis and the islands, not a pleasant city to be in  - in general a dark and dirty appearance and few open areas.

Interesting to see a few holdens (mainly taxis) for the first time in 6 months, probably bought over from Australia by the affluent Greeks in Aussie. The colours of the countryside here are constantly changing - rich reds and oranges with fresh grass and autumn leaves in the south - here it is more bare - it must have snowed. 

Last night we stopped by the sea, bought a pile of meat, potatoes, and wine. Liz (the Aussie girl) and self built up a roaring fire on the beach and had a great night singing, eating and drinking. I drank too much and slept on the beach in my bag.

I was cold when I woke up and have been suffering today. I am punishing my body enough these day without the vino to make things worse. It really amazes me what the human body can take!

We just pulled up at the tiny village of Platanon by the Aegean and Mt.Olympus . There is so much to see in one of these tiny villages. I feel a little better after shish kabobs, chips and a salad of cabbage and olives (60 cents).

Monday 20 December 1971 - Just inside Turkey.


An early night Saturday night - just exhausted. On Sunday we stopped in a little Greek village when we were low on oil and were greeted by the friendly inhabitants and handed pieces of toast and some kind of sweetmeat. They were all dressed up probably just been to church - women in black veils, one with front teeth coated in gold. Some friendly old men with worry beads. 

Going down into Kavala we ran out of brakes, so stopped and wandered around the waterfront - brightly coloured fishing boats - an old ruin on the hill and a statuesque aqueduct. 

On through more boring and dry country into darkness - we stayed the night in Alexandroupolis - some of us slept in the bus - all of us fairly tired again - blaming it on the fumes leaking into the cabin from the engine. 

I didn't sleep too well but don't feel too bad today. 
It was foggy at first then opened up to reveal a drier landscape - the Aegean still a beautiful blue but choppier.

We've been talking to Murray and Cecile while finishing off some food scraps and vino. They are an interesting couple. 
Murray was New York District Attorney and Cecile Legal Representative to the United Nations. You sure don't always know who you're talking to - it explains their outstanding character. 

And now, after coffee, on to Istanbul. 

Tuesday 21 December 1971 - Istandbul.

A terrible day today - I woke up feeling bad but got up and we walked through drizzle and filthy dark streets to collect 3 welcome letters. We changed some money (me $2) on the black market and hustled on to the Blue Mosque. 

We took off shoes and walked over undulating carpets - ugly chandeliers (rusty) hanging from the ceiling to about 8ft from the floor. Difficult to see the colour of the ceiling as such a dull day with patches bare - obviously dropped off - some nice colours in the stained glass but not interesting designs. 
I felt exhausted so returned to the hotel and covered myself with all the blankets off the beds - a croupy cough and fever - dosed up with pills and some swigs of Laurie's brandy - spent afternoon in bed. 

The money from London did not arrive and we phoned Ian Way and his lawyers have told him not to leave London, he has not been able to borrow any money. It appears Murray, Cecile, Mrs Mackie, Laurie and Norman are not continuing on leaving a possible 10 including 2 drivers providing £150 comes through from London, being a personal loan that Ian Stevenson (driver) has tried to arrange.

Wednesday 22 December 1971 - Istandbul

Sunshine today and feeling a little better but sore throat and tired. Picked up a visa for Iran and went to get a booster typhoid and tetanus but was told no serum in Turkey?? However, not sorry about it as it wouldn't have made me feel any better having the vaccinations. 

Went with Ian to check but no money arrived from London as yet. I called in at a travel agency and found I can fly from Kabul to Kathmandu if necessary. The agent asked me to deliver a message to his friend in Kabul who is the Minister of Foreign Affairs so I certainly shouldn't get stuck in Afghanistan. 

I bought a carrot juice for only 15 cents and this evening a meal of salad and shish kabobs for 35 cents. 

Istanbul is not a beautiful city - narrow old streets, rubbish (no garbage collections), dirt everywhere and suspicious looking characters harassing you to change money or buy hash. Streets choked with old gaudy American cars given as aid instead of cash. Street-stalls frying tiny fish, roasting nuts, foodstuffs dotted with the occasional fly, old clothes, souvenirs and cigarettes. 

Nobody drinks the water here - restaurant tables dotted  with sealed bottled water. 

The other night in a restaurant the military police searched a suspicious hippy-looking character next to our table  and then marched him outside  - it makes you realise the different atmosphere of life here  - it's possible to get life imprisonment for importing and exporting drugs and at least 3 years for possession.

I believe there is a 14 year old English boy caught with drugs still in jail here after 6 months trying to get him out. 

I bought some vicks pastilles and some syrup for the throat. 
We have a comfortable lounge in our 9/- per night hotel but the toilets don't smell so good and no toilet paper - a tap provided. Luckily I have my toilet paper.

Thursday 23 December 1971 - Istanbul.

Today we saw the more recent parts of Istanbul on the other side of the water. We checked out flights onwards from Kabul and found that no flights into India at this stage and none to Kathmandu at all, however I could fly to Bangkok but they suggested getting to Kabul and finding out there. 

We farewelled Murray, Cecile, Laurie and Peter going by boat to Italy (10 of us now including the 2 drivers). The money didn't arrive so tomorrow I'm finding out the train times to Tehran. I believe it leaves 3 times per week. Tonight I heard the drivers asking the hotel manager where to sell tools here, so guess they're getting desperate for cash - they must realise that we won't give them any more. 

It's got to the stage when I sneak out to avoid being seen and be asked for money to pay for a meal when we  get it. We've had a few come to ask about travelling with us as we have a sign up but we can't give them a date as Ian doesn't know when the money will arrive - that is if his friend has sent it.

Perhaps its just as well we're stuck here as I still don't feel 100% with running nose and sore clogged throat. 

Wandered with Rosemary through the markets and besieged by people wanting to sell their clothes and jewellery. Tonight we all ate some terrible food - most food here is half cold - you choose what you want from huge bowls as you go in - at least it's cheap.

Saturday 25 December 1971 - Christmas day - Istanbul.

It's hard to believe Christmas is here as I write from the hotel Buyuk Ayasofya the centre of a moslem area where there are no decorations, in fact no sign of Christmas anywhere. 

I struggled out of bed about 11 and haven't been game to go out as I'm saving my strength for a Christmas party that we're having in the local café called The Pudding Shop, meeting place of travellers, hippies, etc of all nationalities. 
They've done the place up with a Christmas tree and decorations and are laying on a supper of turkey of all things (in Turkey). 

My flu or whatever it is has spread and a few of us are spluttering around the place - I've been dosing up with all kinds of things  - its developing into a surprise to find out what hurts etc when you wake up - today I have back pains - I haven't used the toilet successfully in 5 days so will have to do something soon. 

No money yet from London - perhaps is just as well the way we feel. Yesterday we tried to get student cards unsuccessfully, the government has got wise and is clamping down.

Monday 27 December 1971 - Istanbul.

A walk through the Topkapi palace and museum - just a shambles now but glorious in its day - swimming pools with fountains, tiles, mosaics in mother-of-pearl, gold, stained glass, long couches and carpets. 

The harem tour was interesting, the sultans had from 30 to 200 concubines plus favourite wives (those who bore children). We saw sticks used by the older eunuchs to beat the new eunuchs brought from Africa - no other men were allowed in the harem ( except the sultan, of course). 

Our little Christmas party in the cafe was interpreted by the local newspaper as a debauched feast and had a posed shot on the front page of Rosemary kicking her legs up and glugging a bottle of wine - the headline was "Hippie Christmas Party" and said Rosemary was dancing on the tables  - no doubt all the moslems would lap it all up. 

We met a friendly American from the base who took us last night and today also to the U.S. canteen where we filled up on decent food - it has made me feel a lot better. My voice is still croaky but at last on the mend after a week's illness. I could hardly talk last night and had a deep cough until Rosemary gave me something to make me sleep.

Tomorrow we check out the possibility of going south through Iraq to avoid the horrors of the cold and snow in Eastern Turkey. 

Book 3
Wednesday 29 December 1971 - Turkey

The days waiting in Istanbul for the money from London are becoming a blur. After a week's illness, I'm beginning to think more clearly but still have a nagging cough. I've been getting plenty of sleep and taking things easy. 

Yesterday Mary, a Turkish friend and self walked down by the sea with a bottle of wine and watched a fiery sun glide down beneath the water silhouetting the framework of local industry and a few old fishing boats puttering along or being rowed back to shore. A shoreline cluttered with every imaginable piece of rubbish. A tiny humpy a few feet from the sea inhabited by a lone fisherman. 

Today a visit to what was once a huge underground water storage cavern used whenever Istanbul (or Constantinople) was under siege. It must be 150 - 200 feet square and 30 feet high, held up by rows of graceful pillars. Today there was about 3 feet of water but you could see marks up the columns from previous water levels. 

Today 7 of us booked out of the hotel with the idea of staying a few days with American friend Jerry to defray expenses. If I had realised the difficulty of this undertaking I would not have attempted it. It took 2 hours by boat to Yalova, then the Turks crammed 17 of us into a V.W. Kombi van and travelled 20 miles inland to the American Base stopping off here and there to drop someone off in the darkness - unfortunately I was next to the door so had to keep hopping onto the bleak road to let someone out. 

At the base Jerry could not be found as we stood in the cold so a couple of cars took us into the next town to where Jerry has a house - not there either!! We are now sitting in the local coffee shop surrounded by a crowd of old Turks. 
We have bought some biscuits and are drinking tea. Our Turkish friend has returned to the base to try and locat Jerry.

Friday 31 December 1971 - Karamursel

I'm writing in a house about 100 yards from the sea - its the weekender used by Jerry and friends in the summer - it would be nice then but too cool for swimming now even though some sunny days -we are having a lazy time here.  - sleeping in, sitting in a lounge room with walls coated in pop posters with a cassette player running hot all day.

It gets cold at night but we have filled the kerosene heaters. We bought a pile of meat and vegetables in the village and made  two saucepans of stew. Its great to be out of Istanbul - its so dirty and depressing but out here fresh air, blue sea and mountains, a few locals with sheep, fowls and turkeys. 


"To continue reading this diary go to the 1972 page. To do this, scroll back up to the top of this page, hover the mouse above the words 'Palmer Family' on the right of this page, then click on 1972 Diary - Joe Palmer."



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