Lala phansi

Lala Phansi South Africans on a Shoe-String Tour in Europe

COLLEEN SHEARER

Š Colleen Shearer 2013 First published in 2013 by BK Press

www.bkpress.com

ISBN 978-1-920584-16-0 Cover Design & Typesetting: Ginny Porter A true account of events and circumstances experienced by the author.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, translated or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

DEDICATION To all those who dream and dare to live their dreams.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT To Anne Kelly, my son-in-law’s mother, whose enthusiasm for this account and encouragement persuaded me to have it published despite the 50year delay.

To my three companions – Bobbie Conchar (a Durban friend), Julie Evans and Jean Bell, (both of Pietermaritzburg) – my affectionate appreciation for how they indulged my dreams and fulfilled their own so compatibly. By pooling resources and adopting a strict shoe-string budget, we were able to enjoy so many jewels of Europe and Britain. I could not have done it without them. Sadly, Bobbie and Julie, (who married John Askew), died some years ago, while we all lost track of Jean after she married.

Shirley Greenstein for her wonderful illustration for the cover.

To my gem of a publisher, Ginny Porter, my enormous gratitude for her patience, cheerful enthusiasm and resourcefulness throughout.

Table of Contents AUTHOR PROFILE ............................................... i INTRODUCTION.................................................. ii

PART ONE: FOUR GIRLS IN A VOLKSWAGEN CHAPTER I .......................................................... 1 Au Revoir – the Journey Begins CHAPTER II ....................................................... 22 Bella, Bella Italiano CHAPTER III ...................................................... 49 No Rain in Spain – Olay CHAPTER IV ...................................................... 61 Black Forest Magic CHAPTER V ....................................................... 82 Northern Delights CHAPTER VI ..................................................... 96 (Teutonic) Country Cousins

PART TWO: TWO GIRLS IN A TENT CHAPTER VII .................................................. 106 Getting down to Camp Life CHAPTER VIII ................................................. 117 Broad Bean Pickers CHAPTER IX ................................................... 129 In a Maze of Dickers

CHAPTER X ..................................................... 141 Still in the Southern Counties CHAPTER XI ................................................... 150 Novelists’ County CHAPTER XII .................................................. 164 A Novelist’s Dream Scene CHAPTER XIII ................................................. 172 Heading North through Singing Welsh Hills CHAPTER XIV ................................................ 188 The Heathered Hills of the Bonnie Land CHAPTER XV .................................................. 201 Roots CHAPTER XVI ................................................ 210 Family and Farm Life CHAPTER XVII ............................................... 223 ’Tatie Lifters in Cambridge

PART THREE LIFE IN LONDON CHAPTER XVIII .............................................. 241 When you are Tired of London you are Tired of Life!

CHAPTER XIX ................................................ 255 Hyde Park Corner and the Rest CHAPTER XX .................................................. 266 Cockney Cons CHAPTER XXI ................................................ 274 Winding Down ... and Out

INTRODUCTION

D

uring a 5-month trip to England in 1952 with my parents, I fell in love with the whole concept of learning more about my roots. Thus was born in me a dream to return there one day and to spend a whole year touring not just Britain, but also the continent of Europe.

Funds clearly would be a problem and such a trip would have to be on a shoe-string. That meant a camping tour throughout. The initial cost of the sea voyages there and back was ÂŁ200. And the minimum I would need to live for a year overseas was another ÂŁ500. It took me seven years to save that amount with no luxuries. But the shining dream never dimmed in all that time.

When 1959 dawned my bank account was ready to be harnessed. Before even sailing I planned the entire tour. Nine weeks were earmarked for the continent, with the remainder of my time devoted to Britain, especially England and Scotland, the roots of my forebears.

Fortunately for me, three other girls with similar ideas enthusiastically joined in. Even luckier was that they were happy for me to plan the entire tour of the continent, knowing what deep and detailed thought I had devoted to the whole initiative over a long time.

Bobbie was a golfing friend who gladly gave me carte blanche, while Julie and Jean were shipboard acquaintances who happily fell in with ii

all my ideas. Their original plan had been to tour the continent by bus for three weeks at a cost of ÂŁ200 pounds each. However, by pooling our funds we were able to spend nine magical weeks touring ten countries in a hired Volkswagen Caravette campervan, and by arranging all our own catering. Those nine weeks cost us ÂŁ99 pounds each on a positively shoe-string budget.

We stuck rigidly to the plans I had drawn and I was really fortunate in finding such amenable companions who would enable me to live my 7year dream. This account is all about how we managed on that shoe-string.

Some might argue that after over 50 years such a tour would be well past its sell-by date.

However, no one can dispute that those same famous places and historical treasures are still there and just as famous as ever.

Perhaps even more so - their value has increased and been improved upon by time, like any antique. One sometimes loses contact with old friends but fortunately recently I received a letter from Jean Bell who was thrilled to see I had written a book on our experiences.

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PART ONE: FOUR GIRLS IN A VOLKSWAGEN

CHAPTER I Au Revoir – the Journey Begins

H

OMER’s rosy-fingered dawn might not have heralded April 1st 1959, but it was nonetheless a red-letter day for four South African girls as we set out on a tour of the continent of Europe.

Being April Fool’s Day we hoped we were not being four fools! Excitement was at fever pitch.

Ten o’clock, zero hour, had arrived at last after a month of careful planning and years of saving, with Europe now awaiting our invasion.

We four, Gwen (nicknamed Bobbie) and I from Durban, and Julie and Jean from Pietermaritzburg, had decided to tour the continent together and to make it, by necessity, an inexpensive camping trip. Our transport was a Volkswagen Kombi cleverly converted into a Caravette (affectionately named Bertie), which had minimal yet adequate amenities for cooking, sleeping, travelling and washing. In fact barely adequate for living!

Only Bobbie and I had a driver’s licence and, as neither of us had driven in London before, we tossed a coin to see who would take the wheel for the first nerve-wracking miles.

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Tails had me perched high up on the driving seat, clutching the steering-wheel sticky-palmed, and cautiously negotiating the Watford by-pass towards the centre of London. However, my misgivings soon faded and we managed without a hitch, going straight down Park Lane and around Hyde Park with traffic whizzing past on all sides.

It happened that we needed to stop at Selfridges for last minute supplies, but the question was how to find parking in such a premium spot? However, having a personal philosophy that a positive outlook is usually rewarded, I simply expected to be lucky and sure enough, right outside Selfridges in busy Oxford Street, there was an empty parking bay. We took that as an early, propitious sign for our whole undertaking.

As soon as we reached the outer suburbs, Bobbie took the wheel while the rest of us settled back expectantly, thrilled to be on our way at last.

Having already booked a passage on the Channel ferry we made for Dover that first ‘experimental’, (as regards camping) night.

Our route passed through the truly lovely old city of Canterbury where we spent a long time in and around the beautiful cathedral. Thoughts naturally drifted to Thomas Becket and that 12th century tragedy so movingly dramatised by T.S. Eliot in Murder in the Cathedral. Were we actually standing where that reverend saint was felled?

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