GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE June 3-17 Britain

The two weeks after my arrival in Britain were a flurry of activity that, as expected, began and ended with family.   But when the matriach of my family arranges matters, the process may be convoluted but the result is rarely accomplished 'as expected'.

Thursday, June 3:

Within 24 hours of my arrival in England, Mom and John were again driving me, through rush-hour traffic.

This time we travelled from Buckinghamshire to England's capitol city where I was duly deposited at the front entrance of the British Museum.  John had a lengthy errand to run that day, and so would not be able to join us at lunchtime.  But Mother arranged to meet me outside the Museum at noon. Moments later, the morning traffic swallowed them whole.

The British Museum

Having been in Canada when the troubles in Ireland began to have physical repurcusions in England, I had not been aware that stringent security measures were in effect throughout public buildings in London.  I was thus very surprised when a cheerful security guard bid me a hearty good morning, all the while noting my clothing and manner, and then respectfully enquired if I was a "Reader".

I was shocked into silence by his question!  How could he possibly know that in Canada, I had been a "Reader" of other people's Astrology charts and Tarot cards to supplement my income while atttending SFU. And why, on earth, should he care to know? 

But before I had a chance to recover myself, this most deferential fellow begged my permission to examine my bags.  Luckily, that day, I was carrying only a lightweight tote and not my full backpack. This guard was so exceptionally polite that it wasn't till later that I realized he'd been looking for weapons and incendiary devices. He had made the invasive act of being searched for contraband an almost painless experience for me. 

Present-day examining authorities 

please take note!

White Gloves 

Mother later explained that in the Museum Reading Room Archeology graduate students, authors or professors wear 'white gloves' to reverently examine ancient rare and precious documents. No wonder the guard had wanted to know where my white gloves were!

What a rare opportunity I had missed to actually touch an ancient book or authentic relic - not to read its contents with my eyes, but to psychically glean information about our world's ancient past.  Since childhood, with or without white gloves on my hands, I have been able to glean historical information about the objects I handled.

Museum Reading Room

photo by kind courtesy of guardian.co.uk

Though chagrined that I'd been unable to see, first-hand, the manuscripts of the Museum's vast round Reading Room, I was determined to enjoy the rest of my time at the museum.

For the remainder of the morning, I wandered, completely alone, through cavernous rooms filled with artifacts from the civilizations of Egypt, Greece and Rome.  Press here to see the treasures housed in  these rooms online.

Yearnings
So many whispers emanated, energetically, from the artifacts that loomed over and around me, I felt as if I were eaves-dropping on private conversations from ancient times.  And though I did not understood their language, their 'messages' were abundantly clear. Some artifacts conveyed feelings of such intense yearning that I became overwhelmed and had to leave the Museum, lest I softly and suddenly vanished away. Ancient objects ofttimes exert a very real pull on those with ears to hear and eyes to see.

The British Museum

photo by kind courtesy of Jon Sullivan of PDPhoto.org

Outside I grounded myself by sitting on the Museum's reassuringly solid stone steps, my back against the base of  one of the lofty Ionic columns that grace the entrance.  

I waited there for the return of my Mother, and let the city noises slowly re-connect me to the 20th Century. 

As usual, Mother was late, so late that I wondered if I'd correctly remembered where we should meet. But before I could further second-guess myself, I spotted the familiar blue Mini slowing down outside the Museum gates.

Lunch at a small but elegant restaurant off Oxford Street was to be Mother's treat.  To get there, while obeying traffic laws, we were forced to navigate three sides of the vast edifice that is the British Museum.  But behind the museum Mother slammed on the brakes and ordered me to get out of the car!

Chance Encounter

Perplexed by her command, yet ever the obedient daughter, I did as I was told. But when I looked into the car to ask why I was standing on the pavement instead of sitting in the car with Mother, she merely pointed at the windscreen and mouthed "walk".  

So I walked. And suddenly my younger sister appeared, out of nowhere, grinning from ear to ear as she approached me, arms outstretched.  Mother had obviously arranged this 'chance' meeting between us.  And, once we were both safely inside the mini, she explained that Viv would lunch with us and then she and I would go shopping to purchase my travelling 'wardrobe' and other "Grand Tour" needs. 

The Shopping Trip
After a delicious lunch of catching up on my sister's news and views over delightful French cuisine, Mom chauffered Viv and me to Regent Street. There we had the entire afternoon to shop, and the best shops in the world at our disposal, within easy walking distance!

Regent Street, London

roger4336 / Foter.com / CC BY-SA

I was, secretly, very relieved to be searching for clothes with my sister, instead of Mother. During our childhood, our Mother's clothing choices for us were on the conservative side and entirely inappropriate for teenagers who had been raised in England during the fashionable, swinging 60s.

My sister had wisely ignored Mom's grooming, studying modern fashion trends instead. From her early teens, she designed and then created her own stylish clothing choices. I had always admired my sister, Viv's fashion sense, and so was more than delighted to spend the afternoon with her.

As expected, Viv was both efficient and diligent about choosing the correct attire for me.  Three hours later I emerged with all that a lady could possibly need for a 3-month tour of Europe that would include browsing Europes many museums and art galleries, hiking in Bavaria, vising family in Scandinavia and sightseeing whilst cruising the Greek Isles!  Yes, I had everything, except one all-purpose skirt.

Travel Wardrobe:

My big ticket item was a navy blue gaberdine Burberry trench coat, with a detachable hood - for those unexpected mountain squalls.  Though it never encountered a drop of rain during my entire trip, this coat was my most valuable purchase in a myriad ways - as you will discover in future chapters!

Burberry Trench Coat 1976

photo by kind courtesy of  www.etsy.com/listing/82835351

Footwear
Any shoe, sneaker or sandal had to be as lightweight, practical and elegant as possible. In addition to being physically able to run for trains while carrying a 30lb back pack, I also needed to climb  mountain trails in Leichtenstein, sit in a concert-hall in Vienna, dance wildly in Paris, and tour Athens.  I thus required the spring of a sneaker, the sturdiness of a hiking boot and the romance and sparkle of a dancing shoe. And clearly, the qualites I sought could not be found in one single pair.

With my new, lightweight trench coat in tow, I eventually decided on three quality pairs of foot-gear.

• Heavy duty sneakers would negotiate trails, shopping trips, and museums.
• Flat leather sandals for seated travel, casual occasions, indoors, or on the beach.
• One pair of navy blue, open-toed sling-backs, with 3" heels for dancing or special occasions.   If sparkle was necessary, I'd decorate each shoe with a clip-on rhinestone earring.  

My blue suede shoes

photo by kind courtesy www.colehaan.com

My colour theme was to be navy and white, with an accent of peppermint green. So the purchase of my classic coat and selection of sensible shoes were quickly followed by the purchase of appropriate separates to mix and match according to activity and mood.

And after a refreshing cup of tea, my sister and I shopped for those ever-important accessories.  Scarves, costume jewelry, beret, gloves and even nail polish must all coordinate.  Happily, my sister was well versed in all the details that can transform even the simplest outfit into a knock-out. 

Vivienne did me proud!  We were bone-weary but very happy that the day had gone so swimmingly.  At  5pm, Mom and John arrived to drive Viv to the station for her train back to her Luton home. I bid my sister a fond farewell and then napped while John and Mom chauffeured me back to Buckinghamshire.

Friday June 4: Domestic Day in Buckinghamshire

Had my hair cut, and got my antihistamine prescription, did my laundry, wrote postcards, chatted with mom, ate pizza and played Scrabble. Still very jet-lagged.

Saturday June 5: to London Crematorium with family 

I shopped at Mothercare the played the piano at home. Viv, husband Ron, Mom and I drove to Crematorium to honour Dad, who died on this date in 1964. This Golders Green Crematorium is the site of Amy Winehouse's creamtion.  Others cremated here inclue Keith Moon of The Who, Sigmund Freud and Bram Stoker. Dad's got interesting souls there to keep him company.

Hoop Lane Crematorium from 1976

photo by kind courtesy of http://www.zimbio.com

We all shared supper with relatives in Finchley then my Mother, sister and brother-in-law left, while I remained in London with my Uncle and his family. 

Sunday June 6: from London to Peterborough and back again

Travelled with Finchley family to Peterborough where 9-year old Cheryl and I went for a cycle ride in LongthorpeWoods. 

Pepperpot supper in garden was followed by 1/2 game of Risk with the children.  I then travelled back to London with Lilian at 11pm

photo by kind courtesy of www.etsy.com/listing/101770880

Monday June 7: to best friend in Ashford

After breakfast, Lilian drove me to the North Circular Road. Thumbed a ride to Ashford where I stayed overnight with girlhood friend, now single Mom, Gloria, my 8-year old twin God-daughters and their brother. 

Tuesday June 8 to sister and family in Luton

I hitch-hiked to Luton via M1 and my ride treated me to a pub garden lunch at The Farmer's Boy pub in Dunstable.  Later that same day, I took Viv and Ron out for steak dinner at Red Lion hotel and pub, while Ron bought the drinks.

photo by kind courtesy of www.theredlionhotel.net

We Played cards till 2am, then I browsed my sister’s photo album before finally able to sleep.

Wednesday June 9:  Luton

Enjoyed time with my sister in her town and country home, where we rescued a sparrow and a pheasant chick.  

photo by kind courtesy of www.treknature.com/gallery/photo169068.htm

Later we successfully shopped for my skirt - the only item missing after my Grand Tour shopping trip in central London.

Thursday June 10: Luton to London, then leafy Bucks.

Caught 6.30am ride from Luton to London with Ron then rode the rush hour Tube to visit with my former work-mates at the Govt. offices at Waterloo. 

Purchased Youth Hostel Association card that would allow me more affordable accommodation on my upcoming Grand Tour. I then took the tube to Sloan Square for a reunion with my old school friend, Peggy, then better known as the model, Melissa.

We enjoyed a delicatessen lunch courtesy of Solle from Guys and Dolls and caught up on more of each other's news whilst walking up and down Kings Road in Chelsea.

photo by kind courtesy of www.lth-hotel.com/images/london-guide/london_shopping/Kings_road.jpg

At 2pm, I bussed to Hangar Lane and then hitch-hiked to wonderful welcome at Mom's home in Buckinghamshire.

Friday June 11: Buckinghamshire to Peterborough family

I visited the hairdressers while John studied for his exam. Bought travel supplies from chemist then returned home around noon.  After lunch, I hitched to Peterborough to spend the weekend with my Uncle and his family.

Saturday June 12: Peterborough

Uncle took me to his work club for lunch.  Later, the adults attended the Church fete and the evening disco with the children. And still later, we enjoyed drinks at the club without the children.

Klondike Board Game 1976

photo by kind courtesy of http://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/klondike-gold-rush-board-game-gamma-172407475

Sunday June 13: Peterborough

Simon and his friend played Klondike board-game with me. Then I borrowed Simon's bike to explore area till tea time.  Cheryl was away all day.  Uncle and Aunt spent day together after a week's absence, as Lilian stayed in London, working during the week.

Monday June 14: back to London and Buckinghamshire

Lilian, the kids and I drove back to London so that Simon and Cheryl could attend school.  Later, I hitched via the North Circular Road to Buckinghamshire to spend some more time with Mom and John.

Tuesday June 15: Domestic Day and Neighbourly Visit

Domestic morning, washed and set hair, played variations of Patience (Solitaire) card games that Viv taught me. Then made lunch for John and self and later on visited Mom' neighbour for tea and delicious home-made scones. Returned at 5pm and made herb-roasted chicken for Mom, John and myself.

Home made scones and tea

photo by kind courtesy of: http://www.2stews.com/2009/12/please-come-for-tea-and-scones.html

Wednesday June 16: to London for Donna then back to Bucks.

I hitched a ride to Villiers Street in London, where I purchased a Youth Hostel Association card for my travel companion. John and I enjoyed a post-exam lunch before we greeted my travel-mate, Donna, and chauffeured her home to Buckinghamshire from Victoria Station. Donna met Mom, had tea and went directly to bed after supper and a bath.  

Thursday June 17: Last minute pre-trip purchases in Bucks

Donna and I packed and sorted our wares in readiness for trip. At 3pm, we cashed some traveller's cheques then John drove all four of us to Wycombe to shop: Donna wanted to buy a coat, Mom and John were looking for a new fridge. And I made the proprietors of Boots the Chemist very happy indeed.

We returned home via the hospital, for my allergy shot, then watched John's European slideshow which proved most helpful in the final hours of our pre-journey planning.

NEXT WEEK!

June 18-20

Encountering Eurail Trains and exorbitant 

exchange rates from England through

France, 
Germany 
Denmark  

Sweden
GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE - June 18-20 ENGLAND TO SWEDEN

GRAND TOUR of EUROPE: June 1-2 Vancouver, Canada to Buckinghamshire, England

dep. Vancouver June 1, arr. Gatwick June 2, 1976
4765 miles (7645km)

Vancouver Canada to Buckinghamshire, UK
The plane was filled to capacity with mostly adult holidaymakers and older students embarking on a European summer vacation.  On the surface, our flight promised to be quite ordinary, but this particular transatlantic trip was anything but! 

Fraught with difficulties

Our plane’s water supplies had been improperly replenished between flights, and nobody had noticed.  Our drinking and bathroom water had both run dry before we'd cleared even British Columbia’s air space. Adding insult to injury, neither stereo headsets nor movies had been brought aboard our hapless flight. 

photo by kind courtesy of Wikipedia.com

We were most disgruntled travellers!  And with a total of 8 hours of being forced to endure such shabby treatment, we became more indignant by the hour.   

Laker's Solution
Sensing our dissatisfaction, the sullen crew sheepishly offered Laker Air’s sincere apologies for our inconvenience – along with free liquor for all adult passengers, for the duration of the trip.  
At least we'd feel no pain!

Two hours and several drinks later, we were served an unappealing meal with an equally unsavory announcement: the bar had run dry of both rum and gin.  But happily, though the whisky and vodka would not last long, plentiful soft drinks were available. 

Loud and incessant grumbling promptly ensued.  

How much more could Laker torture us? 

The Passenger's Solution
To prevent anarchy, Mark, my inventive seat-mate challenged each passenger to a tongue-in-cheek limerick contest about the “joys and advantages” of flying with Laker Airlines. The devious creativity of this exercise kept saner minds occupied, which allowed the flight crew time to attend to the more belligerent travellers.  I decided that 

Mark was my first good omen for my forthcoming trip.

When the limericks were complete, they were duly passed, seat by seat, to Mark who then read out each one aloud, for all to hear.  His resonant tones and theatrical delivery presented each limerick in style.  And the eventual winner was decided by applause and laughter.  
This was my contribution...

Fly to UK with Freddie Laker

And you're making a HUGE mistak-e

First, the water runs dry,

Then bland food makes you cry

And infrequent drinks make your head ach-e!

As Mark was busy projecting his voice so the whole plane could hear him, I fashioned a crown from paper dinner napkins, and later we both held a “coronation” ceremony for the eventual winner.  This and other 'group entertainments' helped to alleviate our boredom for the several hours it took to fly across Canada's endless frozen north. 

Even though we passengers were having a blast and steadily getting more inebriated drinking whatever liquor was still available,  I imagine that, for our beleaguered crew, it was a very long flight indeed. 

Happy Landings
Much to the delight of everyone on board, our plane caught a tail wind over Baffin Island! We briskly rode the jet stream across Greenland, and catapulted into Britain to arrive at Gatwick over an hour earlier than scheduled. 

News of our bedevilled flight must have reached the eyes and ears of the airport authorities, because we passengers were  – uncharacteristically – shepherded through British Customs in less than 30 minutes.  Not one bag was searched!!  I was thus ignobly ejected into the Arrivals area of Gatwick a full 90 minutes before my family would arrive to chauffeur me home. 

Caffeine Please! 
Having remained awake drinking the flight's tiny bottles of spirits while helping to maintain sanity aboard, I was weary, somewhat hung-over and in desperate need of caffeine. Even though it meant risking airport coffee in a country whose national drink is tea, only caffeine would do!

In sudden horror, I realized that I had no British currency on me, and the airport bank had not yet opened for the day. What to do, what to do?!  

photo by kind courtesy of creattica.com

In desperation, I caught the eye of a kindly looking older gentleman, and asked him if he would be so kind as to treat me to a cup of coffee, since I had no English money but needed to sober up in a hurry.  He not only shared several cups of coffee with me, but also listened politely as I described my bizarre “Laker” flight.

An hour or so later, satisfied that I was capable of handling myself without further incident, he left me to my own devices.  I decided that my rescuer was  a most chivalrous knight, and that 

his kindness was a second good omen 

for my forthcoming EurRail adventure  

I usually get 3 such omens before important events!

Mother makes an entrance
My head was almost clear when Mother arrived, a mere 2 hours later than expected.   There was something oddly comforting in knowing that even my 3-year absence from England had not in the least improved her punctuality.

Gatwick to Hazlemere, Buckinghamshire

27 miles (67km)

En route home, we stopped at a Little Chef Restaurant for lunch, which Mom and John seemed to enjoy. As my stomach was still lurching from the flight, I refrained from eating anything till it settled. After battling traffic for a few hours, we eventually arrived at our Buckinghamshire home, just in time for tea.

photo by kind courtesy of worldoftak.ning.com

The Importance of Being Darjeeling
Tea is revered in my Mother's household. Whenever welcoming a prestigious guest - or, in my case, the prodigal daughter - the best china tea service and silverware was always used. Having spent the previous three years in what Britons like to call 'the Colonies', it gladdened my heart to see that Mama still retained England's olde worlde customs.

photo by kind courtesy of afternoonteatable.com

Mother moved to England, and became a permanent British citizen in 1952. And now, she was welcoming me home for the first time since I emigrated to Canada. Within an hour of our arrival in Buckinghamshire, she had indulged me with neat triangles of crustless cucumber sandwiches, sliced angel cake and a quantity of delicious Bourbon biscuits. Along with these delectable treats, she also served Indian tea so strong you could stand a spoon up in it!

It might have been the relief of ending 16 hours of travelling that caused my appetite to return.  Or perhaps it was the thoughtful splendour and charm of Mom's English teatime table, for she had procured  all my childhood favourite foods to welcome me home.  

Good omen number 3 was now fulfilled which

boded well for my forthcoming adventure!

1973-1976 
The tumultuous beginnings of my relationship with my Canadian sweetheart had evolved into a snail-mail, long-distance, summer romance. He had returned to Britain in the Fall and asked me to marry him.

Our Valentine's Day marriage and my emigration from UK to Canada, had shocked my family.

We had married in London and had a 48-hour honeymoon in Brighton before he left for Canada, leaving me to complete my medical and say my goodbyes to colleagues, friends and family. Having too little time to sell my belongings, I simply gave away my lifetime's accumulation of 'stuff'. The surprise and delight on the faces of the recipients gladdened my heart, and made the whole process much easier than I'd feared. So, 3 weeks later, when I emigrated to join my groom in Vancouver, I was carrying only 2 suitcases and a treasured original oil painting.

I spent 1973 trying to be "The Good Wife", but - to my chagrin - soon discovered that my new husband and I had completely different views about life.  Surpringly, I had genuinely welcomed the challenge of integration, of understanding my in-laws and of learning the ways of my new country.  But despite the seriousness of our wedding vows, my husband later confessed to marrying me only to prevent my dating anyone else. He neither wanted nor needed, a permanent commitment with me. At first devastated by his announcement, I eventually resolved to make the most of a less than stellar situation.

So, in Autumn 1974, I enrolled in Vancouver's Simon Fraser University, as a full time student.  I loved the mental discipline of learning new material.  But my soul deeply craved the avant guard element that had been the heartbeat of my London existence, but was absent from my more sedate Canadian life.

photo of Simon Fraser University by Christobelle in 2010

At University, I thus gravitated toward Bohemian types with razor-sharp minds juxtaposed by a zany wit. Those who recognized a kindred spirit in me also devoured books, loved classical music, indulged in "Be-Ins" "Theatre in the Park" and other artistic weekend excursions.

My husband's mood grew darker and more brooding as I spread my mental wings and began to fly!  My love was simply not strong enough to 'save' our marriage. So we separated in May 1975, almost amicably.

photo by kind courtesy of www.guarding.co.uk

I was then free to do my own bidding. But that freedom demanded a full-time job so I could eat and keep a roof over my head. My scholarships and bursaries did not cover everyday living costs.

Night classes at SFU, after a full day of work in the downtown sector, provided me with regular academic infusions. And, more importantly, introduced me to a new people, who gave my life depth and filled it with humour.

The rush-hour bus commute from downtown Vancouver to the campus on Burnaby Mountain was crazy in those pre-Skytrain days.  I was the one strap-hanging and catching up with my reading assignments during the 90-minute journey. Of course, after the insanity that was London Transport, I welcomed busses that were clean and ran on time.

SFU operates on a trimester system, so I was able to maintain my small connection with sanity, throughout the glorious summer months. I revelled in the beautiful mountain view that is visible from many parts of the campus, and also enjoyed the modern award-winning architecture of the 7-year old university.

Despite my dedication to my formal education, it was my self-taught job skills that reaped the best and most unexpected benefits. My bosses discovered that huge, clunking computers didn't scare me. So they  offered me a generous financial package to remain in their employ for the entire year that it would take for them to pack up the whole company and move to Ontario. They offered, but I declined a position at Head Office, in Toronto. My soul belonged in the west and I was totally in love with my new province!

British Columbia had extended me an opportunity 
that would take much hard work and perseverence

but promised to be a lot of fun 

I blessed my good fortune!  

In addition to three academic evening courses, I familiarized myself with the brand new computer that my company had purchased prior to their cross-country move. I was part of the team that made sure important company documents were magnetically backed up. As a result, 1975-6 proved to be an extremely busy and highly successful year of learning for me.

With proper economies, and my end of job severance package, I calculated that I would be able to indulge my dream of travelling overland throughout the continent of Europe.  For the first time since arriving in Canada, I felt like a woman in charge of my own destiny!  How ironic that my first concrete travel plan involved leaving my beloved chosen country. But, I definitely return...for the Fall Trimester.

My difficult and often lonely marriage had been a blessing in disguise. It had brought me to Canada, where I immediately felt that I'd finally "arrived home" - a feeling I'd first experienced in Alhambra during my 1972 trip to Morocco.  

At 26, I had learned that I could survive on a new continent, without the support of family, and despite the treachery of some who proclaimed friendship but whose actions were those of enemies. Though their untrue words and cruel actions had wounded me at the time...

My life 

now resembled

a  plant 

s

t

r

e

t

 c

 h

 i

 n

 g 

through cracks in the asphalt 
towards the warm sun for the 
first time.  And suddenly, 
I realized  how much  my 
entire being needed the 
warmth of that sunshine

Making Decisions
So, I put together a plan to travel all over Europe in the summer of 1976.
Below are my decisions:

• traded my spacious one-bedroom apartment, close to work, for the cramped quarters of shared digs, closer to the University. I thus travelled less far in darkness after my evening classes.
• allocated my accommodation savings towards buying my return plane ticket to London, UK.   
• purchased the book "Europe on $10 a day" and made a list of countries and towns to see.
• pre-purchased a second plane ticket with hotel, in northern Sweden, to see an iron mine.
• pre-paid a luxurious 3-day cruise to the Greek Islands in July

The die was cast once I had committed

time, energy - and money - to my dream!

Travel Plans

photo by kind courtesy of inkwells.net

My mode of travel was to be via EuRail, not because I loved train travel, but because it was economical, and frequently the quickest way to travel from town to town within countries in Europe.

Prior experience of British Rail's delays and breakdowns had negatively coloured my expectations of EuRail.  But, with few choices available for student paupers, I staunchly decided to be brave and hope for the best!

My SFU student card permitted me to purchase a cheaper second-class EuRail pass. But since I anticipated spending hundreds of hours on trains in Europe, I treated myself to the 'luxury' of first class upholstery and seat suspension.  Unknowingly, I had made a very wise decision.

Phone calls
The hallway phone began to ring shortly after Mother had poured my third cup of tea, as old friends and family members welcomed me back home to England. Having abandonned the comfort and familiarity of the country that had been my home for 20 years, I soon discovered that others knew as little about my new homeland as I once had - before I'd emigrated.

But though I had grown to love my new province and country, I was shocked to realize how deeply my leaving had impacted others. To comfort and reassure them, I told them about my life in Canada.

*    *    *    *

Beautiful British Columbia

photo by kind courtesy of bcpowersports.com

British Columbia, to the west of the Rocky Mountains, is a mountainous province, filled with picturesque lakes and rivers thanks to the effects of plate tectonics.  Its broad valleys were gouged out during the Ice Age.  And, for over 20,000 years, its many terrains were inhabited by bands of Native People, who walked gently upon it and left only footprints.

On BC's prairies and northern region, the harsh climate imposes its iron will upon all who live there.  Ignore it and you die.  Fail to stock your winter pantry and you will go hungry for months on end.   Fail to procure firewood, warm parkas and boots for winter and you will freeze.

photo by kind courtesy of maijasmommymoments.com

The people who live this way, tend to be straightforward and practical, in both speech and habit. They are good neighbours, when someone is in need, not out of pity, but simply because it would be unthinkable to watch your neighbour die.

Captain Cook was the first known white man to see British Columbia a mere 200 years ago, when he sailed the west coast of North America, looking for a North-West sea Passage.  Explorers and government agents later followed the overland route, travelling along the same river that Scottish Simon Fraser traced, from its source to the ocean. The mighty Fraser River that bisects the province bears his name.

British Columbia, though politically younger and less sophisticated than England, has its own charms, and I had grown to love being there.  Her people were mountain people, observers of ever changing weather patterns, and the movement of animals, as they hunted, fished and farmed the land.  With nature in abundance, BC's main industries were resource based: Forestry, Fishing, Mining and Farming.  Life in Canada was very different from my experience of life in industrial Britain. Here, Nature cannot be subdued, only respected.

My BC university built in 1967 atop Burnaby Mountain, near Vancouver, boasted a magnificent view of the Coastal Mountains and the temperate rain-forest that covered them.  I loved to walk the trails around the campus because my heart truly felt 'at home' amongst those tall evergreen trees.  So much so, that I had gallantly taken a skiing course the previous winter.

photo by kind courtesy of www.allposters.com

But sad to say, I was absolutely dreadful at skiing! Any serious mountain escapades would need to be conducted during the other three seasons.  Winter was definitely not my season! 

*    *    *    *

By the time I finished chatting on the phone, sharing my adventures and listening to those of my callers, both my body and mind were spent and begging for sleep.  So I skipped supper, took a long, hot shower and headed to bed early.  

Mother was to drive me into London the next day, and with the many surprises in store, I would need an undisturbed and restful sleep.

Coming Soon!

June 3 - 17  
England to France
At the British Museum
Shopping in Regent Street
Getting about in Britain

Leaving for the Continent

GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE - June 3-17 ENGLAND TO FRANCE