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Chapter Five - Durban to London

Graham and I did not plan to stay in England for long as it was America in which we were interested and I thought of England as a very dreary place. This was based on some of the black and white war time films where English girls had headscarves round their heads, and lived in tiny rooms with their stockings drying over strings hung across the fireplace and trains rattling past their windows. It always seemed to be grey. Graham and I were very impractical. I knew I would be able to get a job as a shorthand typist as this type of work was plentiful, but at first Graham had no idea what he would do. He had few qualifications, and had worked as a sort of receptionist in a car salesroom. But before we left Durban, things had changed.

Whilst up in Johannesburg, my parents had gone to a free lecture on Scientology, a new cult idea from America. They told us about it and later we went to the first free meeting in Durban. Graham was very interested and the people there were keen to recruit him. He could always get money from the family trust to do any study or take any course, so he started the initial course and they told him he could just continue from where he had left off, as soon as he reached London. Then he would work at the London centre when he had reached the requisite level.

So this is what he did. He only had about a further two weeks to go on his course when we left Durban, so we knew he would soon be earning money in London.

Flying was very expensive then. Everyone went to England on the mailboat which ran every week on a Thursday. Loads of people used to see these ships off and I had often been to see people off in the past. The band played 'Will ye no come back again?' and streamers were thrown across the widening gap as the ship moved away from the wharf. It took about three weeks to get to England because you spent a few days in Cape Town on the way, and also first had a day in East London (a coastal town in South Africa) and another in Port Elizabeth.

On the day we left Durban, I again wore my white wedding dress. It was a beautiful day and I was very excited. Many friends came on board for drinks before the ship the 'Winchester Castle' sailed. It really did not occur to me that I might not see my parents and friends again. I just somehow imagined we would all come and go and visit and I also thought that once in America my parents would join us there. But when the ship moved away and I saw all those familiar faces becoming smaller and smaller on the wharf, I had my first inkling of what we were doing and my first pangs of nostalgia, guilt and fear.

It seems on re-reading what I have written, that my mother was the principal person in my life, it is her poems, opinions and advice which are repeatedly mentioned. My father appears to be a shadowy person of lesser significance. This is by no means the way it was. I absolutely adored my father though perhaps at the time, I did not ever put my feelings into words, even to myself. He was a deep, sad sort of man who had had a difficult start to his life.

He was one of four boys, a second family to his mother, whose first husband had been a brute who illtreated her. She had run away from him, taking with her, her three daughters, two of whom later became nuns. She went to Durban and ran a boarding house for Catholic men, and there she met her second husband, my grandfather. Well, of course, he was not her husband to begin with, as she was still married, so all four boys were born illegitimate which must have been a terrible stigma in those Edwardian days.
When they were teenagers, she married my grandfather as her previous husband had died and from then on, the boys had proper birth certificates. All this I found out later from one of the nuns who had written out a sort of brief family history.

In those early days in Durban, the white children played with the Zulu children and this is how my father had become such a Zulu linguist. Perhaps, who knows, the white children shunned him because of his dubious background. He was totally of Irish stock. His mother was descended from people who had fled the potato famine and reached the Cape somehow. His father though born in Newcastle on Tyne, was also of totally Irish descent. However my father looked Jewish, rabbis used to come up to him and say things in Hebrew. He had a large nose and swarthy colouring. My mother thought it must be something to do with the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel. He loved the picturesque Zulu rhetoric and just as Zulus themselves did, he would shout a conversation to a Zulu on the other side of a busy wide road as they walked along. And they would both laugh and be unselfconscious about the fact that no one else behaved in this way. Later on, he started teaching white people Zulu at evening classes at the Technical College. They had to know how to communicate with their servants and staff. He was not a patient or natural teacher and used to complain bitterly about his pupils. 'They are so stupid' he would say, 'they just don't listen'. He loved taking me out and was a really doting father, and when I was younger, we often went on long walks together while my mother remained at home, her head buried in one of her occult books.

We used to walk along the railway lines holding hands, the gauge is narrower in South Africa than in England and it was easy to reach each other. He knew the times of the rare trains and anyway one could feel the vibration on the rails for a long time ahead. Then when the train passed, we would wave at the passengers from the side of the line. We would end up at Kloof, a quiet pretty little place outside Durban and then he would buy me a drink and a cake at the hotel there. We also often walked around the Docks and he would tell me all about the flags of different nations and about the tonnage of ships, and again the day would end delightfully in a little cafe at the end of the Docks, near a place called The Point, with my favourite green Suncrush drink and a cake. Once he took me on a holiday to Cape Town and looked after me for two weeks until we met my mother in Johannesburg. She had been working and was unable to get away at the same time. He had no idea how to look after an eleven-year old, especially one who was not particularly capable or mature. Neither of us ever combed my hair properly and it got into terrible tangles, which took a long time to correct. He let me have my way about
food and we ate out, I had nothing but sausage, egg and chip type meals, chocolates, sweets and cakes. When we met my mother, she was horrified at my pasty spotty face and untidy appearance. But I had a wonderful time.

There was a time later when my father got promoted at work and had to apply the Pass Laws and report directly to Dr. Verwoerd in the Government. Because of his knowledge of Zulu, he could question all the applicants for Passes and either permit or refuse people from the country, entry to work in Durban. Even now, more than twenty years after his death, I get tears in my eyes just suddenly thinking about him, perhaps whilst sitting on a bus or walking in a park.

I think how interested, pleased and most of all, surprised he would have been about the good changes that have taken place in South Africa, the euphoria at the time of the first nationwide elections, and the ending of the Pass Laws and Immorality Laws. And how sad he would have been about the terrible rise in crime and general lawlessness there now, which has made it a terrifying place for many decent blacks and whites alike, despite the beautiful climate and low property costs. Only recently I received a letter from a Zulu lady who used to work for my mother, and I quote 'Here in Durban is hard to stay even the South Africa as a whole. Too much crimes. Here is not safe but we stay. We cannot do otherwise'.

One thing that really annoyed my mother concerning my father was that he always got thanked for things she had brought about or arranged. Once she planned a Christmas tree and a party for the Zulu children connected with employees of the Durban Corporation, and she worked slavishly, seeking donations from all her friends. She made, repaired and bought toys, parcelled up sweets and decorated the tree. And it was my father who was thanked profusely when the party ended for giving such a wonderful day to the children.

On another occasion, she heard groaning coming from the bedroom of a young man in the hotel, through his window which faced on to the long verandah. This was in the middle of the night. She woke my father who was most annoyed and wanted to leave things until the morning. She insisted however that something was very wrong and made my father put his dressing gown on and go downstairs with her to wake the manager, who would have a duplicate key.

The young chap was very ill and had to be taken to hospital. A few weeks later, my father received a letter from the young man's parents, saying "How can we ever repay you, Mr Ford, for saving our son's life….."

Returning to our sea voyage in 1959, Graham and I both found it very boring. We were put at a table for four in the dining room with two very dreary English people from up North with a baby. Perhaps the organisers of the dining plans thought, 'here are two couples, put them together' but we could not have been more ill assorted. They had very little sense of humour and when there were bursts of laughter from the long centre table near us, the wife said 'Someone must be telling dirty jokes'. She obviously could see no other possible reason for merriment. We knew nothing about babies or children and were not interested. There's only one other thing I remember them telling us and that is that potatoes tasted so much nicer in England. They were right actually. We were used to exercise and skating and apart from table tennis and deck quoits, there was not much to do that we liked.

The Fancy Dress competition was quite fun. People obviously had to use things they had with them and be creative. Graham and I went as artist and model - he wore my bathing costume and had a ring of flowers round his head and I put on an old loose shirt he used for painting and his trousers and held my oil palette and brush, which for some crazy reason was with us in the cabin. I also wore a beret, but don't ask me where I got it from. I just can't imagine! There was also a talent contest which I entered. I sang 'Getting to know you' and they put me on first as a warm-up. It was won by a shy lady with a sweet voice who sang 'This is my Lovely Day' from 'Bless the Bride'. The swimming pool had been closed due to an outbreak of athlete's foot. At night there were films, dances and competitions which were all right, but on the whole the days dragged and the most interesting thing was the food. Straight after lunch you started looking forward to the excitement of going in to dinner, and in those days neither of us had to worry about our weight!

By the time we reached Cape Town, we had very little money left, as we had spent so much on incidentals, and we realised we would have to be more careful. We stopped off at Las Palmas too. I found it quite frightening, the way the vendors pushed forward and tried to sell their wares in the narrow crowded streets. We had no money to waste on trifles and did not think much of the place at all. Perhaps today I would feel differently.

On the ship I studied maps of London avidly. I have always been interested in places and wanted to be able to find my way about. Soon I could actually draw a map of the centre of London from memory, more or less bounded by Marylebone Road, Tottenham Court Road, Edgware Road, Picadilly, Hyde Park, and then Knightsbridge down to Kensington and Earl's Court where Sue had booked us in to a bedsitter in the same building as she was in. It seemed Dave had gone on to Canada and Sue was alone in London.

When we arrived in Southampton Docks at the end of August 1959, it had been and still was one of the most glorious summers England had ever had. We docked in the morning and there was a bright blue sky, it was warm and sunny. We had no problems with Customs, and soon boarded the train for Waterloo. We travelled First Class as we thought one had to. In South Africa only the blacks went Third Class and we thought it safer to go First Class until we found out the English rules. By the time we arrived in London, we had one week's rent and £5, which even in those days was not a lot with which to start a new life!

Elsie and Bill met us at Waterloo Station and we took a taxi to Cromwell Road in Earl's Court. I remember feeling a bit irritated when they pointed out to me various famous landmarks like Westminster Bridge, Big Ben, The River Thames and Westminster Abbey which I obviously recognised for myself and also understood the route we followed as I had studied the map so thoroughly, but they were only being kind. I had not however anticipated the beautiful terraces of white regency buildings and the lovely wide road and the trees along it. Our first bedsitter was huge and beautiful and one whole wall was covered by a mirror. It must have originally been some posh reception room. It cost five guineas a week which proved to be an enormous amount when my first salary was just over £8 in my hand after tax and insurance. There was a large window at the back of the room which looked down into the basement courtyard. There was a sort of kitchen corner with a table, a small gas ring and a washbasin. The bathroom was quite near, just along the passage.

Sue was at work at a temp job in Knightsbridge, but came home later in the afternoon and joined us. Sue's room was very small and up on the second floor of the building. Her rent was only £3 a week. Elsie had explained about filling the gas meter with shillings, and had showed me how to light the gas. It was all an amazing new adventure. Sue took us shopping to one of the early supermarkets that were starting to pop up at about this time. It was close to Earl's Court Station and she told me to buy mince as it was cheaper than other meat. You have to remember that I had never cooked anything in my whole life. Even in the flat over the past year, my mother plus a servant had prepared the meals. I literally did not know how to boil the proverbial egg. But meat was plentiful and cheap in South Africa so I expected to eat meals that were mainly
meat-based. I remember I bought a plastic butter dish that day and Sue said once I had been there a while and realised what it cost to eat, I would no longer worry about extravagances like butter dishes! Sue showed me how to cook mince in a frying pan and how to peel potatoes and scrape carrots. She also pointed out tinned meals one could buy cheaply like Irish Stew for 1/9d and baked beans. I knew about instant coffee but had nothing to do with tea until teabags became generally used. Later on, when Sue left for Canada to join Dave, she left us her Baby Belling cooker and then I was able to turn the mince into proper shepherd's pie, my favourite from junior school days as we now had a small oven. We were not permitted to use this by the way, as there was no meter for the electricity.

After the Polish landlord told me he 'had objection' to the cooker, we had to hide it every day in a built in cupboard covered in coats. This was quite a problem as we had to wait for it to cool down before we were able to go out. The rooms were serviced, I suppose because the area was so full of South Africans who were not used to coping with housework, so I knew a cleaner/spy came into the room every day. Sue took us out that weekend, it was a tour of the underground, and she showed us how to understand the tube map, and the colours of the various lines, and where the interchanges were.

While we travelled about, she told us an amazing secret. She and Dave had a baby of five months old. They had not dared to tell her parents and had got married at Kensington Registry Office in the May as soon as she turned twenty one. The baby, Penny, was being cared for by a childminder in the back streets of Notting Hill, and she took me to see her the next day. Graham did not want to go as he wanted to go and speak to the Scientology people in Fitzroy Street.

I was terribly shocked, I must admit, remembering all my mother's horror stories about girls who had got into trouble, but Sue seemed happy enough and was looking forward to joining Dave in a few weeks with the baby, as soon as he found a job and somewhere to live in Canada. She planned that they would pose for supposed wedding photos outside a church and tell their parents they had married there. When I asked her how she would explain about the baby, she said they would say she was adopted! When I saw Penny, (the spitting image of Dave by the way), she was so lovely, I was quite captivated. Although I always liked children, I had never before had the slightest interest in small babies, but at that moment, I thought that maybe I wouldn't mind having one of those one day!

We had arrived in London on the Friday of the August Bank Holiday weekend. On the Saturday I had gone to see the baby and on Sunday, we were planning to go out exploring. Graham looked out the back window and saw a wall dividing the buildings that he could reach from the window ledge. He climbed out and sat on it, surveying all the backs of the other houses and yards with fascination. From inside the room I heard a cry and a noise and he had disappeared into the basement yard below. He had forgotten
that the bricks of which the wall was composed were Georgian bricks and no longer modern and sound. I gazed down at him in horror and saw a man bending over him. I hurried down to the basement, and found that this man was luckily an Egyptian doctor, who lived in the basement room and must have been surprised to see a body hurtling past his window. He bandaged Graham's leg and said he was not badly hurt but must rest for a few days. This meant he could not continue with his Scientology course immediately and it would be even longer before he could earn anything.

I had to wait until the Tuesday to go to an employment agency, but in those days, one almost always got a job immediately and I was placed as a secretary at the Distressed Gentlefolks' Aid Association in Kensington. I could walk there so it saved on fares as well. The financial situation was pretty desperate and became more so as the nights turned chilly and for the first time in our lives, we needed heating and had to feed the gas meter, not only for cooking, but in order to keep warm as well.

Even after Graham started working for the Scientologists, things did not improve much. He was paid by units. If the unit was say, £1 and salary was 7 units, then he would get £7, but the unit was often less that a £1 and seldom more! At first Graham smoked his South African cigarettes, and one day when we were really hungry, he tried to sell a packet outside Earl's Court Station. People looked at us very suspiciously because they were too cheap!

When he ran out of South African cigarettes later, he continued to smoke, but I did not realise how much this cost in England. My salary with only £3 over a week (after rent) for gas and food, also often had to subsidise his fares and cigarettes! We managed to sell my engagement ring to a jeweller, but unfortunately it had not been a very expensive one in the first place. However, it helped for a few weeks.

We were pretty desperate in October when Pixie arrived. We went to meet her and borrowed £5, as she had arrived in a quite prosperous state. She had a small room in the same building as us. We moved upstairs, as rooms got cheaper as one got higher in the building, and our room and Pixie's were adjacent to each other.

On the work front, I was in an office with three other secretaries. One strangely enough eventually became my second fairy godmother, though this did not happen until several years later. All three ladies were older than I was and I realised they were very upper class. My mother would have been thrilled that I was mixing in such illustrious company. The one who I later got to know much better lived in a flat behind Harrods though I did not at that time understand the social significance of this upmarket address!

I used to go out in my lunch hour and buy a currant bun for lunch, ones with icing cost a bit more. Some were 2½d and they were the type I usually bought. The girls in the office must have noticed this rather unsubstantial lunch, because one them kept offering me her sandwiches which were in a large lunchbox and saying she just couldn't eat so many. When this happened repeatedly, I realised that she must be bringing in too many deliberately and felt rather embarrassed, but she was being so kind and was careful to make the offer appear genuine.

As I found out that people in the City were earning bigger salaries, I left Kensington very soon anyway and got a job at a branch of Odhams Press in Fleet Street concerned with educational books.

Pixie was already working at Associated Newspapers in Carmelite Street, just off Fleet Street. Clare had also recently arrived at this time and lived in a bedsitter quite near to us in Earl's Court. She also had a clerical job but I can't remember where it was.
Another secretary, Maureen, started work at Odhams on the same day as I did. This was really a good thing. We became friends straight away and together we explored Fleet Street and the City. She lived in Wembley and did not know a lot more than I did about the that area of London. We went to the department store, Nicholsons, which used to be near St Pauls Cathedral, we saw the so-called Roman Bath, the Whispering Gallery at St Pauls, the crypt at St Brides, Dr Johnson's house that was behind our building and Gamages in Holborn. There were still a few bomb sites in the City at that time.

Everything was so exciting despite the financial problems. Some weeks were better than others anyway and Maureen asked us to come to dinner at her mother's house in Wembley. This became a ritual and for months we visited her once every week and had proper food and knew what it was like to live the 'English way of life' which in those days meant having a roaring real fire in a comfortable sitting room, and a freezing dining room where you had to go to eat, though an electric fire was put in there about ten minutes before the meal. The passages were freezing and you dreaded going to the bathroom. Your arms and face would be red with the heat of the fire of course. We also saw television for the first time and the early episodes of 'Coronation Street'.

Maureen and I both loved working at Odhams. The other girls there were all great fun, especially Jackie, who was plain and overweight and with the most delightful humorous personality. She was mad about Antony Newley and dragged us all over London to see him at various venues when he appeared live before some of his early films, like 'Jazzboat'. One of her favourite expressions was 'Don't get off your bike' and she was always sunny and peacemaking. She used to ask the tealady for a 'pretty' cup of tea. Anything good she called 'pretty'. It got me derided once, when I forgot myself and asked at the greengrocers for a pretty cabbage. Jackie had a boyfriend who was quite good looking, and when she told us he was emigrating to America, we were all really sorry for her as we thought he would forget her, knowing how callow young men can be. However, it was true love because later he came back to marry her in London so her family could be present and then took her back to America with him. Maureen and I went to the wedding and were so pleased for her. Jackie, even as a bride, was not beautiful, and it was nice to know that it really is true that looks are not that important.

Graham meanwhile was totally engrossed in Scientology. I saw him before my eyes in a period of about eight weeks, turn from a gentle rather gauche young man into a confident, smooth-talking person who could actually run a course and deal with people far better educated and experienced than he was. In fact, he was enthralled with it all and once told me that he wished he could live there all the time. He believed every word they told him and did not like me to question anything at all. He said very hurtful things to me sometimes, but I am sure he only felt he was being honest. I asked if he thought we would meet again after we died, and he told me he would not see me as he would be on a higher level on the scale, due to his having progressed in Scientology. I was not against it, though I did not approve of some of the people there who to my narrow-minded soul at that time, seemed to be enjoying some of what came to be known as the 'Swinging Sixties' lifestyle before it began, as it was still only 1959.

Pixie, Clare, Graham and I went on exploring London and its surrounds, we were like four friends together, if one wanted to go out separately, and this was usually Graham, well they did. I did not really think about it all too deeply, I was too excited with life, but I suppose our marriage was not quite as it should have been even then. I made friends with a few of Graham's Scientology friends at Fitzroy Street, and I worked there on a Saturday in Reception to earn a little extra money. I often saw other cases where timid awkward people became steadily more confident and it was quite impressive.

Pixie and I bought bicycles at Petticoat Lane. Mine was fifteen shillings and hers was twenty five shillings. We were allowed to store them in the back yard at Fitzroy Street, so we used to practise riding on the building site where later the Post Office Tower was built and also on the inner roads of Regents Park. I had never ridden before and was not a very quick learner. I also kept falling off when I tried to stop. I squeezed and squeezed the bit at the side of the handlebars which I thought was the brake. When Pixie did this, she stopped but I just fell off. Later I was told that the bike had no brakes, so it wasn't really my fault. I learned to turn and try and put my feet down on the ground to stop, but never improved very much. These practice rides went on at weekends until I got pregnant the next Spring and thought the terrible falls would not be such a good idea.

But Winter came first and how exciting that was! First there was the fog! Pixie and I went to Streatham Rink after work. We did not even know the way. People were going home early from work and hurrying with scarves over their mouths. We thought it was absolutely wonderful. We went to Tooting Bec on the tube and walked all the way along the Common to the rink, as at that time we did not understand about British Rail. We thought the silhouette of trees with blurry streetlamps behind them in the mist was very beautiful. The ice rink was almost empty which made it all even better.

A few weeks later Pixie and I were in a coffee bar in Kensington, it was long and dark but when we saw against the lighted doorway little white things coming down, we both jumped up, realising it must be snow, forgot all about paying and ran to the door, Pixie shrieking 'Oh, its even lovelier than fog'! We did not however, like the unheated bathroom at the digs. I became less clean, I just couldn't bear to go in there for long.

My father, who had not written to me for months because he was just so upset he had gone into a sort of decline, recovered a bit and wrote to me at Christmas, which pleased me a lot, although my mother had always answered my letters. He also sent me some money through the bank as a Christmas present. How wonderful that was, we bought extra food, and I was able to get my photos out of Boots at last. I had been in to look at them previously, due to the kindness of a young assistant who knew I could not afford to get them out. Graham also bought a car for £15, it was an old Ford Popular. I don't know why he expected it to work perfectly, but he did, and I was very ignorant about cars. A friend of Graham's from work, Cyril, was having an affair with a married woman and needed somewhere to take her, so Graham said we would go away for the few days of Christmas and they could have our room, I believe money changed hands.

So Graham, Pixie and I all set off for Stratford on Avon. I am not sure if Graham was certain of the way, but this did not matter in the end as we had only gone about two miles when the car broke down completely. Graham said something about the fan jamming in the radiator, whatever that means! We just got out of it, left it parked at the kerb and took our suitcases and somehow reached Marylebone Station where we got a train to Stratford, via Leamington Spa. This of course took a large chunk out of our pathetic amount of money. Pixie had a contact up there who had booked her in for 3 nights into a homely B&B place. We checked in to the Rose and Crown. There were not many people there, they told us Christmas was quiet and there would be no food served except for breakfast as they had the family staying.

We all had a lovely time looking at the swans on the Avon and of course we visited Ann Hathaway's Cottage. But very soon, we all realised the money was running out and we could not possibly afford to stay a third night.

Graham went to the manager and said we would have to leave a day early, but he said we had booked for three days and had to pay anyway! This was a terrible blow. After some conferring, Pixie said if she checked out of her place, and stayed in the room with us at the Rose & Crown, we could pool our resources to pay for the extra night. We were all terribly nervous about it. We felt like hunted criminals as we sneaked her things into our room. There was a large double bed, and I slept in the middle of the three. The morning was very unnerving. I crept down early to see if Pixie could get out, but found the outside large stable-type doors locked. I realised it was very important we paid the man as until we had, we would be watched like hawks and he would want more money for Pixie if he saw her. Then it was breakfast time and obviously only two of us could go down. It was a table for four and another couple were sitting there who were quite friendly. It was rather like being in an Enid Blyton book, where children try to take food from the table to give to a secret friend hiding out in a shed. We put serviettes in our laps and made sandwiches of toast and marmalade, and dropped them on to the serviettes. After we had finished ours, we carried another cup of coffee out the dining room with us and found Pixie very nervous. She said while we had been gone, a lady had come in with clean towels, but Pixie just greeted her and didn't say anything about why she was sitting up there alone.

I took the money and went down again to find the manager. This time he took it, but everyone was now up and about and three of us could not walk down the stairs together.
I said I would go out first and walk around the corner where I could wave to them in their room if I had managed to get out the gate. Actually, no one saw me go at all and it was fine. I waved at them and waited. The funny thing was that as Graham and Pixie came together down the stairs, they met the couple we had shared the table with at breakfast. Pixie did not know this of course and brightly said 'Good morning'. Graham must have felt very embarrassed, knowing how surprised the couple must have been to see him with a different lady, and no sign of me! On the way home, my period pain started. I was particularly ill that time, mainly in the centre of Leamington Spa. The train home was crowded but I was allowed to lie in a first class compartment when the conductor saw how ill I was. I had forgotten all about Cyril and his lady friend and when we staggered gratefully into our room, they were still there, which I think was very tactless. There was an unmade bed, chocolate wrappers all over the floor, dirty dishes, and she had obviously been exploring and using some of my make-up. It was just too much, I could hardly bear to greet them, just surveyed the mess and then turned away and Pixie let me lie down in her room until I was fully recovered.

Any coldness between Cyril and me must not have lasted very long as we have been friends on and off for the last 39 years and still correspond. He has such a zany sense of humour though this must have failed him at the time when I read in the newspaper that the Scientologists had had him arrested in Germany and thrown in Jail. They were annoyed with him, I suppose this is putting it mildly, because not only had he written a book against them, but he had also been trying to de-programme people whose families wanted their relatives returned to their previous condition. Maybe here, whilst on the subject of Scientology I should say that I am not a very brave person and would not want to step on the toes of anyone in an organisation which has such strong legal powers behind it. Many dissenters have learned to their cost that its unwise to criticise, and as there were many positive and good things I learned from them and some good and lasting friendships were made with certain of their number, I think it's best to dwell on these more positive aspects.

My very closest friend in Sussex, Jenny P, is an ex-Scientologist from those early London days. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology, was one of the most powerful and amazing speakers I have ever heard. I went to an open day event once where other people spoke first and I kept dozing off. However when Ron Hubbard spoke, it was electrifying. He was funny and lively and dynamic and it was as if everyone in the audience sat up and became alert at the same time. I suppose great orators throughout history have always had this powerful effect, whether for good or bad, on their listeners.

The Spring of 1960 was wonderful for us, as I suppose Spring in England always is, for everybody! Pixie had her 21st birthday party in our bedsitter in Cromwell Road. It was full of South African émigrés and also a lot of our English friends from all our places of work. There must have been about 25 people in that room! The day after the party we moved to cheaper digs in Bayswater off Westbourne Grove. Again, the three of us were all moving to the same building. I think the rent was even less than £4 which made a wonderful difference to our finances. My weekly salary was then about £11. Moving was not easy, and Graham was not there to help. It was a Saturday and he went to Fitzroy Street as usual. Pixie and I took one taxi with suitcases and most of the stuff. Then we returned by bus to tidy up. I was wearing jeans and a top, and realised I had not packed my voluminous apple green party dress of the night before which had actually been my dress as Matron of Honour to Nova. I put it on over my jeans and covered everything with my big yellow plastic coat. At the very last minute Pixie discovered I had left a bowl of washing in soak under the bed, mainly consisting of Graham's socks. We caught another bus to get back to Bayswater and the conductor looked at us and smiled when he saw the green fluffy skirt bulging out from under my coat and over my jeans and the drained bowl of soapy washing on my lap. He said 'There must be some story behind all that,' but did not ask any questions.

We quite often saw Colleen who had a flat at Muswell Hill. Elsie had told me before she and Bill returned to South Africa, that Colleen had told her that Keith still had not got over his affection for me which was astonishing! When, before his marriage to Monica, Keith came over to London to visit his sister, he used to come and see Graham and me at Bayswater several times a week and I made shepherd's pie every time! He and Graham got on all right, I'm not sure whether Graham realised that Keith had been quite important to me, or if he knew but just didn't care.

The Odhams people all went on a beano to Southend and we could take partners. I took Graham and Keith and we all had a lovely time. On another occasion I asked a girl from work to partner Keith and all four of us went to Windsor Castle and saw the Queen's Dolls' House and other treasures.

It was not so nice coming home at night now we had to walk along Westbourne Grove as in those days, all the notice boards in shops were full of adverts for prostitutes and men were clustered around them with papers and pens in their hands. I used to keep crossing from one side of the road to the other to avoid the men who looked at every female with hopeful, hungry eyes. There was a brothel opposite us and I used to see the Madame standing downstairs in the doorway looking to see if any business was coming her way. The caretaker at our place was very wary about whom he took in as residents, and one night when I had lost my key, I knocked on the front door and he was very suspicious and did not recognise me as I usually dealt with his wife. It took some explaining before he let me in!

Graham was often at work both day and evening, so we saw very little of each other. I joined the Northern Poly Operatic Society in Holloway Road, and Pixie joined the Drama Group. All thoughts of being any sort of professional in the theatrical world had ceased much earlier than this. The previous Autumn I had spent all day at an open audition for the George Mitchell Singers. I was too honest to pretend at work that I had been ill, and so lost a day's pay. Four hundred girls were queueing round a scruffy building in Marylebone. I think four were needed. I was not heard until about 4.30 in the afternoon. I sang 'Ding dong ding a ling dong...' and they said 'Thank you' and that was that. I also took time off to go to Islington to a recording studio where they were looking for a new sort of sound in a female voice. The man was nice to me there and advised me to try getting into commercials through an agency. Later I think the unusual voice they found may have been that of Helen Shapiro.

At this time I realised I was just not made of the stuff necessary to persevere. You have to recognise your limitations. I was boringly keen on having a roof over my head and food and warmth. Losing a day's pay was a disaster as we were living hand to mouth with no bank accounts or savings to fall back on. We just lived from week to week putting the rent aside and trying to survive on the balance as best we could. A persistent thespian might have lived in a squat or begged in order to pursue their careers. I knew nothing about drama schools or grants and would not have been able to get a grant in my situation if I had. From then on, I just enjoyed performing as a happy and sociable hobby.

The show we did at the Northern Poly was 'Merrie England'. The girls from Odhams all came to see it. Jackie and the others had got hysterical in one part and had to stuff their coats in their mouths to keep quiet. It was when the heroine walked across the stage, sat singing on a log for only a moment, then suddenly jumped up, still singing, on a very high soprano note which sounded like a shriek. Someone said 'she must have sat on a pin' and that started off the giggling.

Beano to Southend

Keith and Graham

Read on... Chapter Six

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