GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER?

Over the years, Ken and I have had some fascinating experiences.

One day sometime in the 1960's, Ken called me from work (the Post Office), saying "Guess who's coming to dinner?"  He had spent the afternoon giving a tour of the Victoria Post Office to a Postal Training Officer from Los Angeles, and had now invited this fellow, his wife and their daughter, to join us for supper. My dear husband explained that our guest was a Negro and would I please explain his colour to the kids. (Remember, this was the 1960's and Victoria was not a very cosmopolitan city).

Jesse, Myrtle and their daughter Pearl were delightful guests.  Jesse was as black as the ace of spades, Myrtle was a light brown. Pearl was a gorgeous caramel blend of the two.  She looked twenty-one, even though she was only fifteen. We thoroughly enjoyed their company.

Jesse and Myrtle took us out for drinks at the Bengal Room to show their appreciation. We met them at the Empress, where they were staying (a far cry from the time when, it is said, Rochester was turned away from that hotel when he was touring with Jack Benny).

Young Pearl (later to become a model) asked for coca cola while we adults enjoyed Harvey Wallbangers (all the rage at the time).   Because she asked for a drink, the alert waiter inquired as to her age.  When she responded "fifteen" she was asked to take her cola to a table in the hall, as she was under age and could not remain in the lounge.

A few years later, we stayed with the Robinsons on one of our trips down South.  They had a lovely home complete with a swimming pool - in the shape of California!  Jesse was a very popular guy who mingled with politicians and movie stars. Marilyn Monroe was a guest at one of his pool parties.  

Jesse was extremely proud of the many Christmas cards he had received over the years from various Presidents of the United States and other dignitaries and had them prominently displayed under a glass cover.  He attended all of the Olympic games, sometimes in capacity of a committee member.

He showed us the personal gym he had in his home, saying that he wouldn't dare jog around his neighborhood.  In fact, his property was surrounded by a chain link fence and boasted two guard dogs.

Ken and I ventured out into the neighborhood to buy some wine and beer at the local liquor store.  It felt odd to be the only non-blacks.  Later on we drove to a shopping area where we hoped to buy Jesse a book by Irving Wallace ('The Man') a work of fiction about the first black president of the United States. (who knew???).  The clerk at the store laughed at us and said "people around here don't read much, you'll have to find a proper bookstore".  Everyone was very helpful and friendly but we still uncomfortable in a sea of black faces - it gave us a greater understanding of how blacks feel in the reverse situation.

While we stayed with Jesse and Myrtle, we saw the famous Watts Towers. 

These amazing structures are constructed from steel rebar, a type of concrete, wrapped with wire mesh and embedded with pieces of porcelain, glass, tile and decorated with things like bottles, ceramic tiles, sea shells, figurines, mirrors, and even milk of magnesia bottles.

One morning our hosts asked what we would like for breakfast?  We said we had heard so much about 'grits' that we would like to try some.  Myrtle, who was a much admired school teacher, cooked up a batch for us, even though she said that they never ate 'the stuff'.  (Grits are coarsely ground corn kernels).  Myrtle was always casually attired around the home, often in a Cassius Clay t-shirt and slacks.

On our last evening with the Robinsons, an old auntie, who lived with them, decorated the dining table in grand style, with a pink tablecloth, pink napkins in the wine glasses. Everything looked perfect.  

Jesse came to the table wearing a violent orange-coloured jumpsuit.  Jokingly, I said "Jesse, you are clashing with Auntie's decor".  His face lit up with glee, and off he went, returning shortly, clad in a pure white jumpsuit. We all had a good laugh.

Auntie said grace over us at her prettily decorated table, saying "God go with you on your journey home, but if anything should happen, remember, it's not God's fault!"

Sadly, both Jesse and Myrtle have left us but we fondly remember them and the lessons they taught us.

AWAY AND HOME AGAIN - TRAVELS ON THE CONTINENT

Continental memories - once in Monaco, Ken and I sauntered along the harbour, blissfully unaware that a film crew was filming the famous racing car driver, Jackie Stewart, and Ken and I were in the way!  The whole sequence had to be redone - allowing us to capture it on our video camera!

Once, leaving Rome by train, we were headed for Bari to catch the ferry for Dubrovnik.  Our compartment companion was a priest.  He treated us to an espresso and on our arrival at Bari, leapt from the train, hailed a taxi, helped unload/load our luggage and paid the taxi fare.  Then with a wave and "God bless you!" he was gone.  These are experiences one never forgets.

In Dubrovnik we were housed with a delightful couple.  Like us, they had built their own home with a loan from a bank. Each morning, the host shook our hands and gave us some sort of alcoholic drink to start the day.  One of his daughters spoke English, which was very helpful.  We loved our time there and enjoyed many walks through the walled city taking in the view of the beautiful Adriatic Sea over the red-tiled rooftops.  

Yugoslavian food was fantastic and a concert under the stars one evening made our stay in this city perfect.

Oh the memories we have - including a night in Spain spent nightclubbing (those were the days!) and acting as chaperons for one of the young waitresses at our lovely hotel.

Traveling is wonderful. Ken and I have a wealth of memories, bolstered now by re-reading the detailed diaries we kept of every trip.  It is almost like enjoying the journeys all over again, but from the comfort of home, and as we all know - there is nothing like being home in your own bed!!

AWAY AND HOME AGAIN - TRAVELS IN BRITAIN

On one of our seven trips to England, we stayed with a very nice couple Ken met through research for his book, 'Dear Mum'.  The husband of this couple served as a seaman on the H.M.S. Ramillies during WWII. They lived in a three storey Victorian home with NO central heating.

The kitchen was cosy - this was where they spent the majority of their time.  The parlour 'boasted' a miniscule fireplace doing its very best to warm the frigid room.  While our hosts puttered about in the cosy kitchen making meal preparations, we 'guests' froze in the parlour and couldn't believe it when the husband called out to us to please let him know if we got too warm!!  When it was time to say good night, we climbed many stairs to the third floor and our icy bedroom. We wasted no time in hopping into bed but were delighted to find that our thoughtful hosts had turned on the electric blanket!

Once when we were visiting Wales, we found ourselves in Cardiff, blissfully unaware there was a conference underway in the city.  We searched in vain for accommodation and were relieved to finally locate a bed and breakfast.  The owner, a blowsy bottled blond trying desperately to look 30, sashayed her high-heeled way ahead of us up a steep flight of stairs, saying she could 'squeeze' us into a little room. The beds were extremely narrow with mattresses like cardboard but we survived to laugh about it all.

We enjoyed many wonderful hikes around the British countryside 

and were undaunted by the occasional 'stile' which separated farmers' fields.

Another time in Exeter we found a bed and breakfast and then went out to look for a meal.  We located a pub but they did not serve meals.  The publican directed us to a 'Wimpy's (McDonalds) type establishment where we purchased a so-called hamburger and chips which we carried back to the pub.  While we were seated in front of a cosy fire, another couple arrived in search of a meal - so we shared our bountiful chips with them. When we finally returned to our lodgings and climbed into bed, we discovered a lovely hot stone pig (hot water bottle) nestled under the sheets.  

On another visit to England we stayed with our old dears, Nellie and Edna, about whom I have previously written in this blog (see 'Innocents Abroad').  Nellie and Edna were the 'salt of the earth'.  These elderly sisters had never married and were extremely innocent.  One morning Ken entered the bathroom only to be engulfed in steam from which Edna emerged, swaddled in a dressing gown.  'Oh, Kenneth!' she tittered and fled past him.  On another occasion Ken was soaking in the bathtub when Edna suddenly entered the bathroom, a plumber in tow, and asked if Ken would mind if the man took a look at the sink taps?

Just a few of our many fond memories of touring around Britain.