Thursday, 1 June 1967	Istanbul → Sofia (Bulgaria) (551 km)
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And again up again early—fair enough, I suppose, at 0715, now that we are on the move again—we are certainly not staying long in any one place. Teheran was the last, and that is a week and about 2500 miles ago (which sounds suspiciously like oil change time. Oh well—some time to go yet).

Downstairs with all our barang, and discovered an Ami 6 in place of the green DS 21, and packed everything in, and then in to have breakfast while Dad did something about paying the bill, and eventually decided that they had made a balls up of it all, and had to do the Diners club chit all over again. Then down to get some air and, at Dad's request, off round town to get some cine of the blue mosque, and then to the Bosporus—all this in the Istanbul morning rush hour traffic, which is not the best in the world, though I did somehow manage 14 miles in an hour—though average in the thick of it was down to almost 0,7 mph [1 km/h].

Off then in the direction of Erdine, discussing my idea of buying a decrepit old DS19 with Dad—an idea which I think would have been long dead had it not been for the fact that I saw one at the service station yesterday. He is, not surprisingly, not too happy, though he acknowledges my points.

Then Dad too over, and, before to long I discovered that we had no insurance for Bulgaria, so did a bit of forging. Through Erdine, and through the border. These Bulgarians are certainly efficient. It was easier to get into Bulgaria than it was to get out of Turkey—though we had trouble with the insurance, because the bloke could not see that “excluding Bulgaria” crossed out meant at we were insured for Bulgaria. We should have let sleeping dogs lie.

After that, on ever on, apart from a quick detour back to the border to change some money, and tried to find some bread for lunch, to little avail, and eventually, after looking in every town nearly to Plovdiv, decided that we would have some beef pepperpot for lunch, stopped in a layby, where Dad found a shop that sold bread....

On to Sofia—there were a couple of diversions, and they are working on the road—good job too, as most of it is cobbled. The first diversion was OK, as the surface was as good as, if not better than, the E5n. However the surface on the second one was again mainly cobbles, and this time over a much greater area, and through mountainous country, which slowed us down considerably. Finally arrived in Sofia just a little tired at 1900 hrs, and before we knew where we were, were booked into a private house, as all the pubs were full. The makan was at the nearest pub, but we could find no red light area at all—pity.

We had been told that Sofia had one of the most interesting red light areas in the world.

Friday, 2 June 1967	Sofia → (Jugoslavia) Beograd → Zagreb → Ljubljana → (Austria, -1 hr) Klagenfurt ) 1,011 km
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Up early enough this morning, by a sort of mutual effort—Dad grunted at me at about 0730, and so I hopped out of bed and pulled him out. Then quickly packed up—and we had quite a bit of stuff too—and down by foot to the car, as we had run out of Stotinki to run the lift.

The lift required a Stotinka coin to run it. The Stotinka is a tiny coin, and it seemed just about worthless, but we liked the name.

Checked all the usual, and then bought some likely looking bread rolls at a roadside stall, and off after doing our best to find some Balkan Sobranie tobacco. Almost before we knew it, we were at the border—there is no doubt that border formalities become less and less as one travels further west: it took Dad longer to change a couple of traveller's cheques than it did to get through the customs. Then on—there seem to be a lot of Citroëns in Yugoslavia, both D types and smaller models. On, ever on, and got a fill of petrol, which, much to our annoyance, was more expensive than it was in Bulgaria. Still, we had no intention of going back to get some more, so on towards Nis, where we were supposed to hit an Autobahn, and 2 things dawned on us: the Autobahn only had one carriageway, which slowed it down considerably, and the distance to Beograd was about half as much again as we had thought. To make matters worse, it started pouring with rain, and this severely limited our speed. Eventually I completed my 100 miles, and so stopped at a convenient layby for lunch and cooked the usual brew there, except we used coffee powder instead of tea leaves, which made the drink taste rather different.

Off again, through Beograd, and Dad got me to take hundreds of feet of cine for him, and then on on another road which looked just the same as the one into Beograd to me, though the map disagreed with me. On, nevertheless, and made pretty good time, despite the amount of traffic on the road, until we had another flat—the same trouble as before. Why do these tubes split?

The reason was that I was maintaining the nominal pressure in the tyres by deflating them when they warmed up and reinflating them when they cooled down. Not the thing to do.

I am definitely going to have a little chat with Michelin when I get to England, and will also give them the tyres.

After fixing the tyre and putting it back on, which we did in the record time of 16 minutes, on to Zagreb, and there changed over for the last 80 odd miles to Ljubljana, where I narrowly missed my average of 120 kph [km/h], which irritated me somewhat. Found our way into the town, and there to the hotel Slon, which was the only place fully on the Diner's club, but found that the whole of Ljubljana was full, and so pushed on, rather against Dad's will, to Klagenfurt in Austria. The map is somewhat inaccurate—it showed the road as a B road, but it was as good as the “Autobahn” we were on today. To the Hotel Moser-Venino in Austria, and had quite a good makan there, before hitting the sack fairly late.

Saturday, 3 June 1967	Klagenfurt → Villach → Spittal → Bischofshofen → Salzburg → (Germany) München (364 km)
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Ah, it is wonderful to wake up when you want to, and go leisurely down to breakfast—a pity it was not quite like that today. Still, it was not too bad, and we were by no means in a tearing hurry, and in the dining room had an opportunity of reading a Times printed on normal paper for the first time since I left England last November

The “Times” of London was the newspaper in the East, and it was always printed on airmail paper.

and discovered that, as predicted, the biggest crisis since Suez 1956 had just blown up—it seems funny to have been so close to the actual events, and how far away they seem to people here. Times editorials put me pretty well in the picture—Nasser seems to be the local equivalent of Soekarno, with about the same mentality. It will be interesting to see what happens.

Off to Villach, along the same road we went a little under 4 years ago—only then we were going in the opposite direction.

It was, in fact, in the same direction.

Through Villach, after getting some petrol, and up through to Spittal on some much better roads than we had expected, although they deteriorated somewhat after Spittal, and so on at times on some unmade roads, where we roared past all the other traffic crawling at about 8 mph [13 km/h].

I recall going through a road work diversion on the edge of the Drau where the speed limit was probably something like 20 km/h, but since the road quality was better than many roads we had passed, we went through at round 60 km/h.

On, and changed over [drivers], and shortly later gave a lift to an old bag trying to get into Radstadt—what a different lot of people they are here from in England, how completely unaffected, etc.

From Radstadt to Bischofshofen, where we got some better roads into Salzburg, and there (or rather just before) stopped and got a new tube put into the tyre which had the puncture yesterday, as Dad did not trust it. Blew most of the rest of our money then on food, and then, after a bit of trial and error, found our way onto the Autobahn to München, and burnt along there to the border, which was automated with typical Teutonic efficiency. On until came my turn—the steering is causing the car to shudder terribly at speed, and Dad got really worried, and would not let me go over 80 [mph, 130 km/h], with the result that, for about the first time, I was overtaken on the open road.

Then in to München, and finding our way round was not assisted by the fact that they are building an U-Bahn [underground railway] here, and so half the streets in town were up. After messing around for an hour and a half, booked in at the Hotel Daniel am Stachus, and then found somewhere to park the car—it is quicker to walk in this town. Back up to the hotel, and Dad got ready, and we went out to the Hofbräuhaus, as I have been meaning to do for a long time, and into the Schwemme, which was familiar enough from films, etc. Had makan there, and then, after going back to the hotel (saw a Citroën décapotable en route) off to the Lola Montez night club opposite the Hofbräuhaus, and got a couple of tarts stuck to us, with the result that our bill came eventually to DM 293, which, not surprisingly, pleased Dad little. These strip tease shows leave me cold.

Sunday, 4 June 1967	München
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After last night's late night woke up more than correspondingly late this morning—some time after 1100 hrs, which allowed for quite a great deal of sleep in between. Up and leisurely got dressed, and then up to wake Dad up, and he sat there solidly cursing himself for a hell of a long time about the money he had spent last night, translating it into every currency he knew and comparing it with other things of similar cost—it would certainly buy a lot of photographic equipment.

Eventually persuaded Dad that sitting around moping about it all would do nobody any good, and so got him thinking about lunch while we got dressed, and decided to stroll rather leisurely down to the Hofbräuhaus and have some makan.

Thus off, but first to the car to check that the windows had not been smashed in, nor all the barang stolen. Nor were they—but another hydraulic leak—boy, are they irritating. This one was from the rotating break union on the right back half axle—Dad nearly persuaded himself that it was from the suspension cylinder. Decided that we would have to put the car in for servicing tomorrow, before we lost all our hydraulic fluid.

Down to the Hofbräuhaus, looking at all the cameras for sale on the way—they have quite a few new cameras out, including the Leica M4, which is the first I have heard of such a camera—it seems to be an improvement on the M3 if that is possible without completely redesigning the film loading, which they have not. After the Hofbräuhaus, went to see „Der Hund von Baskerville“, which I have read in German as well as English, and thought it would be well to see the film. Dad, however, was tired, and so off to the pub went he while I went to see the flick, which I did not enjoy too much—it looked suspiciously like German dubbed onto an old English film, so old that I did not even know the names of the stars—and the filtration on the various reels varied wildly.

Back to the pub, where Dad slept on, and then down to find the price of a few lenses, in case such information should interest Paul Hallett, and in any case for my own data processing outfit. Strolled at length round town, and found it quite nice. Looking in the window at PINI, saw an Edixa Meßlupe [ground glass screen] for only DM 16—that I must really get my hands on.

Back to the hotel again, and found Dad up and semi dressed up, ready to go down, for a change, to eat at the Hofbräuhaus, and so down with him. Tonight it was sausages—Bratwurst, Wiener Würstl, Schweinwürstl [sic], and more Bratwurst. After that, back again to the pub, and pretty quickly to bed, though Dad came down and started talking for a while. Then finally to sleep.

Monday, 5 June 1967	München → Frankfurt (436 km)
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Dad rang me up this morning to ensure that I was awake (which I was not), and then suggested that I got dressed and went upstairs so that we could go to breakfast together. I don't know how long he expected me to take, but he seemed rather astounded when I did turn up. After waiting for him to get up and dressed, down to the Frühstücksraum [breakfast room], and had the usual scanty breakfast and tried to read „Die Welt“ at the same time, without too much success.

Then off to the car, where the pool of hydraulic fluid had undoubtably grown, and off through the Münchner one-way street system trying to find the Citroën agents without even knowing the address. After cruising around a bit looking for it, asked at a nearby service station, who was eventually able to direct us thither.

Got there—I have never seen so many D-types together in my life—and in for a hell of a wait before we were finally able to get some attention, and it was confirmed that we would have to have the steering arms changed, as well as the brake pipe at the back. Then the problem of payment, as we had nothing like the DM 400 that they quoted, and eventually spoke to the boss, Herr Rieth, and he said that come what may, we would be able to get the work done, and that he knew the bloke at the Diners' Club, though he could not, at present, get on to him.

The problem with payment was simply a fact of life in those days: it was difficult to transfer large sums of money internationally. Diners' was the only credit card, and they were not very widely accepted (they still are not). American Express had a money transfer service, but it didn't seem to be working, since we didn't get the money we were expecting in Istanbul. The next stop for getting money was Frankfurt, but to get there, we needed the car repaired: a chicken and egg problem.

Then down to the ADAC, where they were not very helpful, either in the payment nor in the Channel crossings. On to the Lenbachplatz, and to the Goetheinstitut and confirmed my place at Lüneburg, and then by foot over to PINI, where I got the groundglass screen,and while I was at it, a waistlevel finder for the Edixa—-make [sic] it look like a completely different camera, as well as making it far more useful and versatile.

Off to the pub to pack up our bags and put them in the foyer, and then off to look for some books to buy which would help my Deutsch while in England, and then got mixed up trying to find our way to the only bookshop in München which was a member of the Diners' club. Facts were not helped much further by the fact that Dad's back was killing him, and that he had to come to pay the bill. Then back to the pub and got our barang into the nearest taxi and out to Auto-Rieth, where they had fixed up the car, and waited about an hour and a half while they decided what to do about the payment, as we could manage neither the Diners' Club nor the ADAC, and eventually arranged to send it (the balance, at any rate) from Frankfurt tomorrow. Then off, got some minyak on the Diners', and on the Autobahn to Stuttgart, etc., and Dad driving while I read a couple of the books which I had bought. Changed over, and a little later had makan at a Raststätte, and on, ever on. Eventually arrived in a pretty full Frankfurt, and eventually found the Hotel Landgraf in Böhmer Straße, and set pretty quickly therein. [sic]

Tuesday, 6 June 1967	Frankfurt → Oostende → (520 km) Dover → Ashford → London (129 km)
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-1 hour

Off went the alarm at 0730, and, considering the time I think myself remarkably dextrous in the manner in which I managed to turn the thing off and then roll over and go back to sleep again. Both of us eventually staggered out of bed some time after 8, packed up, and down to the reception to try and get on to the American Express offices, and eventually managed that, only to discover that they had no messages of any kind for us, and that they could therefore not do much to help us. In for breakfast, and nearly a nasty situation when we discovered that the hotel was no longer on the Diners' Club, but apparently they managed to do something about it.

Then off to the Friedrich-Albert-Anlage [sic; should be Friedrich-Ebert-Anlage], and eventually found a petrol station, which was by no means where it should be, and filled up, and then off on to the Autobahn, which was rather a difficult and slow thing to get on,

That's the way I saw it at the time. In fact, from the Friedrich-Ebert-Anlage it was about 2 km to the beginning of the Autobahn. Possibly I chose the wrong Autobahn.

but once on all was not too bad, though we made a wrong turning and ended up in Wiesbaden.

in fact, we were on the A66, which goes from Frankfurt to Wiesbaden. We should have turned onto the A3 at the Wiesbadener Kreuz, but drove straight on

Back on the right Autobahn, and peed therealong at quite a rate, which was pleasing to us as a result, as we had our apprehensions about how long it was going to take us. Handed over to Dad near Düren, and then on quite painlessly, and took in the border at the same time. Then on through to Liège, where we got ourselves lost trying to find the (very badly marked) high speed road to Brussels, which Dad considered better than going by way of Antwerpen on the Autoroute, which I found an odd judgement. In any was, was all a bit of a mess, and got stopped by an officious bastard of a Gendarme, who said something to the effect that we had crossed the continuous white line, and would we please pay a fine of 300F? All very well—we only had 130F to our names. Pointed out that the line was wobbling all over the place, and eventually, after he had checked in the Belgian blacklist (and, presumably, found us absent) let us go. In Brussels round about lunch time, and had a hell of a job getting round the town, but eventually back to the Autoroute again. I took the wheel from Gent, and on very quickly to Oostende, where we contacted the AA shipping office, and got them to arrange for us to write a cheque on blank paper to pay Townsends for the ferry from Zeebrugge to Dover, so then up to Zeebrugge, 25 km from Oostende, and waited a while while all the formalities were completed.

Then on the boat, which, with typical English efficiency, left ½ hour late, and lost a further 10 minutes on the voyage, which I found singularly boring, and spent reading war reports in the Times and the Guardian.

Eventually off, and through customs, which was about the most difficult in Europe, though still not as bad as in Iran.

On to Ashford, but, strangely enough, no accommodation there, so on to London, picking up a Swiss hitchhiker bound for Southampton on the way, and got thoroughly lost before dropping him on the A3 and ...

Wednesday, 7 June 1967	London
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finding that it was the Derby week, and no accommodation, so found a convenient Parkplatz [parking place] and slept in the car.

Woke up at about 0730—it was virtually impossible to sleep with all the noise going on, and besides, the dhoby bag (which I had, for some reason, been using as a pillow) was giving me a bit of a stiff neck. Sort of rearranged the load in the car, and then set off, driving pretty aimlessly, trying to find somewhere where, with our 3/1d, we could buy something like a breakfast, and eventually ended up out in Maida Vale, and bought a couple of bottles of milk and some buns, and made do with that. Then down to the West End, and tried to find somewhere to park the car, without much success, so decided that we had better put the thing in a car park right by Trafalgar Square, and then up towards Leicester Square and the Mapleton Hotel—not the first time we have been there. Booked in there, though we were told that the room would not be ready for a while, and so off to see the AA across the road. Then to the bank—no mail from Mum, which had Dad rather worried. After that, he to BOAC, I to Wallace Heaton to buy some more appropriate chain for Jenny's exposure meter, which obligingly fell apart in my hands just outside the shop. Took it in—though they are Harmony agents, they declined all knowledge of it, and said that they would take a number of weeks to fix it, and charge quite a bit, no doubt. Off, found Dad, and to the hotel, where I got my screwdrivers out, worked out how to take the thing apart, and fixed the thing in 5 minutes, but then had the problem that the thing was not working too well (it never had), and so changed the meter fixing mechanism. All in 30 minutes, not a number of weeks. Wallace Heaton give me the shits—they didn't even have the snake chain.

In the afternoon, after lunch at the closest Wimpy Bar, had intended to see “Blow up”, but too late for that show, so to Jacey's cartoon theatre in Leicester Square, and saw the hour show, and then had a look around my old stamping ground in Lisle St. G.W. Smiths have quite a good selection of stuff in there now—Cossor 2 beam scopes for only £22-10-0.

Off to find Dad (at the pub),

“Pub” is used here in the Australian sense, meaning “hotel”

and then off to see “Blow up”, which, despite reports to the contrary, I thought quite a good film. Admittedly, I would not have thought a professional photographer would act like that, but there was a lot of subtle implication that I liked—a lot of which was just à propos of something else.

Out again, and decided to go and try some English beer, which we did, without being very enchanted with it. Then rang up Bev and Jennie—Jennie's

Yes, I changed the spelling in mid-diary entry

last exam is on the 15th, as I had expected. Accordingly we will out to Sandown next Thursday, and I will stay there, I suppose, for about 6 weeks. I hope I don't make the Halletts sick of me. But how wonderful to be with Jennie so long!

Thursday, 8 June 1967	London
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Not too early up this morning, thank God - that I could never have stood. After all, life is not to strenuous right now, so why try and make it that way? In fact, though, Dad did stir me with the reminder that if we did not move the car, we were liable to get a parking ticket, and so I down to the car, for what it was worth - the thing would not start, and we eventually decided there must not have been enough petrol in the tank to start on the incline. Back to the pub, and had breakfast, and then off to look for a petrol station, while Dad went his way. Petrol is more expensive here than in Malaysia, and oil even more so. Back, stuck the minyak in the tank - and the thing would still not start. Eventually stuck some of this Holt's clean-out grot in the carburettor, which, somewhat to my surprise, did the job, which pleased me. Off with the thing and parked it in Lisle St, where there was neither parking meter, yellow line, nor no parking sign - I wonder why the LCC let that get away. Back to the pub, washed myself up a bit, and checked in „Wie funktioniert das“, as to the construction of a Solex downdraught carburettor, which they actually described. Off again, and decided to take photos of people in London, and after only a couple of shots ran out of film, and did not feel like shelling out 7/10d for an HP4,

This is one of the few indications I have of the price of film in those days. The price corresponds to somewhat over £ 6 or about AUD 10 in 2022, and that for a black-and-white film.

so off by tube to Edgeware road to try and get some Mk. V at DPS, but they were out of it - they now have some XXXX, whatever that is - same speed as TX, cheaper - I wonder what it is like. Bought an expired HPS for 3/-, and then started down the street looking at all the grot for sale cheap there, but nothing of much interest - a half plate camera, without a shutter, however. Stopped at a Wimpy bar - I don't know whether they are a curse or a blessing - and had makan before strolling down Oxford St. to take some photos of the legs there. Strolled about Soho after that, and messed about, looked at an old Canon, and bought an AP. Then off to see “Grand Prix” - way up the top of the theatre, where the effect of the Cinerama was negligible, and the only noticeable effect was a curvature of the horizontals. Nevertheless a very interesting film - and one which I rather liked, especially the end - there was a tremendous conflict between competitors for the World Championship, which evoked a lot of siding from the audience, and my bloke (driving a japanese car) won. That in itself was a triumph - I don't know how Ferrari took the beating that the film gave them - it showed them up as very unreliable.

Off back to the pub, and then with Dad to find the Holstein Bierkeller, and it was not there, so off for makan and then to see an X film, which was crazy - called “La” [? Can't find any matching film], and I have yet to fathom it.

Friday, 9 June 1967	London → Horsham (65 km)
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Lethargy is creeping up on me again - that is something which has not hit me much since leaving Afghanistan or Persia. Dad said something about going off to the AA in Northern London, and so I left him to it, and gradually woke up over something on the radio about Prince Charles going bald - the odd things that these Poms worry themselves about.

Downstairs to try and find some breakfast, but it looked as if it was off, so gave it up as a bad job and went back upstairs and hung about, reading and doing little of any importance. Eventually Dad appeared, with the news that the car would be loaded between the 14th and the 19th, and that he would have to pay a 10% surcharge for sending the car round the Cape, as the Suez canal is closed, and looks like remaining so for a while.

Off after that to attend to various things - first the car, which I combined with having a bite of makan, and found a neat little slip which told me I had committed an offence by parking where a meter was not, and was liable to a fine of £2 if I paid up quickly. Swore and back to the pub, and packed up, and then brought the car round, and packed everything into the boot, after which down to the Michelin office with the tyres, and left them with them to work out the reason why they fell apart.

The reason is clear: we used high-speed tyres on a trans-Asia trip, and to add insult to injury I tried to keep the tyre pressures constant independent of temperature, so they were underinflated.

After that, on a wild goose chase to look for Citroën, and after about half an hour, after which one of the blokes had reckoned it was part of a 2CV, gave it up as a bad job,

I have no idea what this was supposed to mean.

and up to the West End again, having got some petrol and oil, and parked in a multistory car park, which was a hell of a thing to go up, off then for makan - good old Wimpy's again. After that, off to repack the stuff inside the car,and paid my fee, and down to look for the Metropolitan Police, and eventually found it, and off there to have a little chat with them, and eventually, after pointing out, apparently quite convincingly,how unfair it all was, got the fine let off,

This was quite a learning experience, in fact. On the face of it, £2 (about $100 Australian in the money of 2016) wasn't even overly expensive; we would have had to pay a similar price in a car park. Secondly, I had learnt the bizarre English parking rules at school only a year before, but it seems that in London, by this time at any rate, you were only allowed to park at a meter inside the parking zone. And the most important thing was that the police had not realized that the car had Malaysian registration: they would presumably have followed up with the owner of the English registration BK 6478, assuming that the number was still valid.

and then off back down to Piccadilly, and parked between Leicester and Trafalgar squares, and then strolled round - saw a Wrayflex, which a Dixon's bloke was messing round with, fogging film, etc - what a hell of a dim groundglass.

Back, after buying a magazine, to the pub, where arrived first Dad and then Ivor Shipley, and then off through the crazy London Rush hour traffic, and spent a half hour getting down to Horsham,

That is in fact a very good time; in 2016 Google Maps suggests 77 minutes outside the rush hour.

and there awaited Mrs. Shipley, who was apparently surprised to see me, and had a beer and shortly afterwards makan, after which down to find a place to change the oil, and back again for coffee, after which a fairly lively conversation ensued - it is odd how one can the the way the conversation of people from Malaysia differs.

I can't find a good web reference for Ivor, though he was quite famous at the time, but I did find a reference to the house, which really looks unchanged. I didn't think it was overly modern at the time, and one thing that I found (and still find) irritating were the panes of clear glass over the bedroom doors, still visible in this photo:

Saturday, 10 June 1967	Horsham → Hearst Bridge → Nutley → Horsham → Portsmouth (219 km)
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Very lazy indeed were we this morning - not surprising, considering the time that we got to bed last night (I really mean this morning). In any case, Dad said something about not keeping Ivor waiting, and so, whether I liked it or not, I was dragged out of bed, and before too long managed to find some clothes and stagger out on the porch where Dad and Ivor were having breakfast, and so joined them - very pleasant out there in the sunshine, no air of urgency - and somehow I enjoy just sitting there listening to Dad and Ivor talking about the old times - it is odd, I suppose, what a lot of memories of the “good old days” even a bloke of my age has - KB seems like a different world: what a lot has happened since Malaya got independence nearly 10 years ago.

Then looking round the place - Raith [Ralph] has a little sort of Carpenter shop at the bottom of the yard, and then I dragged out my camera and took a few photos of the kids and the dog,

These would have been taken with the Edixa on film E20, the Ilford HPS that I bought on 8 June 1967, exposed at 33°/1600 ISO. This is one of the Lost Films.

after which off in Ivor's Jag to have a look at somebody's building going up, and apparently Ivor had expected the bloke to be there, but he was not. Then back to the house, and fairly soon off to a nearby pub with Dad and Ivor (in the Citroën), and there had a couple of pints (which had no effect on me apart from sending me to the bog),

I have a recollection at being amazed at the amount of beer that Ivor put away in a relatively short time, though possibly that refers to another occasion.

and then dropped Ivor off at the station to pick up his bubble car, and then off in a rather daring attempt to brave all the B roads in Surrey (or at any rate, with the way Dad navigated, it seemed like that).

Looking at the itinerary, it's more likely to have been Sussex.

Eventually staggered into Hearst green, where Dad dragged out a local guide to the rural district of Battle, and then off, and found the Neal's place, called “Red Roofs”, and had a fairly critical look at that - I don't think much of it, but Dad had to give some advice (presumably free) on it, so took a few photos, and off to the Belshams, leaving Dad to ponder the problems, and, incidentally, the fuel tank to run out of petrol,and only just managed to stagger into a service station and get over 14 gallons [65 litres] put into the tank - pump girl said “What, all in there?”.

It was unusual in those days to completely fill the tank, and the pump attendants normally asked how much petrol one wanted.

Off, and eventually got to the Belshams, where Mrs. Belsham did her best to make me feel unwelcome - I don't know what she holds against me: that episode at OBS was a mutual effort, as both Guy and I agreed - and I did worse than Guy, anyway. Saw Christine at last, and was rather disappointed in her. The way Guy described her to me, I felt like pinching her from him - not so now, though doubtless she is very nice - she did not speak a word the whole time.

Presumably that wasn't the reason I found her nice.

Off back to the Shipleys for makan, and Mrs. Shipley invited me back any time I felt like it - very nice of her - Dad reckons I made a good impression on her. Off to “Keppel's Head” in Portsmouth opposite the station. Named after Admiral Keppel of Singapore.

Sunday, 11 June 1967	Portsmouth → Taunton → Newton Abbot (Combeinteignhead) → Yelverton (317 km)
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Up early this morning—the place seems to have a ghost, or maybe water hammer, that woke me up very early with its tapping, and by the time the bloke brought in the tea I was quite prepared to hop up and have it, and then got dressed and downstairs, where I made a call to Paul [Hallett], just across the Solent, and had a pretty active discussion with him about what has ensued since last we saw each other in general, and of course, photography in particular. This conversation was interrupted by breakfast, and then back on again until Dad had to make a call to Bev.

Strange that I didn't mention Jenny, Paul's sister, here.

After that, paid the bill, and off to Cosham direction—to make a change, the weather was really nice today—that, at any rate, is a blessing.

After that, on to Southampton, and discovered how badly marked the roads are, with the result that we ended up on the A27 to Romsey, and then had to make a detour to Salisbury. After that, back on the old well known roads again—or so I thought. On through Wilton on the 36, and looking for the turnoff for the A303, but did not think it was as far as we had come. Dad navigating, told me to turn back, but changed his mind 5 minutes later, and thus, tempers slightly frayed, into Deptford. There until Taunton was quite uneventful, and arrived there round about lunch time, both, as usual, bursting for a piss. Then on to look for some makan, and so ended up at the Tudor Steak Bar, and had the usual there—saw Mick Covenly [spelling?] and Martin Evans there.

I don't remember either of the people. I remember all of the people in the following paragraphs, at least by their surname. We didn't use Christian names at school.

After that, up to the school, and over to see Jenny,

This was not Jenny Hallett, but our old housekeeper from school.

who had quite a bit of barang for me—much more than I expected. Old Roger Poland and Rick Brown saw me, and both reckoned my beard suited me. Rick is leaving at the end of this term for Dartington. Saw also Dave Hargrave, and then Bruce Aston and Geoffrey Allen, who told me the sad plight that the [photographic] club as been in since I left—promised to write to them and help them.

Off to see the Callows—Paul said that he had not taken any of my barang after all when he left, which was rather confusing, so when we went back, checked in the darkroom, and came back a tank body the richer.

Off then down to Newton Abbot, and stopped not far out of Taunton for a bloke, claiming he had had his E-Type [Jaguar] stolen, thumbing to Exeter. Interesting bloke, though he did not look like the owner of an E-type. On to Combeinteignhead, and saw Mrs. Baudouy, who was very interested to hear of our trip, and while I was there got the remainder of the barang I had left there. They have a couple of rather nice girls there.

Off then, through Ashburton to Yelverton [straight across the middle of Dartmoor], and saw Bev, who was rather annoyed at being pulled out of the bath. There was, however, a Rhodesia protest meeting going on, and so we all went off to find some makan—had to go all the way to Plymouth.

Monday, 12 June 1967	Yelverton area
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The events of the past few days weighing somewhat heavily on me, I could not be buggered to get up this morning, and so lay in bed, despite Dad's swearing at me that I would miss breakfast, etc, until the manager of the pub came in—it could only happen in the West Country—and asked me to get up so that the cleaning woman could come in. Up accordingly, and discovered Dad had gone somewhere to get something, though he was not long—had got some stuff wherewith to clean the car. Accordingly put on some clothes a little less formal (i.e. a mixture of OBS and KCT clothes), and sat round watching until he offered me some kerosene to clean the engine with—there is something beautiful about a clean aluminium head, though it was much more difficult cleaning the carburettor. Also cleaned out the air filter, which was truly filthy, and I am forced to wonder how much of that grot is now in the carburettor and engine.

Off then to find some makan, and so to the Tavy fish and chip shop—there are, in fact, two, but we tried the first. Off then to try and find the moor, which somehow eluded us, and ended up in a no through road, where we had lunch, and then backed out a couple of hundred yards.

Off then to Tavy school, and looked around for Bev—though all the tarts there look the same, and I don't reckon we would have recognised Bev had we seen her. But, as we did not, off back to Grimstone, where Harri told us that she was due back any moment, and so we set to sorting out all our barang, and it honestly astounds me how much barang we had in that car when we arrived here. To make matters worse, of course, there was the stuff that I had already left here, and so ended up carting all my stuff down into the room which we had commandeered, and doing our best with that. Left the vast majority of the stuff where it was, but of course there are always clothes, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had quite a few of these, which was rather fortunate.

Bev back just before this, and came in handy. I still had a hell of a lot of stuff to take with me—in fact, I don't know how I will manage it the way I live of late, my minimum travelling kit is my case, briefcase, and CDC case [cameras], which makes quite a lot.

After that, it was suggested that we had tea, to which I readily accepted—very nice, out in the sun. Back packing up—took Bev's trunk, and stuck most of my stuff in there, and to my surprise, just about filled the thing. I hope the Halletts will not mind looking after the thing.

They have a peacock here—in fact, Mummy, Daddy—who we caught with his tail up—interesting—and baby, only a week old.

What a job it is getting makan here! Rang up the Halletts in the evening, and arranged to leave my trunk there, as well as stay until the end of July.

Tuesday, 13 June 1967	Yelverton area	Images for 13 June 1967
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Manage to wake up round about 0800 this morning, just before the tea arrived, and then up pretty sharpish to get dressed, and dress for breakfast, as we had only 45 minutes to get fed and over to Grimstone to take Bev (and the other lot) to school.

Down for breakfast—unfortunately, these Devon lasses are somewhat slow on the uptake, and cannot effectively deal with more than one bloke at a time. As there was already one bloke there before us, this presented its problems, and food was a long time forthcoming.

After that, pretty quickly up to Grimstone, and bundled all 5 kids into the car, and off along some perilous country lane in the direction of Tavistock—I must study an Ordnance survey map of this area. At the moment, it completely baffles me.

To this day, my mental image of the roads between Plymouth and Tavistock is messed up, though I know what it really looks like.

Dropped Georgina at some place seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and then off by the back way to the school, and dropped the rest.

Back to the pub, where we got down to stage 2 of cleaning out the car, which involved the interior—just as bad as the exterior. Eventually got that over and done with, and then down again to Grimstone to load the barang into the car, and of course came to the inevitable conclusion that it would not all fit into the boot, and so left he rest where it was until our departure became more immenent. [sic]

Then, after a cool drink in the garden—the weather has been really fantastic of late—off with Mrs. Andrew by yet another way into Tavistock—these moors must be absolutely covered in roads, all seemingly duplicating each other. Picked up the girls, and then waited around for Mrs. Andrew, and Dad got her to cash some money for him, and then back for lunch.

Lunch was again out the back—griddled sausages over a proper fire, with Daddy peacock sitting nearby looking at himself in the mirror. Got a few photos of him, as well as of the little one, who was entrusted into my care for a while—it is, I have decided, difficult to keep exactly 0,45 m [minimum focussing distance for the lens] away from a baby peacock.

After makan, Bev wanted to go into Plymouth, though I did not, and had I had any sense, I would not have gone. Still, I did, and hung about Plymouth looking like a beatnik for over an hour—Dad apparently found a deckchair in Plymouth Hoe and went to sleep, and Bev went shopping. After all that, got some Mn Alk batteries at a photo shop, as well as some for Bev, and then back, and drove all over the moors, and got nowhere. I would much rather have walked anyway—though not today.

Dropped Bev at home, and then off to the Pub for makan, and after that Dad watched TV, and I up to compare the prices of lenses in England and Germany—ratio is about 2,1:1, though quite a degree of inconsistency—but 47,7% seems to occur a lot.

Wednesday, 14 June 1967	Yelverton area
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Taking Bev (and most of the Andrews) to school has, at any rate, the effect of ensuring that I wake up early, and I suppose that this will continue for some weeks now, as I will be doing similarly (though probably getting up even earlier) when I am by Jennie.

Over this time to discover that there were only 3 schoolchildren to transport. It strikes me as odd how little Vicky ever contributes to the family—I have so far hardly heard her speak a word, bar the usual “Hello”, “Thank you”, etc. Decidedly odd.

After dropping the kids, back to the pub, where I thought further about lenses for Pentax thread cameras, in particular the 28/4 Schneider Curtagon, and meanwhile Dad worked out how he should fill in his diary, which he has supposedly been keeping up for the duration of the trip—this tome came in handy then.

Eventually, somewhat off the wide angle track—I wonder if Paul would like a 25/4 Flektagon—and on to Edixa bodies—suddenly I feel like getting an Edixa-Rex body, set off in the direction of Tavy School, and picked up Bev, who said something about going to a fish and chip shop and having something there—this at 1110 hrs. They were closed, anyway, so up onto our favourite old Tor while Bev showed me her chemistry practical, of which she did not make too much of a mess. Then down to buy some fish and chips, and back upon the same tor again, though in a slightly different position, had makan—I am getting thoroughly sick of fish and chips—and then down again into Tavy, and through the other side, where we sat talking for a while. It is amazing how seldom all of the family is together, when it is all boiled down—last time January 28, 1967, next time will be some time before my 21st birthday—like charting eclipses of the sun. I wonder if there is any relationship.

And yes, for once I wrote the date out of order.

After dropping Bev, back for a renewed effort at the tor, and got a hell of a long way up, and went down to take some photos, and meanwhile a Dartmoor National Trust bloke sped up there in a Landrover and told Dad it was an offence to go more than 15 yards off the road, and that he could be seen for 40 miles—must go as far as Tiverton, Exmoor, Bodmin Moor!

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Amusingly, he didn't make it up all the way. He stopped a few hundred metres from our car and walked the rest of the way:

Then off to Bodmin Moor, round where I was at the beginning of last April. There is one hell of a difference between walking from Callington to Upton Cross and going there by car. In any case, burnt around that area, and showed Dad Cheesewring, Sharp Tor, Shalisha [spelling?], Caradon Hill and other such landmarks.

Back again, picked up Bev, and back to Grimstone, where Dad and Bev had an argument about going out with boys, and I put in a few good words for Bev—after all, the problem of likes of her is my problem.

Floated round Grimstone in the evening playing my clarinet, and paying little attention to the family. Baby peacock is dead.

Thursday, 15 June 1967	Yelverton → Sandown (321 km)
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Up this morning, according to the schedule, at about 0700 hrs, and did our best to get moving smoothly and on schedule, and did not do too badly therewith, apart from the fact that, as I had anticipated, breakfast was a bit late, and eventually, after Dad had taken a few photos of me as I now look [with beard], left at about 0810, and off, rather against my intentions, in the direction of Plymouth, where we got thoroughly entangled in the rush hour traffic before being released onto a rather slow A38 as far as Exeter, with incidents resulting in slightly frayed temper on my part, and eventually through the Exeter bypass, and onto a rather grotty looking A30 leading to Honiton—the roads in this country are absolutely abominable. Made lousy progress, and eventually reached Honiton, and on to the direction of Dorchester along the A35, which was no better than before—I ended up cursing heartily every vehicle that was going much slower than about 50 mph, and that included about 90% of them. Burning past a Vanden Plas at about 70 [mph, 110 km/h], the bastard pushed me off into the grass verge, where I could very nearly have had a nasty accident had I not been used to such bad road conditions.

This was a dual carriageway. I was passing the car in the right lane when he pulled out without looking. I suppose a normal reaction would have been to brake heavily, but the verge (on an angle of about 20°) was relatively smooth, so I moved on to it, accelerated, blew my horn, shook my fist and probably scared the hell out of the driver simply because I was there.

Eventually arrived in Portsmouth at about 1250 hrs,

The distance is about 180 miles (290 km), and Google Maps suggests that it would take about 3½ hours in 2012. The roads (particularly the A35) were really very bad in those days.

... just as the 1300 hrs boat was about to leave—and we were due to get the 1200 boat. Could not even get the 1300, but were told that we would make the 1400 if we hung around, and so upstairs to Grogan's car ferry restaurant for 5/6d worth of makan, 6d worth of bread roll, and 1/6d for the coffee—seems highly out of proportion. Anyway, by the time we had finished everything, the next ferry was ready and waiting, and so down and put the car on, and then up on the boat deck to admire the lovely scenery and the lovely weather—this has been really heavenly of late, though I suppose it will go again with Dad tomorrow.

Then on to the Island, and round to Brading—the lane up to the Hallett's is worse than I remember it, though I took it nevertheless at 40 mph [65 km/h], at which speed all that seemed to be happening was loss of windscreen. Mrs Hallett had obviously dressed up for our arrival, and seemed very glad to see us. Had tea, and then I went down to see Jennie, who recognised the car, but scarcely recognised me—the first words she said were “But I hate beards”, but admitted that she thought it went well on me. I wonder how long it will take her to get used to it. It doesn't seem to spoil the relationship, though.

After that, had tea without Paul, who seemed to be very late, and arrived back home at about 2000 hrs, and looked as black as the arsehole of death, and like a pretty average yob. Got him cleaned up, and talking. Then left him with Dad, and off with Jen to take Prince [the dog] for a walk. Back, and then off with Paul and Jen for a quick burn, which they both enjoyed.

My recollection is that as we drove down the very bumpy drive way (which the Halletts negotiated at about 10 to 15 km/h), Paul said “It's like driving on glass”. I thought he was making fun, but he was serious.

Peggy [the neighbour from across the road] sitting by the gate making dirty comments as I carried Jennie back.

Friday, 16 June 1967	Sandown → London → Sandown (313 km)
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Up at 0530 this morning, and took quite a while to come to my senses, and so staggered about for a while doing nothing, and then into the house, and washed and had a token breakfast. Dad was still awake enough to ask for his wide angle and binoculars, which I most certainly would not have minded keeping.

Off eventually, with very explicit instructions from Mr. Hallett, and did not do too badly memorising them, and arrived in E. Cowes, and had plenty of time to wait about while they unloaded the just arriving ferry, and then put us on. Out a bit, floated about aimlessly, and then headed at a hell of a belt towards Southampton, and eventually got there without too much trouble, and even out of town without losing our way, though we had to stop for minyak.

On there, over the usually congested roads (near Winchester especially), and after Winchester noticed a Morris 1800 burning with us, who had gone over on the ferry, and he was obviously intent on a burn up, so obliged him, and had our trouble keeping our distance, too—but then, Dad never was all that keen on heavy burning, though he nevertheless paid little attention to the 70 mph speed limit.

The registration plates would have helped, of course. No policeman would have thought they were Malaysian.

In London at about 1045 hrs—not too bad. Straight to the Bank of New South Wales, and there collected some mail for Dad—well, at least he had some, so he was not too worried, though news from Mum was none too happy, and Dad is now seriously considering moving to Singapore.

After that, by a rather roundabout route to Victoria air terminal, where Dad checked in his barang, and the off to look for the AA, right over the other side of town. Had to have lunch while we were waiting, and then off with Dad's barang and petrol canister (which they would not ship), to Victoria, and there we arrived after me losing my temper with London transport, and so off, after leaving Dad, thumbing the old way, and got 4 lifts in London itself, and even after that the lifts were not too much cop—7 lifts to the Cosham roundabout, and managed to get through Portsmouth in a green E-type Jag, which dropped me at the Hovercraft landing point, and waited a while until across to Ryde—never again at 10/- a go, but I was tired.

My recollection was that I in fact got quite good lifts, because people saw me with a petrol canister and thought I had run out of petrol somewhere, but they were all relatively short. And there was also some issue that I wasn't allowed on a bus because of the canister.

Then an exhausting walk before I got a lift at the top of Ryde hill, which dropped me at the bottom of the lane, and so up—Jennie was surprised to see me back so early. She showed me the dress she made out of the batek I sent her for Christmas—very nice—cut out shoulders, like the Stewart girls wear, but it looks nice on Jennie.

Paul back after me, and did little of much interest—I wish Jennie did not always claim to be so tired. I shall have to find out how life for the next 6 weeks will be.

Saturday, 17 June 1967	Greenwood
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Up early enough this morning—round the 0800 hrs mark, which is fair enough in this household—and in to see how it went with Paul and Jennie, both who proved to be yet in bed, so first in to suggest to Paul that he stirred himself, and this was a rather difficult job, and eventually sort of gave it up, and just kept popping in and out from time to time. Meanwhile, makan became ready, and so out with Jennie to eat it, and we both did quite well. I have yet to understand Jennie's quirks, etc—she seems rather cold at times, and is always saying how she should get on with her work.

After makan, there was a surprising amount of washing up to do, which Jennie and I managed to do, while Paul sat round watching—he really is an idle bastard. After that, into the dining room, where Jennie was working on a dress she was making, and so had the room in partial chaos, while Paul and I quite successfully provided the balance of total chaos. Jennie is a little butterflyish this morning—flitting from one thing to another, and expecting me to hop to her assistance—showing her how to play the clarinet. One forgets after the passage of years the lip pains and finger aches that come from learning the clarinet (well, most of the lip pains).

Makan eventually came rather half heartedly, as Paul and I were wondering how far to cool down wogs before they died, and decided that 0°C was too low—this by trial and error.

This use of the word “wog” meant “insect”. We were trying to take macro photos of them.

After makan, Paul still keen to go wog hunting, but also wanted to go to Newport, while Jennie wanted to go to Ryde. Eventually cam to a compromise, and decided to go to both (fortunately, I was relatively disinterested), and as soon as we had finished the drying up, Jennie and I got ready to go, while Paul just hung around doing nothing. We were about to go without him, when suddenly he sprang into action—and we had to wait for him. Next time he misses the bus.

Off, with Jennie driving, to Newport, and she did remarkably well—not, I suppose, quite well enough for the M.O.T. to approve, but all she needs is a little more familiarity with the controls and the little refinements that, after all, make the difference between a good and a bad driver—I hope she learns them.

After that, in Newport, looked around a junk shop Paul knows, and then round town. Got some E2 chemicals and Jennie some clothes, and then, after waiting for Paul, who had bought some shoes, on to Ryde—Jennie nearly got 60 mph [100 km/h], which is not bad for a car in that condition—very loud high pitched whine from the transmission—must be something to do with r.w.d.

I have always used the term transmission to mean the connection between the gearbox and the wheels. Modern (US?) usage seems to equate it with “gearbox”.

At Ryde, looked round for some dishes, and eventually Paul got 3 8×10's [dimensions in inches, i.e. 20×25 cm], which should be big enough for most prints, and then back again.

Little of excitement in the evening—unless I should mention that Jennie excites me. Peggy over in the evening to ask for a bed for the night, as Graham had locked her out.

Sunday, 18 June 1967	Greenwood
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Up later today—at about 1000hrs by the time I started thinking about it, and later when I went in to wake up Paul, who was yet in bed. He was not as lethargic as usual, probably because of the long sleep he had had, and so joined in a fairly active photographic conversation with me, and suddenly, just as I was trying out various lenses on Jennie's camera (STak via adaptor), and taking photos of her with it, he came out of bed and out where Mrs Hallett had just boiled some eggs, with his STak 50/1,4 and Leica adaptor, and for the next half hour tried out that and my 28/3,5 STak on his enlarger—nor was he disappointed, save with the dimness of the STak 28 image at 4 ft—I don't know what he expects.

Eventually, all of us had breakfast, and then washing/drying up, and Jennie looking and acting lethargic, saying she had to do some work. Eventually ended up in some deckchairs out the side half-heartedly talking about physics—I have forgotten a hell of a lot myself.

Did little else in the morning—Jennie was a bit restless, and so kept darting in and out, and Paul was taking a few long telephoto shots—we have a maximum focal length combination at the moment of 1600/32, as opposed to the old 2400/48 when I had my old 3× teleconverter—I am rather glad to be rid of that. One notices incidentally that, though Paul and I both have 2× Auto-Soligor teleconverters for Pentax, mine is thicker than his, and examination of reflections (why aren't they coated, by the way?) shows that his has a 3 element (2 cemented) construction, whereas mine is a 4/2. I wonder what the difference in quality is. Somehow, I seem to be ending up with equipment which is outwardly the same as Paul's, but better—the SP is another example. I also prefer my 135 to his—not surprisingly, though it is my oldest lens.

After the very good makan, more dozing around. Jennie was about as well, and none of us did very much. Eventually ended up in the caravan looking at photos and reading letters—I let Jennie read them for some reason. Still, I don't suppose it can do too much harm.

After that, Jennie said something about studying—that girl is nuts, as Paul and I decided on the way down to the water pump. Also decided that Sally is a bad influence on her. Before going down to the water pump, however, messing about with the tractor, which Mr. Hallett did not appreciate too much.

After tea, Paul and I gave up trying to tidy up the darkroom, and instead set of [sic] on a photo taking walk, and thus down to Brading railway station, and took a couple of photos there, before messing [?] on, and back home.

Please explain Jennie (as she prefers now to be called) to me!

Monday, 19 June 1967	Greenwood → Ryde → Greenwood
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Had intended to get up early enough to see Jenni off this morning, but unfortunately my timing mechanism was not up to it, and so I woke up only at about 0810, after Jenni had been gone for 20 minutes, when Paul came in and got me up.

In for breakfast, by which time Paul had already left. I shall be much happier when Jenni finishes this damn silly marine biology course—which will not be until quite late on Saturday: one could hardly say that it was a soft option.

Down into town with Mr. Hallett, and down to the Labour Exchange, which, I note, is really called the Ministry of Labour, though nobody ever refers to it as that. Bloke there suggested I try round the corner, and so I did, but no go, so ended up walking round town seeing what sort of jobs there were, but everybody was wanting either females or experienced blokes. Back to the Labour exchange, and saw the employment officer, who rang various photographic mobs round the place, with little response apart from Reflex Photo works at Ryde, where a Mr. Bottell sounded interested, so it was suggest that I went up there and presented myself for interview. Then off to buy some wood for Paul, and back up to the house, where I dumped it, and got my camera and Ann's recorder, and off by bus to Ryde, where the bloke, very uneasy, saw me, paid me my bus fare, and told me that he wanted me primarily for work in August, and that if I was leaving before then, I would not be much use to him.

It's interesting to note that nobody asked me whether I was allowed to work in the UK: as an Australian citizen, I was not.

Then off to Teagues to talk about Schott descant recorders—they reckon I should write to Edgar Hunt about it. Why spoil a beautiful friendship? (Well, he did write to me once).

Back to Greenwood, and there had makan, after which, feeling lethargic as well as a bit depressed, I did nothing, or not much of any importance, at any rate. Played a bit of music, and then in to read a magazine I bought at Ryde, and suddenly it occurred to me that I ought to tidy up the caravan, and was just about to do so when Mrs. Hallett suggested that I took Prince for a walk, and so off. When, some time later, I got back, got down to it, and did manage to substantially improve the appearance of the place before I got carried away with the thought of carrying on with my book—I had intended to call it “Island Resting Place”, but seeing as though the plot is all changed, it is no longer appropriate. Still... finish the book first.

After a while, Paul back home, just as we had started tea without him, and after that set to to put some shelves in the darkroom, which was more of a job than we expected, because we first had to clear all the junk out of the place, and then work out what we were going to do. Still, I was extremely pleased with our first result, which looks very good, and is definitely very firm.

Jenni home exhausted, and almost straight to bed.

Tuesday, 20 June 1967	Greenwood → Ryde → Greenwood
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Mr. Hallett in at 0715 this morning to wake me up, and quickly out—this quick uprising of mine seems to surprise everybody. This morning it was Mrs. Hallett who apparently does not understand how people can get up and dressed until they are fully awake.

Jennie certainly lost little time having breakfast, and heading down the lane, and I accompanied her—Graham must go down this time every morning, for he passed again this morning, as he did yesterday. I suppose it is only coincidence, but I get jealous when anybody messes around with my Jeni.

Just to be doubly sure, decided to accompany her to Ryde and see her off at the pier—not that I could really afford it, but I could not bear to let her go at Devonia. Met her friend Dierdre at Ryde, and saw her off at the pier. Then up to the Labour exchange in Ryde to see if they had anything to offer me, but they had not—just emigration to Australia, which, under other circumstances, would be ideal for me—but not now, even for only £10.

Back to Sandown, where I fairly quickly ended up in the caravan reading, and before too long appeared Mrs Hallett, asking if I wanted any coffee, and ended up making Malayan coffee.

After that, had little time to rest before I was roped in to help pick strawberries, which I do not particularly mind, though Mr. Hallett felt bound to produce an incentive for it, and eventually came up with the idea of not having any for tea else.

Then makan, a bit later, after I had taken Prince for a walk. After makan, it occurred to me that I had better stick an ad in the paper pretty quickly about the application for a job, and wrote a letter to the County Press, and off down town, after a false start, to post that. Sandown motors have an Ami 6 break in stock—brand new—and it seems to be making quite a hit.

While posting the letter, also bought a couple of things for the darkroom—screws, Rawlplugs, wire, and a junction board for the electrical equipment.

Then back to the house, and started a fairly major rewiring spree, and ended up with the things looking, at any rate, a little less disorderly—though there is still the problem of polarity of the supply as well as earthing the whole damn mess.

After that, feeling I needed a rest, to the caravan, where I started anew on reading „Die Leute mit dem Sonnenstich“, which suddenly seems more interesting—in fact, quite interesting. Ann making a nuisance of herself, though eventually I got the better of her.

After that, Jenni back, and so hung about her like a load of files, and she obviously did not have too much work tonight—spent the whole time in my arms watching TV. She is slightly more cooperative of late. Paul back after Jenni had gone to bed, and discussing the darkroom. Also watched an interesting series on TV about ciné filming.

Wednesday, 21 June 1967	Greenwood
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Mr. Hallett in at about 0740 to wake me this morning, which was 20 minutes late, and as a result I had no time to have breakfast with Jennie, but instead first walked down the lane with her, and then, after the usual sad parting—I am getting fonder of Jenni of late, and at this rate, we will be engaged by the time I leave for Germany—back up the lane, and had breakfast with Paul, who was soon off, and left me with the usual thoughts of nothing for a while, until it occurred to me that I might as well go with Mr. Hallett down town, and try to get a job, and to the Employment Exchange, with no luck. After that, in town—I must study a map of Sandown in detail, and then perhaps I will be able to find my way about a bit better. Bought some more stuff for the darkroom, mainly to do with the safe-light—an eye for the thread, as well as a cleat, and some staples and a 25W bulb further down the road.

Back to the house, and did a lot of stapling wires in place, which makes things look a lot better, and certainly there is less wiring in the way—we will make something of this place yet. Then turned my attention to the safelight, which was more of a problem, since I was not too keen on asking Mr. Hallett for his electric drill, and could not do anything without it.

Did little from then until lunch—not much to do, after all.

After lunch, it occurred to me that I could profit by going down town again and getting yet more stuff for the darkroom, and was going to go down with Mrs. Hallett until (fortunately) she reminded me that it was a half day today. This half day really is a stupid idea. Still, it meant hat there was no point going down town, and so into the caravan and finished off a letter to Bev, and asked her to post it when she went downtown (God only knows why she was going).

After that, again to the caravan, and on with „Die Leute mit dem Sonnenstich“, and it seems to be warming up, though still very much a P.G.Wodehouse sort of atmosphere.

Eventually tired of this—in fact of everything, so lay down on the bed and was woken by Ann tickling my feet and giggling her head off, and so out to where preparations were being made for tea, and in to watch some crazy cartoon show, and then had tea.

After that, hung around in the caravan reading—I am sure that I am getting more proficient in German. I ought to, at any rate.

After that, down to pick up Jenni, and she arrived when I thought rather than when she did. I must irritate her, the way I hang about her all the time, but how can I help it? Paul back later, and did a bit more work on the darkroom, and then inside, and got my camera out again to take some photos of Jenni in her pajyamas [sic]—that got my blood up: they are rather loose.

After that, into the caravan with Paul for a session through midnight reading my diaries of school days.

Thursday, 22 June 1967	Greenwood
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Mr. Hallett in at 0720 this morning—good for him, as I forgot to remind him last night. In any case, out pretty quickly, as usual, and waited about for Jenni to appear, which she did in due course, and so had breakfast together. Not much fun being with Jenni at this time of the morning—she is not really awake, and in too much of a hurry in any case. Down at about the same time as usual this morning, and somehow the bus must have been early, but in any case, what with running as fast as we could go, we managed to catch it. Back, panting, up the lane, and speaking to Paul on my return. He went off pretty quickly, and I returned to the caravan contemplating life, and eventually, having done nothing except reading for a while, decided to write to Bruce Aston and told him what to do with the Phot. Soc. at school—not that I can see what it has to do with me, and in fact, I find it all more than slightly distasteful. Then down town, and posted the letter, and bought yet more stuff for the darkroom—twine, more eyes, an earthing clip for the pipe, and, at the place I went to the other day, some chipboard for the developing dishes, with which I staggered back (well, it was 2'6" × 2'9" × ¾" [75×82×2 cm]), and then proceeded to drill all sorts of holes in the darkroom wall, and strung up the safelight as I had intended, and then spent most of the rest of time until lunch fixing up the bench over the bog, which we intended to use for developing as a “wet bench”—and I hope the other stays dry!

Then lunch, and helped Mrs. Hallett with the washing up, as usual. After that, looking around for earthing wire, and mentioned the subject to Mr. Hallett, who said there was plenty up in the barn, but what was I going to earth it to? All the pipes out of the house are plastic. Suggested I knock a pipe into the ground just outside the door, and offered me some that was down in the barn. Went down, and had knocked the pipe in the ground about 2 ft before Mr. Hallett came along and pointed out that the dimensions of the pipe were 2 times too large in each direction. Went to look for some smaller stuff, but could not find any, so slept until Paul returned, quite early today, with the news that he is taking a total of about 10 days holiday starting next Friday, when we will go up to London, and, amongst other things, see Bev off at Heathrow.

After tea, took Paul into the darkroom to show him how things were getting on, and he seemed quite pleased with it all, especially the safelight. I was just tidying the place up—Paul off for a crap—when in walked Jenni, an hour earlier—I had wanted to go down to meet her, but thought the telepath was just wishful thinking. Showed her the darkroom, after which off for a short walk, and she to bed, parents out, and Paul and I did some printing—though I went up to see her in the middle. She is much more sympathetic of late—I am again crazy about her. Fun in the middle of the night getting a rubber from Paul for a graph I was drawing for Jenni.

Friday, 23 June 1967	Greenwood
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Woke up at 0800 hrs this morning, as Jenni was catching a later boat over to Portsmouth. I find it difficult to understand Jenni at times—especially in the mornings, which are usually frustrating—though I can understand her being a bit fed up while hurrying about trying to get ready to go off to school. Also, not being awake properly does not help much.

Down by foot with Jenni far too early, as she does not want to sit around snogging—no, I am being cynical. After all, she nearly missed the bus yesterday. Today, on the contrary, we had to wait about 10 minutes, during which she would not even hold my hand. Off she went eventually—every time I say goodbye to Jenni of late, I get really sad at being away from her. I am getting too involved with her—I had more sense when, a year ago, I wrote in my appointments diary some thoughts about women, one of which was not to get too involved. Ah, what the hell—involvement is such fun. Play your cent though, Jenni. [?]

Back up at the house—my nose is in terrible condition—on with „Die Leute mit dem Sonnenstich“, which I have now about half finished. Then into the darkroom, and loaded the Tri-X that I took mainly in the Hofbräuhaus. Eventually got round to developing in [sic], though had had difficulty getting enough water to wash it in.

Then lunch—not an altogether pleasant meal, when I am alone with Mr. and Mrs. Hallett—not that I feel that I am not appreciated or anything, but it is difficult to find anything to talk—though old farmer Hallett is always ready to talk about what he has been doing today. Nearly picked a bed of strawberries instead of lunch, but the rain came sooner than we had expected.

After lunch, into the caravan, and finished off the letter that I started yesterday to Mum and Dad, and then down, in the pouring rain, to post it, and took Prince with me at the same time.

Back again, and tried to dry out, and on with reading „Die Leute mit dem Sonnenstich“—I am not at all sure that I find it fantastically interesting, though it shows signs of improvement in the near future.

After that, hung around in the caravan for a while, and then looking through some of Paul's stuff—in the OA list, I am down as M66 [which I presume means Meynell House 1966; that's an error]—what the hell: I find it rather amusing.

Paul back, and at the time I was copying some Ektachrome slides of Jenni and me. I must get Paul to take some more photos of us this weekend.

Went down to meet Jenni, and after two buses, she was not there, so up—she came on the next bus.

I wish Jenni did not feel so obliged to spend all her time working—still, she came down and snuggled up with me for a while—I am crazy about you, Jenni.

Saturday, 24 June 1967	Greenwood
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Up a bit later this monring—and why not, seeing as though Jennie (I wish she would make up her mind how she intends to spell the name) was catching a later boat to Portsmouth. I hope that, after this little farce and her exams, she will come back to life, and be a little more responsive. As it was, I was up before her, and had to get her to get a move on.

After that, down with her to the bus, which is never much fun. What does it matter—she will not be catching any more buses thus. I find it rather depressing that she should want to leave for France before I leave for Germany. Why would she do that to me?

Into “Ingleside”, at the bottom of the lane, where I had to tell the little old ladies who lived there that there were no strawberries available. Back up, had breakfast with Paul, after which we hung around for a while, before going down to the barn to look for some light fittings, and then back up again, and decided to develop some films, and had just about loaded them—why does Paul still have difficulty loading?—when Ann came and wanted to be taken for a piano lesson, during which we stayed out, and went down to Sandown garage, who are Citroën agents, and got some more literature about them. There are apparently a couple on show at the Island Industries fair. Back, and developed our films, and then had lunch, and off after that, in the pouring rain, to go and have a look at the Island Industries fair—Mr Hallett needed the car.

Got soaked before a bus arrived—missed the previous one by the skin of our teeth, and the weather was pretty grotty.

After a while, eventually arrived at Ryde airport, and paid our 2/-, and I straight over to have a look at the Citroëns there—the only D type they had there was an ID21F with the new Castrol LHM suspension fluid, which is completely incompatible with older suspension systems—rather unfortunate, as I was thinking of using it—never needs changing. It seems that 2CVs retain their 2nd hand price well, and so the chances of getting a cheap one are not so good—might even be cheaper to get a D type.

Back again to a not-overly-receptive Jennie—she is very depressed about exams of late, and I can't get any sense out of her. Off she went pretty quickly to do some work, while Paul and I messed about, had tea, etc—she is most unreceptive at mealtimes of late.

After that, thoroughly depressed, got hold of Paul's bike, and off on that upon the downs, where I froze. Jennie rather sorry to hear she had depressed me, but did nothing about it.

Printing in the evening, and off later for a booze up. Jennie—why are you like this to me?

Sunday, 25 June 1967	Greenwood
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Ann can be extremely irritating when she chooses—and she always seems to choose at the most inopportune moments, too—this morning she came along and woke me up, giggling her bloody silly little head off, telling me to get up, and would not leave me alone. Even when I finally got out of bed, she would not leave me alone long enough to get dressed, which was annoying. She had said something about Jennie being up, which may have had some effect on me, though I knew it to be untrue. Inside and eventually managed to drag Paul out of bed, and ensured that he was not awake by throwing his breakfast egg at him, which he dropped—what a beautiful mess!

After that, out in the rain, slush, etc, looking at some prints which had been washing since last night, and into the caravan (eventually) to hang them up to dry. In walks Mrs. Hallett and says that Jennie wanted to see the photos, and so took the remainder of the whole plates in and showed them to her. She is an odd mood today—still her pjyamas (how do you spell that word?), and would not let me touch her, possibly as a consequence. Soon enough, damn her, she went upstairs again to study, while I contemplated doing a bit of physics myself, as I have forgotten a hell of a lot since 'A' level—in fact, I am even worried about chemistry.

Back to the caravan, after taking (more or less) some insults from Ann and Lesley (a friend of hers), who reckoned I looked like Dr. O'Grady, the family doctor. Oh well—soon enough I had better be Herr Doktor LeHey, so what the hell. In the caravan, Paul was reading, though soon we swam back to the house, and prepared for lunch—Jennie still irritable, etc., and still in her pjyamas. Gave me a pretty hefty clout over the mouth, which hurt me even more in spirit than in body. Feeling thoroughly depressed, decided to go out and get away from it all, rugged up, and out int the rain propelled by 150cc of continuously (well, almost) exploding petrol, which I consequently had to replenish at Ryde, while I examined what effect the 60 mph rain had had on my skin. Then on with, thank God, a lull in the rain, and on to Newport, hitting about 65 en route, which seems, surprisingly, not very dangerous. I think I am getting more used to bikes—I might even, if sufficiently empoverished, buy one some time.

Back, soaked, with a splitting headache from the noise and eyestrain—I must buy some goggles—and changed. Shortly later, enter Jenni, finally dressed, with words and acts of love, as sweet as I have known her. Oh Jenni, why can't I help loving you? It is bad for me—next bike ride I might have a crash.

In the evening, Jennie was depressed an would not even sit on my knee for long. Saw some historic TV programme, live from all over the world, including Melbourne—very good production.

The historic aspect was that this was one of the first programmes ever that was broadcast live from different parts of the world. It showed “tomorrow”'s Melbourne rush hour.

Thoroughly depressed about Jenni—did not even kiss her goodnight.

Monday, 26 June 1967	Greenwood
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Well, I am coming back to life again—my clock system is waking me up at about 0720 to 0730 every morning, though I expect that it will come a bit later in a few days time. Anyway, it is just as well, as nobody is bothering to wake me. Inside, determined to be cold to Jennie until she snaps out of it, and managed to hardly say a word to her all through breakfast, though it was making me probably more miserable than it was her, and when she cornered me in the lounge room a few minutes later, and asked the by now classic “What's wrong with you today?”, I couldn't hold myself any longer, and told her, though I wished later that I hadn't, for she is still in a grotty mood about school exams. After that, off with her to school, and she was complaining because I was wearing thongs, and wouldn't let me come with her, and so I set off back along a public footpath, which, after the rain yesterday was either daring or silly, or, most likely, both. In any case, it would have been shorter, not to mention quicker, to go along Broadway, and I got my feet covered in mud—though it might have been worth it to see the expression the sight of them caused on the faces of some people.

Back at home, had extraordinarily little to do, and ended up reading more of „Die Leute mit dem Sonnenstich“, which, I suppose, is not too bad, though directly after „Marazan“, which I finished this morning, it is more than a little insipid.

After that, in for lunch, which was spaghetti—what fun, though I have tasted plenty worse than tinned food.

After lunch, again the problem of what to do—I have been very lazy of late, and, were I bored (which I am emphatically not, for some reason), I would have plenty to do. Perhaps it will improve later on this week when Paul comes on holiday.

In any case, ended up in Paul's room, reading quite a few of his magazines, including the bike magazines—bike riding seems quite a different cult from car driving, as is reflected in the literature, which has quite a different bias.

Ann back, and it occurred to me that Jennie would not be long in following, so went to look for some shoes (to please Jennie), and then down, early I thought, though I was, in fact, about 2 minutes late—not that Jennie complained, though in a way I wish she had—at least it would show she cared for me a bit, and of late I am beginning to wonder about it.

Back at home, looked at her paper, and then, after tea, reading the newspapers, and Jennie still acting unfriendly like (well—not too bad). Paul back a bit after that, while Jennie studied, and adjusted the carburettor, which did not please Jennie too much—in fact she came out and swore at us quite violently. Off to bed she went early, while Paul and I got the moped working-more or less, anyway.

Tuesday, 27 June 1967	Greenwood
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Thank God Jenni will not have much more in the way of exams—with any luck, they will all be over by this evening, and we can spend the rest of the time on orgies (some hope, but why not hope?).

Up at about 0750 of my own waking, and everybody else was more or less getting up as well. Had breakfast, and a problem—both Paul and I usually breakfast in the same place. Gave way, and moved to the other side of Jenni (who, when it is all boiled down, is not very responsive at this time of the morning, anyway).

As usual, or as should be usual, off to school with Jenni, and this time walked back the right way, and sat down by the road bridge over the creek, and sat there for a long while wondering about the future. What place is there therein for Jenni? What will happen to my love life at the end of next month?

Something with a bearing on this happened when I got back—Jenni is going to Le Havre on the 24th, and I am somewhat disappointed about that—maybe I will go over there with her, and float about Germany until I can get into Lüneburg—I might even go down to Bordeaux with Jenni, though I will definitely go with her as far as Paris. I wonder how much this is all going to cost Dad.

Did little in the morning—I am wasting a lot of my time of late, though after coffee, did eventually get round to getting written up for Sunday and Monday—I wonder how far I would have to get behind before I finally gave any part of this record up. I most fervently hope not before the end of the first 5 years [end of 1967], and in any case can see no likelihood of anything in the foreseeable future.

After lunch, helped Mrs. Hallett with the drying up, and then outside to take Prince for a walk, which activity I did not unnecessarily prolong, as it gave a few warning spits of rain.

Back, and on with „Die Leute mit dem Sonnenstich“, which really is a pile of trash, and I would not read it if it were not for the fact that it was in German. After a brief sort of snooze, outside, and saw what I could do with the moped, which proved not to be much, and so gave it up, washed up, and down to the bus stop and waited (quite a while) for Jenni, who had somehow managed to get out of her chemistry, and was then going to do it tomorrow—damn: another night spent on study. I hope she doesn't find too much to do tomorrow. I suppose, though, that homework will still be rolling in. Why does she have to go to France immediately after the end of term. She is still a bit irritable, and disappeared upstairs to study, and did not reappear until after Paul got back, and then only for a while to get me to explain some chemistry to her. Oh, what the hell—I must be making myself pretty obnoxious. She went off quite early, though sat on my knee for a while. I think, herself, she enjoyed my feeling around, but doesn't want to be seen.

Wednesday, 28 June 1967	Greenwood	Images for 28 June 1967
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What is it that I want of Jenni? Do I just want to sleep with her, or is there more to it than that? I most certainly hope so, though at the moment it seems to me that I spend all my time trying to get closer to the cot with her. Perhaps if she were to cooperate a little more, I would find out—but I doubt that there would be much change, and it seems unlikely that, without resorting to unfair methods—and I am too fond of her to do that—she would go to bed with me. So what do I do? Find another bird, or put up with this (for me) unsatisfactory situation? I will have to work out all this later.

Up as usual, and everything in the morning is pretty sterotyped, except that Ann kicked up a fuss because she was last to get her breakfast. I wonder what Ann will be like in 8 years time—I reckon she might be fun for some bloke.

Off with Jennie to school, and then strolled back again via the [sea]front, where I was watching the early holiday makers start their ritual—also one beach snaps girl with a Leica III and Elmar 2,8. Disgusted, walked back, was volunteered to push start an old 4 litre (or so) Rover, and finally back, pretty warm, to the house, where I went into the caravan, and decided to tidy up the abominable mess that was there, and had hardly started when arrived a telegram from Mum telling me that she had just sent off £10, and then on. Why did she sign herself “Mother”? That puzzles, and rather worries me.

After that, found an earwig, and set up some pretty elaborate equipment to take some photos of it, but had trouble with flash sync, and so gave it up for lunch, and when I got back, the thing had woken up, and gone away. Eventually got a couple of photos of him with my 105/4,5 Tessar, and then packed all the equipment away (or, at any rate, most of it), and then out to take Prince for a walk, and finished the film en route. Then back again, read a bit more of „Die Leute usw“, which I am making hard going of of late, possibly because I don't find it very interesting.

After a while, changed the film in the camera, and started thinking about my beloved, who was due home fairly soon, and so off eventually down to the bus stop, where I saw a Citroën Big 6/15 pass, and then arrived Jenni, saying that she had not found the chemistry paper too difficult thanks to me, and so up to rejoice, and Jenni, as ever, worried about food—they must starve her at school. Eventually had tea, just about as Paul arrived, and then in to watch a bit of TV, and mess around with Jennie until she got it into her head to do some work, and then messing around with Paul. Off for a walk with Jenni after a while, and soon joined by Paul or like—messing around.

Back home, and taking photos of Jeni. Oh, the paradox. I don't think I can stand it much longer.

Thursday, 29 June 1967	Greenwood
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Something went wrong this morning—eventually woke up at 0810, and by the time I staggered, semi-conscious, into the kitchen, Paul and Jenni were nearly through their breakfast, and I just caught on the tail end. Then off pretty quickly, and found Jenni messing around in the bog, and so hung around for a while—of late she is just a little more responsive in the mornings, and I am not quite as miserable as I have been of late. Besides, we are off to the flicks or something on Saturday, probably in Portsmouth—we will probably spend the day, as well as most of the evening, there.

Off with Jen to the school, and then, a bit fed up—why doesn't she kiss me goodbye any more? In any case, it was not much fun in that park, I suppose (sag rapes!), so off down to the beach again, after which I considered going up Culver cliff, and got about half way up before I gave it up as a bad job, and off onto a nearby road, through a pigsty and back, and finally into Brading from Bembridge way, and back, exhausted, to the caravan, where I stayed a while, recovering, and the started playing a bit of music etc, and decided eventually to listen to the radio, and in the process fell into a by-the-radio-troubled sleep until about 1300 hrs, after which into the house and read the paper until Mrs. Hallett showed her face, and then helped her lay the table, and had a lunch which she considered dreadfully late, although it was only at about 1345.

After lunch, no washing up wanted, and so took Prince for a walk, which is becoming just about a daily thing nowadays. I have come to the conclusion that carrying a Bonio in one's pocket does not do much good keeping dogs away from one. Back again, gave him his Bonio, and then into the caravan, where Peggy almost immediately joined me and started talking about sex, love, care, sex, etc, and hung about for over an hour, telling me that I wanted to sleep with her (well—I wouldn't kick her out of bed, but that is about as far as it would go) and asking me to tell her (in German) that I loved her, which I refused, as she might hold it as incriminating evidence. Eventually left her when I went down to get Jenni, and then Jenni and I came up again, we were alone in the house, and made little of the opportunity, and then started making tea, and at 1710, as if by some homing instinct, the whole family turned up independently of each other, within about 3 minutes of each other. Then had makan, and Jennie was off to hear a relayed live Billy Graham programme in Newport, and so took her down to catch a bus, and I drove back. Talk about loose steering!

Then messing around—quite a good TV night, and saw Man from UNCLE, Frost report, and a programme about hell. Jen back a bit later—how I love that girl!—and then off to bed, while Paul and I started preparing for tomorrow's trip to London.

Friday, 30 June 1967	Greenwood → Solent → London → Portsmouth →	Images for 30 June 1967
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Up about 2 minutes before the alarm went off at 0543 this morning, and lay in bed until the alarm went, and then quickly up and got dressed, and out to wake up Paul, and then had breakfast, after a fashion—in other words, I fried some eggs while Paul got dressed, and then we both went off to eat the stuff, and got our cameras, and were just about to leave for the station by foot when Mr. Hallett offered to take us, and so, of course, we accepted the offer, and down to the station, where we had a longer wait than anticipated, as the trains are all electric, and thus faster, now.

Got our tickets at Ryde, and over on the boat—they have also, in keeping with the electric trains, done up the accommodation on the boats. After a while, ended up down below, working out what we would be doing when we got to London.

Eventually on the train, which left Portsmouth at something like 0815, and reading AP and Autocar all the way, and then, just before Haslemere (where the Dolmetschs live) we were told to change for the slow train there, as we had day return tickets. Eventually at Waterloo only a couple of minutes later, and caught the tube to Piccadilly Circus, and then off to Dolland and Newcombe, Burlington Campkins in search of a Pentax-Leica adaptor, and in Campkins picked up a correct register D/N Pentax-Leica adaptor for 5/6d, which I intend to give to Jenni.

This photo was taken just outside:

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To WH, who were as unhelpful as ever, and told them, after another abortive attempt at the auto [extension] tube problem, that their SP's had old f/1,4 lenses—older even than Paul's, which I bought nearly 18 months ago. Then to Leitz, who would not sell me a spare rangefinder window, and DPS, who had nothing. Then finished off my HPS in Hyde Park, and off to Paddington, where we had much more of a wait for Bev than expected—and this after having caught a taxi. Eventually arrived Bev, none too happy, with the PCR and scope, but nothing else, and so off to Victoria by tube, and left Paul to put the PCR and scope in the left luggage there, and off to book Bev on her flight, and then back again to see “Blow-up”, which Paul wanted to see, and Bev was keen to see some flick, though quite soon it dawned on us that we would have to leave before the end, and so left after the last orgy, and off to Victoria, where we were told that only Bev could go out to the airport, as the bus was full. Said goodbye to Bev, and then downstairs to fill ourselves with beer—fastest I ever drank a half pint.

After that, to Edgeware [sic] road, and had a chinese makan, which was not too bad—as usual, they were pleased that I could use chopsticks.

If my recollection was correct, this was also interesting because I complained to the waiter that I didn't understand the Chinese food that people served in England, and that almost none of them offered the kind I'd get in Malaysia or Singapore. He was sympathetic and offered us a number of Malaysian Chinese dishes that weren't on the menu, including Fu yong hai, probably the last time I ate the latter for a very long time.

Off back to get our barang from Victoria, but were too late to catch the last train from Waterloo, and so off on the 2118 from Victoria, and arrived via Chichester in Portsmouth at 2330 odd, and ended up walking round to the car ferry, and on the way saw an old D type, examined it, were nearly had ...

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