For anyone who knows my Father, you know he has the gift of the gab, which is defined as the ability to speak easily and confidently in a way that makes people want to listen to you and believe you. He is quite the entertainer! This blog is being started to record his memories of family and friends through the MANY, MANY photos he has taken throughout the years. Beginning with black and white slides, to coloured slides, to printed photos, and finally to the digital age. I'd like to be able to keep this in chronological order, but with as many photos as there are, and as they are in such a hodgepodge state, it makes it rather difficult. This will be written as though he's writing it, because he really will be! I'm just moving it over here so it will actually get posted and not "lost" out there. So here we go!

Monday 25 April 2022

The Beginning

The Beginning...

Ulrike left Germany at eighteen, speaking almost no English and giving up the position of a legal secretary to work as a domestic at Black Notley Hospital in Braintree, Essex, to learn English; which still amazes me whenever I think about it. 
Nurses Home at Black Notley Hospital in 1960

The view from her room


Vati said she only had to pick up the phone and money would be cabled immediately to the hospital for her return to Germany. Ulrike said that made her more than ever determined that come what may she would stay the planned two years in Britain to get her certification in English, thence to France for two years, with another two in Italy when she could return to Germany to a highly paid position in the government or private industry. The only fly in the ointment was me, and I'll never to this day understand why she picked me as she had some very handsome, successful, and wealthy boyfriends in Frankfurt; one actually met her in London the week after we had met. 0h, the ever fickle finger of fate as she could have had a much, much easier life in old Germany, but so happy she picked me.




Sixty one years ago (August 31, 1960), we had only known each other two weeks, when we arrived in Loughor on an August Bank Holiday Monday from Braintree on my Vespa. Back then there were no motorways or Severn Bridge, and we traveled 252 miles through the night. I had a list of towns we would pass through; Dunmow, Bishops Stortford, Aylesbury, the Cotswolds, Cheltenham, Chepstow, Cardiff to Swansea and 'twas a totally different world back then.
       Unpacked the scooter, hugs and kisses from Grannie Loughor who hurriedly made sandwiches and after packing an apple tart and thermos of tea, we left for the Gower, only for the clutch to burn out upon arrival a few miles from the coast. Nonetheless, we had a wonderful day despite having to carry a heavy blanket and a hamper of food, towels, etc., and stayed on the beach until evening.
       The worst day of the year to break down and we queued forever to get on a bus with other holiday makers to Swansea, as in those days cars were a luxury and most people used public transportation. Queued again for the Loughor bus and it was dark when we returned to Gwyder Place where Uncle Idwal arranged for the local garage to pick up the Vespa, but it took almost a week to be repaired.
     Thus, we headed by bus to Maesteg (three buses as a matter of fact) to meet the family who adored Mom and she won their hearts. My cousin, seven months pregnant, insisted we visit Porthcawl where she proceeded to go with Mom on the roller coaster and other rides! The following day we returned again to Porthcawl by bus where Mom contemplated kidnapping a Corgi but that's another story! 
The Welsh Corgi adopted us for several hours


Thence back to Loughor where Mom met the Griffiths side of the family; bowled them all over and 'twas time to head back to Braintree.
     Mom noticed the difference between the English and the Welsh; inasmuch, the English were friendly but reserved, whereas, the Welsh loved to hug and kiss!! Four months later we were married and August, 1962, returned to live in Wales, leaving for America in August, 1969, but it all began early August, 1960, through the ever fickle finger of fate when we met for the very first time. Sometimes fairy tales really do happen.

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