My First Trip to Africa

Early in 1951, my father had asked me where I would like to go on holiday that year.   I am sure that any other child would probably have come up with a trip to Brighton, Wales, Ireland or even maybe France again, but no, I decided that I wanted to go to Africa!  I think this request must have left my parents a bit dumbfounded, but, so as not to disappoint me, a drive was planned through France, via Paris to Marseille and then a short flight over to Algiers.

Algiers Airport - 1951

A week was spent in glorious sunshine, seeing all the sights that Algiers had to offer, from the Casbah, which is the "old city", with a labyrinth of passageways to explore or get lost in, to trips out of town, to see the Bedouin on their camels in the desert. 

 Above and below in the Casbah

My mum was convinced she was going to meet a handsome Arab on a white charger, but the closest she came to that was our guide with a hired car! This latter was a Ford Vedette which was quite a large car for its time, manufactured by Ford  France in their factory in  Poissy from 1948-1954 and which conveyed us out on the trip to the desert.   

The Ford Vedette with me looking out of the back window!

The guide  in fact probably saved my Mum's life, as at one spot where we stopped, she had wandered off alone.   It was evening prayer time and many of the Bedouin  were kneeling down praying, not too far from us.   The sun was very low, and in moving away from the rest of us, Mum had walked across the long shadows of the prostrate worshippers.  A large pack of dogs came straight for her and only on command from our guide, did they stop, inches away from her!  He rescued her, and bringing her back to the rest of us, we were told never to walk across the shadows while people were at prayer; undoubtedly you were in serious danger from the pack dogs that followed the Bedouin tribes.

 In the desert near Bou Saada, I am obviously unsuccessfully trying my riding skills on a camel!

 Photos above and below at Bou Saada

El Hamel. another village that we visited in Algeria.

After our trip out to the desert, we spent a little time back at the St George Hotel in Algiers.  The hotel has now been renamed as Hotel El-Djazair and I remember it then as being quite beautiful.

Mum taking it easy in the gardens at the hotel with David and myself

Dad and I meeting up with some of the local monkeys!  Note, I have Topsy my doll in my hand here; this is the doll that flew out of the window on our trip to France the previous year, but was eventually recovered!

Another shot, of David and I  with one of the locals - they must have been tame in those days!!

On our way home, we stopped off at the Hotel Regina in Cannes for a couple of nights.  The hotel is still there, but my guess is that the cars that are parked outside it today are a little more modern!

Myself, David and Mum taking a break from the sun at the Hotel Regina.

Slow Recovery

Towards the end of 1950, I was feeling just like any normal seven year old should feel, and I was starting to wonder if I would ever be allowed to play sports again.  In September, for a slightly late birthday present, my parents took David and I on holiday to the South of France.  David and I were not good travellers in the back of the car, but we played all sorts of games, counting things along the way and we were both obviously distracted enough to forget to feel carsick! I remember that on some occasions, we used to count haystacks, but this got somewhat out of hand, as there were so many.  Today, haystacks seemed to have disappeared from the farm fields and bales of hay have replaced them. Can you just imagine trying to count hay bales!!  In later years, my mother told me when Dad had planned the journey with a drive right through France, she was dreading every moment of it knowing how carsick David and I had been in the past.  We had a really wonderful holiday and David and I enjoyed every minute of it.   I do remember at one stage while on the road David and I playing around with my favourite doll named Topsy.  We must have got a bit over-enthusiastic and dear old Topsy went flying straight out of the back window.   Dad duly stopped and went back down the road and Topsy was recovered; my life would never have been the same without her!  How I wish I had a photo of her to show you; she was just a rag doll, but so loved.  I think that this trip must have had some sort of ‘healing’ effect on both of us kids, as we were far better travelling by car after this. I must say though that even today there are some makes of car in which I would prefer not travel in the back.

Off to the beach with my fishing net!  1950.  My mother used to do the most beautiful smocking. Just look at all the work that must have gone into the top of this dress.

On our return from holiday, I was duly taken off to the doctor for a checkup and although I was told there was a huge improvement in my heart, most sports were still out of the question; however, I could resume riding, so long as I only went on quiet hacks around the countryside and I was also allowed to swim.   Mum used to take me regularly to the heated swimming pool in Bath and at weekends Dad often used to join us.  One day when I was playing around pretending to ‘life save’ my Dad, the attendant approached us and suggested that I should train as a life saver.  I did get my first diploma but somehow other things later took over my life and further certificates were never pursued.

During this same year, the house in Batheaston had been sold and we moved north into the Cotswold Hills.  I remember Dad used to take me into school and Mum collected me.  She must have felt like a taxi driver, as she also used to take David and me on regular visits to the ice rink at Bristol on Saturdays.  I had been told if I took it quietly, I could also skate.  I took to the ice immediately and soon started dancing lessons on ice.   I must comment here that about twenty years later when I went ice skating, having told everyone that there was nothing to it, I could not even stand up!