Letters of a Travelling Lady

By Patricia Newell-Dunkley

All writers take a pinch of fact and beat it to a froth with a handful of fiction, then fold in a tablespoon of one friend, and a cup of acquaintances. This is the recipe for Letters of a Travelling Lady a visual feast with lush countryside and architectural delights of 1980s UK, forming the backdrop to the delightful story of a womans nostalgic journey home to sort out her heart. Written with verve and wit, this excellent diary is both informative and compassionate. The armchair traveler can accompany Priscilla on her romantic ramble as she travels through The Cotswolds, Sussex, Suffolk, Dorset, Devon, Cornwall, Oxford, Cambridge, Wales, Paris and Switzerland, accompanied by outstanding photographs capturing the essence of the era. Basing herself in London and visiting the highlights of the city, including Trooping of the Colour. Evoking happy memories for some and future delights for others. If you cannot visit England heres the next best thing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Nov 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493110636

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Patricia Newell-Dunkley. 504032-DUNK

ISBN:

Softcover 978-1-4931-1061-2

Hardcover 978-1-4931-1062-9

EBook 978-1-4931-1063-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 03/22/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

About the Author

Patricia Newell-Dunkley was born in Sussex, and educated at Ealing Modern School, London.

Moving to Australia she became a professional Porcelain Artist, sharing her time between painting and writing. Her books include Pot Pourri of Poems published in 1980 The Complete Guide to Painting and Decorating Porcelain published in 2009 by Robert Hale of London. A Bouquet of Flowers published by Min Publications in 2012. Narrative poem, Wallis- The Woman I Love published by Xlibris in 2013. Letters of a Travelling Lady published by Xlibris in 2013.

Her website is www.patriciasartworld.com.

PHOTOGRAPHS courtesy of Reginald J. Dunkley.

Chapter One

HOLIDAYS.

SYDNEY - SINGAPORE. 7 hours 55 minutes. In flight.

DARLING ONE, 20th March, l980.

Here is the promised letter en route. Departure was on time and we all boarded without incident. After the doors closed and we were airborne I’m afraid the trouble started. I’ll get back to that later.

First I must tell you that we are on a new Qantas Boeing 747-338. So much bigger AND with an upstairs - you will love it. It was the inaugural flight so we all had champers. Such excitement together with being my birthday lulled me into thinking I was going to have a stress free flight. My love, it was not to be. You will remember that dear old Mabel was to be travelling with me. Well I knew she was a veteran traveller having flown to the UK every year for the last ten. So naturally I didn’t worry about saying `yes’ to keeping an eye on her when asked by her daughter. Little did I know that the poor old soul is completely loopy lou.

All went well to start with and we were settling down to the inflight movie, which incidentally was `Jumbo Jettison’ with Mel Gibson (I foolishly thought it was going to be about elephants— but it turned out to be high-jacking an aeroplane on a grand scale). We were half way through when Mabel started tugging at my sleeve. I whipped the ear phones off and she said in her high pitched voice `I’ve had enough of this film, would you be a dear girl and go and get the taxi, we’ll be the first away.’ She then started to collect her odds and ends, smiling sweetly at me. My dear, to say I was nonplussed is putting it mildly. I looked into her face and saw her bright blue eyes had that glazed over far away look which oldies often get. She patted my hand and said `Don’t you worry, I’ll pay the taxi fare.’ Great Scott, I thought, she’s flipped her lid and we’ve only been on board two hours - with twenty more to do. Darling, I felt very ill.

The following ten minutes I spent trying to remind her where she was, where she was going, and who she was going to see. I could have saved my breath. She kept patting my hand, her old eyes merrily twinkling. I knew then I was in for a bad flight.

My next move was to take her to the toilet. Well darling you know what those aeroplane toilets are like- concertina doors, once you get in it’s the devil to get out. Dear old Mabel locked herself in and couldn’t get out. I had to call the steward who was very sweet (we even exchanged addresses) and finally he called the head steward - but how embarrassing. From then on I’m afraid I was a marked woman. Poor old Mabel kept going walkabout with one of us in hot pursuit - so ghastly…

PICTURE POST-CARD OF LOVELY LADY - SINGAPORE. No. 1.

(Wind behind us and we made half an hour.)

Well the last seven hours have been pretty difficult I can tell you. Have escaped for a while with John (the steward I told you about.) He kindly said he would show me around the airport and introduce me to a jeweller friend. Spent your lovely gift money on a couple of gold charms, a camel and an aeroplane - thanks again very sweet of you. John said I got a good deal. The airport is quite fantastic now, so much improved since the last time here. There is absolutely nothing you can’t buy.

POST-CARD FROM SINGAPORE. CONT’D. 2. RAN OUT OF SPACE.

Some really great jewellery shops and florists bulging with the most exquisite tropical orchids of such glowing colours as magenta, lime, and that soft coral. All boxed ready to travel - they revive easily by having a cold bath and last for ages I’m told. So I splashed out and bought a large box for Rosemary. I haven’t had time to think about your question - let alone an answer.

Sorry, sorry. Back to dear old Mabel. Uggh!

SINGAPORE - BAHRAIN 7 Hours 25 minutes. In Flight.

The new steward has been very obliging. John kindly put him in the picture before he left. He is going to help me all he can. His name is Terry.

The empty seat beside me has been filled by an oil man, works for Esso - going back to the UK for hols. rather interesting and very chatty. He is a food freak.Apparently his au pair girl is French, has got him madly interested in tucker (besides other things). He now adores cooking, he even went to a cookery course in Dieppe,`cuisine bourgeoisie’, ambitious but not complicated. Sounds like he had a good time. He went off a bit when I told him I’d just become a born again vegetarian. He was very interested to see my Lacto Ovo Vegetarian-Diet that the airline provided. Unfortunately so was Mabel who decided she didn’t like her Fillet of Beef Provencale, and opted for my vegetarian special `Y’ followed by MY Kiwi fruit and strawberries.

I didn’t have the heart to refuse her - first thing she’s eaten - poor old soul. Derek (the oil man) gave me his Bavarian chocolate - gorgeous coffee filling. I felt like grabbing his Pâté de foie gras, which looked and smelt divine - I was dying to smother my plain old water- biscuits with it. But after my goody-goody chat I had to restrain myself. I USED to love French Pâté…Derek has given me a couple of names of good restaurants in London, one French, Le Suquet which specialises in fish and chips, would you believe, can’t imagine a French restaurant specialising in fish and chips…in London.

Mabel has taken to singing out loud - Onward Christian Soldiers at the moment. Roll on Bahrain.

POST-CARD.BAHRAIN.SCENERY A BIT SPARSE - BUT HOT.Still ahead on time - this airport all updated.

Derek and I left Mabel sleeping. I found these little jade green tablets in her bag and slipped her a couple-well I was desperate. She has been out for two hours.Have just spent the rest of your fun money. Bought a gold chain bracelet. The man weighed it and Derek said it was a fair price for gold at the moment, so the charms are now dangling around my wrist, thanks again you are a poppet.

Derek has very kindly bought me a lovely bottle of Chloe perfume, that special bottle with the sensuous Calla Lily stopper shaped in such an aesthetic manner.I’ve always wanted one. I was quite overcome. He felt I deserved it. I haven’t forgotten your question - am musing on it - such monumental decisions need much deliberation. Love Love P.

BAHRAIN - LONDON 6 hours 50 minutes-In flight.

The last lap - thank goodness.

Mabel woke up just as they brought my Lacto Ovo Vegetarian `Y’ cold meal, followed by my fresh diced melon and rye roll. I ate her beef and spinach Cannelloni, and Derek (bless him) got the steward to bring me a mini-tin of Pâté de Foie gras (French) - I ate it all nonstop, it was divine. I went mad and had a brandy and got a double for Mabel.

Derek tells me he has a weekend wife. Does his own thing all week and shacks up with Stephanie on weekends.It seems to be working he says. I now know how to make smooth sauces, uncurdle sauces and mayonnaise, how to stop butter from burning and how to boil cream. All very interesting. I have promised to show him how to make a real pavlova… He’s actually been to that favourite restaurant of ours in Bournemouth, Casa Pepe’s. He was there for its tenth anniversary. It was a grand night apparently. We must all try to go to their Silver in 1999.

I have organised a wheel chair for Mabel for when we get to London. I’m not looking forward to that long walk pushing her from the plane to the terminal, but Derek has kindly offered to help. All has been quiet for the last few hours. I suddenly remembered that I had my water-colours with me, so I have been painting some flowers for Mabel who has been fascinated watching me. Wish I’d thought of them sooner. Mabel used to do water-colours when she was a gal at school. She tells me that she used to go back to the U.K. to have her children, (she has twin girls and a boy). She was interested to hear I was a twin. Poor darling will be eighty-nine this year.

There has been a lot of snow on the mountains and lowlands still visible - hope it’s not going to be a cold spring. I have promised Derek a water-colour of his favourite flower a peony-rose- he finds them very evocative (his mother grew them). Mabel is now playing with the water-colours.

My Dear, can’t explain why I didn’t want you to see me off - one of those things beyond comprehension. Cheers darling.Love love love.

PICTURE POST-CARD OF THE ROYAL ALBERT HALL AN IMMENSE OVAL AMPHITHEATRE WITH A GLASS DOME - WHERE THEY HOLD THOSE FABULOUS PROMENADE CONCERTS EVERY SUMMER.— YOU KNOW THE ONES THAT ALWAYS MAKE ME CRY…

Crisp but sunny.We’ve arrived…

My dear pushing the wheel chair was sheer agony, Derek struggled with most of the cabin luggage (including the box of flowers, two immense bottles of brandy, plus a carton of cigarettes). Between us we managed to grab some wheels when we reached the case carousel. Up until then Mabel was quite poorly, I thought she was going to faint away on me. When suddenly she espied her cases going