Driving Tests

Posted on January 9, 2026 | 7 comments

The first Friday of the year, so time for Five Word Friday, and my five words are
Driving Tests Around The World.

DRIVING TESTS

DRIVING TEST NO 1
Myfather-in-law bought me a car when I was expecting my son, so I had to learn to drive. I had been given a set of lessons for my 21st, but I hadn’t enjoyed those lessons, driving around central London on a Saturday, so I didn’t take the test, and as I had no real urgency to get a licence, there’s plenty of good public transport in London, I did nothing about it. However, there was a brand-new Austin A40 at the dealership, just waiting for me to pick it up.

Note – this is a photo sent to me by a friend. My A40 was white.

So I had a few lessons and applied for my licence. The driving instructor was very strict, making me reverse into tight spaces and around corners, etc. Reversing is still not my strong suit.

We were living just north of Glasgow at the time – 1962 – and so the test had to be taken in Glasgow. By the time my appointment came around I was about 8 months pregnant but didn’t want to go to the back of the queue again so I duly turned up for the test. I wish I’d had my camera with me when I saw the look on the tester’s face.

We got into the car on a wet, windy Glasgow day. At that time, many of the streets were cobbled and, of course, slippery in the rain. We did a couple of hill starts, drove around the streets, did some parallel parking, and drove through the centre of town. This was a bit hair-raising as there were many policemen on point duty for some reason that day. Although I was nervous, I managed not to hit any of them.

If I may say so, I took the test with aplomb, though the tester said he thought we shouldn’t try sudden stops, given my advanced stage of pregnancy.

I don’t know who was the most pleased to get back to the testing office, whereupon the tester pronounced that I had passed the test; and from the look on his face I think he was very pleased we got back safely..

Driving Test No 2

During the original two years we lived in New Zealand, we were allowed to drive on our British licences. But when we arrived in Montreal, we were told we had to obtain Quebec licences immediately.

So shortly after we arrived, my DYS (Dashing Young Scotsman) told me that he had arranged for us to take our tests. Two other men were transferred to Montreal by the company at the same time, so, with their wives, we all went off to the testing centre together.

Frank and Lise were from Paris, France; Alexandros and Maria were from Cuba, via Bogota, and then there were we two from New Zealand.

We duly arrived at the testing centre and were separated while we took a very cursory written test. Then we were each called in turn to take our driving test. The man who was to test me arrived and sheepishly herded me out of the door into the car. He then looked at me with hungover, bloodshot eyes and told me that he had very little sleep and was very tired, and I added under my breath, ‘hungover’.

We drove once around the block, whereupon he asked me to pull over and promptly fell asleep in the passenger seat. Well, what to do? In a car, in a strange land, with a strange man asleep. So I turned on the radio to some very quiet music and sat there for about 15 minutes. I then gently woke him, and he sheepishly told me to return to the testing centre. Upon arrival, he pronounced me safe to drive, took me into the centre, signed a form, and I was the proud owner of a Quebec licence.

When I told the other members of the party – well out of earshot of anyone in the testing centre – about my tester, they thought it a great laugh and very unfair. They had all been put through the hoops to prove that they were competent drivers, while I sailed through.

My DYS always said I was born under a lucky star, and I guess in this instance, he was correct.

Driving Test No 3

We had returned to live in Takapuna permanently and therefore, were required to obtain a valid New Zealand licence. I applied and was given a date and time to attend the test. The road rules are/were virtually the same as those in the UK, and so I was all set.

Except that I forgot. The children had left for school, my DYS had gone to the office, and I was enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee when I remembered. A hurried bath (I didn’t shower then, as timewas never an issue) and off to the testing station.

Fortunately, DYS had taken my Mustang that day, leaving me his car. I didn’t think I could take my test in a left-hand drive car here in New Zealand, where we drive on the left.

I was given a brief oral test by a very pleasant young man, then told to wait for the driving tester to arrive.

At that time, the NZ police force was split into two distinct sections – the police and the traffic police. So all those employed at the testing centre were employed by the Traffic Department or were traffic police.

The door opened and out hobbled a young man in uniform, with one leg and one arm in plaster. Traffic police used motorcycles, and he had been involved in an accident, which crushed his left leg and broke his left arm.

He greeted me cheerfully, and we set off for the car. No elevator in the building (c 1970), and we had to go down one flight of stairs. I had quite a wait at the foot of the stairs while he made his laborious way down. He had to stop when he reached the bottom, not only to get his breath back but also to overcome the pain.

A good start to another driving test!

We went to the car. He asked me to drive around the block. His comment was that, as I had been driving in three countries over a period of ten years, there was little he could ask me to do that I hadn’t already done. So again, once around the block, back to the testing centre where he signed the form, and I was presented with my NZ Driver’s Licence.

I thought that was the final time I would have to sit a driving test, and then remembered that once I became 75 (43 years into the future), I would have to apply once again.

Driving Test No 4

Following my misadventure in 2016, my licence was suspended for six months. This is automatic when one has a brain injuryin New Zealand.

So, after the longest six months of my life, when I relied on friends, family and courtesy of the ACC Accident Compensation Corporation, Driving Miss Daisy, I received notice of yet another test.

The first part was a test on a very old computer that simulated a car driving along a road. It was so old and didn’t work properly. The brakes were almost non-existent. Then I was given an iPad, and the question was, “Had I seen one of these before?” No comment. There was a series of questions, and I had to answer them by connecting the questions/answers to pictures. Then I was taken to a table where a few more questions were asked and answered, and that was it.

I heard nothing more until I received a letter saying I would be tested in my own car, with the tester coming to our house at 9 am on November 1, 2016. As an aside, the letter I received was addressed to a man, but it was addressed to my address. I phoned to advise the centre of this, to be told “we all make mistakes. I hope that man sorted it out, too.

Anyway, the day duly arrived, and the tester arrived with another person who was testing him. We drove around town, onto the motorway for a short time, then back home. No comments apart from directions all the time. Upon returning home, the two stood outside and said goodbye. I asked what happened next, and they said they didn’t know. So I was totally unimpressed with the service from that centre. When I spoke to my manager at ACC later to complain about the abysmal service and the employees’ unprofessionalism, I was told this was the only centre in Wellington licensed for such testing.

A couple of days later, when I had heard nothing, I called the ACC. My manager was away for the day, but the person I spoke with said that if I had been tested and the ACC hadn’t received notice that I couldn’t drive, I should assume all was well.

So, having advised my insurance company, I was driving again.

The other tests, because of my age, went without a hitch, no driving, just health and cognitive checks.

And now that I have decided to stop driving, I don’t even have to take the age-related tests.

7 Comments

Posted in driving, Uncategorized

Tagged Driving test

FIVE YEARS AGO

Posted on January 8, 2026 | 6 comments

It’s always fun to look back a few years to see what we were doing on a particular day. So today I’m looking back on this day in 2021. What was I doing and what was I writing about?

It’s no surprise that my post was about words. Everybody who’s ever read any of my posts will know how much I love words, how they look when written, how they sound, and their meanings, and their etymology.

On this day, the words in question were synchronicity, serendipity, and coincidence. I talked about how these three words were often confused, and I gave examples of their correct use.

Synchronicity is defined as –
the simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related
but have no discernible causal connection.
And according to Carl Jung, synchronicity is an ever-present reality for those who have eyes to see.

Serendipity is defined as –
the occurrence and development of events by chance, in a happy or beneficial way. and

The definition of Coincidence is – a striking occurrence of two or more events
at one time, apparently by mere chance.

In January 2021, along with the rest of the world, we were dealing with COVID, and our country was in lockdown mode , with all entry points tightly controlled to keep the virus under control. Our government’s swift, decisive response to the pandemic raging elsewhere kept our country relatively safe.

The final part of the earlier blog post deals with the definition of synchronicity and how it came into play in my life at that particular time. –

“On Monday, January 4, I posted about my word for the coming year. That word is Hope, and with it comes all the great things we can hope for in this coming year. Today I met a friend for lunch at a garden centre. The choice of venue was hers, and the reason for the location was to buy me my Christmas present. I chose a rose. She had arrived earlier than I, and on looking around the centre, her eyes had alighted on a particular rose. And its name is HOPE, and that’s the rose blooming in a pot on the deck. Without a doubt, this is Synchronicity at work again. And by the way, this friend is not a follower of my blog.“

“Hope can be a powerful force.
Maybe there’s no actual magic in it,
but when you know what you hope for most
and hold it like a light within you,
you can make things happen,
almost like magic.”
Laini Taylor, American Young Adult Fantasy Author
1971 –

And consider this –

If there were no such thing as coincidence,
There would be no such word
Heron Carvic (born Geoffrey Rupert William Harris)
English actor and writer. 1913 – 1980

Click here to read that full post

6 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged covid19, hope, words

First Wednesday

Posted on January 8, 2026 | 11 comments

“The beginning of knowledge is the discovery
of something we do not understand.”
Frank Herbert American science fiction author
best known for the 1965 novel
Dune and its five sequels. 1920-1986

Today is the first Wednesday of this New Year. What to write about today?

I could tell you about lunch with a friend, but it’s not interesting. Even the food wasn’t of any note, just a pickup from the fridge.

So, as is my wont, I let my thoughts ramble and landed here.

I am part of a group of four women collectively known as MAS (the Mutual Admiration Society). We four women share several interests, though, of course, we each have our own. One is into antique collecting and discussing them; one is a fabulous cook, spending her time checking and devising recipes; one is a keen golfer and bridge player, while, as you know, I dabble at writing, designing and running courses. And so, where did the idea for MAS come from?

Well, of course, it is not original to us. In 1912, a group of friends at Somerville College, Oxford, set up a literary society of women and called it MAS. Its members included Dorothy L. Sayers, Muriel St Clare Byrne, Charis Frankenburg, Dorothy Rowe, and Amphilis Throckmorton Middlemore, among others

While our MAS members meet for coffee and chat at least once a month, we also have special meetings/ outings, or other reasons to get together. In January 2022, the choice of outing was“The Secret Paintings of Hilma af Klint” We were told, “The Secret Paintings is one of the most important exhibitions ever staged in New Zealand. It is presented with the cooperation of the Hilma af Klint Foundation, Stockholm, and in association with Heide Museum of Modern Art, Melbourne, and the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney.”
Do you know this artist? Neither did I.

She was a Swedish (1862-1944), described as “a pioneer of abstract art, but for many years her paintings were kept hidden from the public” In fact, it was her wish that her paintings should remain hidden and secret for at least 20 years after her death.

She had her own MAS. In 1895, she joined with four female friends to form a spiritual group they called The Five. “They met regularly to commune with spiritual beings through prayer and meditation.”

Klint assumed there was a spiritual dimension to life and sought to visualise realms beyond the eye can see. When painting, she believed she was in contact with a higher consciousness that spoke through her. Like many of her contemporaries, she was influenced by spiritual movements, especially spiritualism, theosophy and later anthroposophy. Through her paintings, she sought to understand andspiritualism, theosophy and later anthroposophy. Through her paintings, she sought to understand and communicate the various dimensions of human existence.

In 1906, she began a decade-long project, The Paintings for the Temple with Primordial Chaos. These ten are huge paintings meant to fill a room, which they did in The City Gallery.

So a morning well spent. However, I was left feeling rather confused. This artist moved from abstract paintings, the like of which we may have said “my grandchild could do that” through birds and animals to finally arrive at Primordial Chaos. I am not sure that I will go back for a second look.

And thank you, Dorothy L. Sayers, for Lord Peter Wimsey and for making the lives of so many female authors easier.

“Time and trouble will tame an advanced young woman,
but an advanced old woman is uncontrollable by any earthly force.”
― Dorothy L. Sayers, Clouds of Witness

11 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged art, Klint, Mutual Admiration

Musing, Meandering, and Memories

Posted on January 6, 2026 | 10 comments

“In a world where thrushes sing and willow trees are golden in the spring,
boredom should have been included among the seven deadly sins.”
Elizabeth Goudge, English author of romance novels and short stories,
1900-1984.

The rush and bustle of the holiday season has, for me at least, calmed down. But of course, for most of New Zealand, this is holiday time, the time for the family’s annual vacation.

Now with nothing planned for the day, I decided to look back 10 years to see what I was writing about on January 6, 2016.

I see that in January that year, most of my blog posts were about the death of my late love, the Architect.

For those of you who weren’t reading my posts all those years ago, I reconnected with an architect that I had worked with in my property management lifetime. His wife had suffered for several years before she died, and my DYS (Dashing Young Scotsman), no longer young, had died several years ago. What started as a friendship morphed into a love affair, and in our seventies, we decided to spend the rest of our lives together. That was cut short when it was discovered the Architect had a tumour on his brain, and within a few weeks, he was dead.

On the Architect’s death, his children wanted the house sold. I had to pack up and leave. So, another change in this long and wonderful life I have lived. Note here I use wonderful with Merriam-Webster’s definition – marvellous, astonishing. This time, I moved to a small, self-contained granny flat in my daughter’s house. When her marriage broke up, I gave her the deposit for the house she purchased, and in return, I got 25% of the property, or the apartment. What was meant to be a short-term stay while I decided where I would live has become my long-term home.

And so to January 6, 2026, what am I thinking about? The wars and disturbances in our troubled world are never far from my thoughts. I wonder what kind of world I am leaving for my grandsons. Discussing this with friends over the New Year, we all agreed that ours was the lucky generation. The Second World War had ended, and life was settling down again; we grew up in a peaceful world. Our fathers, brothers, and uncles were not conscripted to fight a war. Life was easy for me growing up in a loving, supportive family. And the friends I was discussing this with agreed, although they were raised in various parts of the world: several in New Zealand, one in Northern Ireland, one in the US, and me in England.

Plenty of jobs for our fathers, mothers mainly stayed home and kept house, no need for 2 incomes then. And with the plentiful jobs bringing in regular pay packets, a few luxuries were introduced.

Of course, there were skirmishes around the world, but they were far away from us and didn’t impinge on our lives.

And life in general was innocent then. Children were disciplined both at home and in school. The out-of-control young people that we see regularly in our neighbourhood, toddlers and teenagers, were not seen. We can see how life was lived by reading the advertisements that appeared in the newspapers at the time. Way back in August 2011, I wrote a blog showing some of these adverts, including these screamers.

Click here to see the rest of that post.

Now newspapers are few and far between, with many of us choosing to get the news online or on television.

And now, how to finish a post that meandered through several topics? Perhaps reverting a usual to a quote. This is on another topic.

No matter how dark the night, we know that whatever happens,
the sun will rise tomorrow, and then all the shadows
will be chased away.”
Judith Baxter, Blogger, Mother, Sister, Grandmother and friend
1938 –

10 Comments

Posted in Living, Uncategorized

Tagged advertisements, Change Your Thoughts - Change Your Life: Living the Wisdom of the Tao

Today’s Rant

Posted on September 30, 2025 | 9 comments

WORKSHOP [FREE]: 100 Days of Writing: Let’s Finish 2025 Strong

I saw this in my inbox and thought it was too good to miss. So, with Chris at Bridges Burning, I signed up.
But what a disappointment! The first day was free, but for recordings on the following days, one had to pay. I found the misinformation in the advertising totally appalling. I thought many others would feel that too.

The first video was excellent, and from it, I made plans for the next 95 days of the year. Note here, I started on September 29, not 24, so I missed 5 days.

I now have a solid plan for my writing, so you can expect to hear from me more frequently over the next three months.

My plan comprises three components: a 95-day challenge, a monthly challenge (actually 33 days, from September 29th to October 31st), and a weekly challenge.

For several years, I have subscribed to 750 Words, a website that encourages those of us who practice journaling daily with prompts, challenges, and rewards for achievement.

At about the time I discovered 750 words, I read Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way and became totally committed to Morning Pages. This is three pages of subconscious/spontaneous writing, encouraged to be handwritten.

It was through this practice that I determined I wanted to be a life coach, and as they say, the rest is history. Note, I did it when I first woke up in the morning, sitting in bed with my first cup of tea. I used it as a way to clear needless and useless thoughts from my head, giving me a cleaner, clearer start to the day.

It worked when I was writing Stepping Stones, and so Morning Pages and 750 words are big parts of my 95-day and 33-day plans.

But back to the advertised 100 Day Workshop.

I thought the advertising was untrue, and I couldn’t ignore it. I have participated in several other activities through the London Writers Salon, and I thought it was worth writing to them. However, the response was almost along the lines of ‘tough luck.” They apologised if I thought the advertising was incorrect and gave a false sense of what was offered. They then reiterated how I could subscribe for the remainder of the 100 days.

Obviously, I’m not going to subscribe because I have taken so much from the first instalment that, really, I can continue with Chris and we will be accountable to each other

I thought about how easy it is to be fooled when there is so much offered on the internet.

The buyer is entitled to a bargain. The seller is entitled to a profit.
So there is a fine margin in between where the price is right. I
have found this to be true to this day
whether dealing in paper hats, winter underwear or hotels.
Conrad Hilton

9 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged advrtising, misinformation

FICTION FOR THE FEARFUL

Posted on August 31, 2025 | 12 comments

“Better to write for yourself and have no public,
Than to write for the public and have no self.”
Cyril Connolly, British Novelist, book critic and editor,
1903 – 1974

Crush those Skeletons

Over the years since I recognised that writing was my happy place, I have taken several Creative Writing Courses. Looking back over all those years, I wonder how it was that I didn’t recognise that I had always been writing. My many notebooks attested to this fact, yet I didn’t think of myself as being a writer.

Victoria University of Wellington ran one course I took as a workshop. It could form part of a BA degree or a stand-alone workshop. I chose the stand-alone six-week course.

Early in the course, the instructor assigned us the task to “Write about your skeletons”. We were told we all had them, and if we could put them on paper, it would be a good place to start clearing them from our minds. We were required to write them down, not type them into the computer.

The tutor reiterated the “known fact” (or, more accurately, the accepted fact) that transferring words from your mind through your hand to the page gave them power.

Note – research has shown that handwriting stimulates a bunch of cells at the base of the brain called the reticular activating system (RAS). The RAS acts as a filter for everything your brain needs to process, giving more importance to the stuff that you’re actively focusing on at the moment—the physical act of writing brings it to the forefront.

Author Henriette Anne Klauser, who wrote Write it Down, Make it Happen, says that “Writing triggers the RAS, which in turn sends a signal to the cerebral cortex: ‘Wake up! Pay attention! Don’t miss this detail!’

For me at least, this skeleton thing was something I didn’t want to write about. And then the thought of reading my words aloud to the group (and yes, it was a requirement that we read our pieces to others) made my skin crawl and my fingers curl. Yet, once I put it in writing, it lost its power. It wasn’t a big skeleton, just something I failed to do when I was much younger, but it had ‘haunted’ me ever since. I was also required to analyse what the problem was, how I felt about it and also what I could have done differently in that situation. Written down, I saw it for what it was — simply a blip on the long road I have travelled.

This task has stood me in good stead over the years when I have been writing and working on my ‘skill’ as a writer. I now write every day because, as we all know, we must practice and practice to become good at something. Remember that Beethoven, Einstein, Edison, Colonel Sanders, Clint Eastwood, and the Wright Brothers all worked regularly at their craft to perfect it.

So I shall continue to write. Whether for my eyes only or in the hope that others may read it.

***

“If we had to say what writing is, we would define it
essentially as an act of courage.”
Cynthia Ozick, American-Jewish short story writer,
Novelist, and Essayist, 1928 –

And then, many years ago, when I was completing yet another creative writing course, one exercise set for us was to write a letter to ourselves, either our older selves or our younger selves. The letter would be mostly fiction, but of course, interspersed with necessary facts. I haven’t thought about that course or the task for some years.

And then, one day, when I had the time to explore the internet, I discovered some interesting courses in France and imagined attending a creative writing course in a French Château.

One that particularly appealed to me was run by an author, Patrick Gale, whose work I am not familiar with. Still, I think I would be very pleased to get to know him and his writing by attending a course held at the Chateau Ventenac on the banks of the Canal du Midi in the Languedoc region.

Note that this piece takes its title from Patrick Gale’s course, which he held in October a few years ago.

But now back to the creative writing course held in Wellington, New Zealand.

Imagine a dark Tuesday evening in the middle of winter. Victoria University ran the course in one of its older buildings. I seem to remember that it was always cold in the lecture room; perhaps they turned the heating off once the main body of students had left for the day. The building was mostly empty, and the cafeteria had closed for the day, so we couldn’t even get hot coffee.

Fifteen of us started the course that the well-known NZ writer Bill Manhire ran, but in memory, only about eight of us completed it. This was no holiday course. It was hard work. The fact that such a large percentage of people dropped out was disheartening. Bill was a hard taskmaster, but he was inspirational. He did not give praise lightly, so it was all the more welcome when someone received it.

Anyway, back to the task. I chose to write as a 70-year-old to my younger self. Little did I know then how quickly the years would pass until I became a 70-year-old. I wrote as a fond (maiden) aunt might, praising my young self and encouraging her/me on my life journey. I don’t recall the specifics of what I said – we didn’t have laptops back then – but I do remember thinking, after completing the task, how nice it would be to receive such a letter from an aunt or a caring relative.

That then made me think of other letters I might write. It encouraged me to write to my parents, thanking them for the childhood my sisters and I had experienced and for the love and caring they showered upon us. I knew from talking to others that not everybody had been so lucky, and I thought it was important to let them know that I appreciated them. And now that they are no longer here, I am so very glad that I did write that letter.

`My question to you -“Is there somebody to whom you would like to write a letter before it is too late?”

“I can think of nothing more cheering than
receiving a handwritten letter from a friend or relative”
Judith Baxter, writer, facilitator, and friend
1938 –

12 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged Creative writing

Wellington

Posted on August 23, 2025 | 9 comments

“You can’t beat Wellington on a good day” is the catchphrase of those of us who choose to live in our great little capital city, whether we are talking about a sports team or the weather.

And today, here in Wellington, was such a day. The wind took a well-deserved rest and was nowhere to be seen. We are not called Windy Wellington for nothing. The sun shone in a cloudless sky, and the people came out to enjoy the weather.

Having made the decision not to drive, my big concern now is finding ways to include walks. I get over this by adding 30 minutes before my appointment, meeting, lunch, or whatever. So, today before lunch with my friend, I walked around the fabulous waterfront – exercise, fresh air and the big yellow ball shining down as I walked.

“If you cannot find a good companion to walk with,
walk alone, like an elephant roaming the jungle.
It is better to be alone than to be with those who will hinder your progress.”
― Gautama Buddha, The Dhammapada

9 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized, Wellington

Tagged walking, wellington

ANOTHER LIFE CHANGE

Posted on August 21, 2025 | 13 comments

“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count.
It’s the life in your years.”
– Abraham Lincoln

If you have read any of my earlier posts, you will know that during my life, I have had many life changes, from growing up during the Second World War in London in a home with loving and caring parents and two sisters, to meeting and marrying my DYS (Dashing Young Scotsman) at a young age. There followed moves around the world with two young children in tow, as he made his way in the corporate world.

We moved from Scotland to New Zealand and enjoyed living on the beach. All too soon, he was transferred again, away from the temperate New Zealand to the cold and dismal life in Montreal. This suited neither of us, and so we decided to make our life in New Zealand.

I have written about our 4,000 km trip along Route 66, on our way to visit my sister in Los Angeles.

After spending time on the beach in Malibu, we made our way to New Zealand via Fiji and Sydney. This time, we felt we were home. But our plans failed again, and we found ourselves on the move again, this time to the “coolest little capital in the world”.

We all thrived in Wellington. The children grew up, married, and each had two sons. The grandsons are all strong young men making their way in various parts of the world.

But when three of the grandchildren were toddlers, the fourth not born, disaster hit, and my DYS died.

Life continued, but in a very different way. Then, 12 years ago, I met an architect whose wife had passed away, and we decided to spend the rest of our lives together. But those plans were disrupted and following a diagnosis of brain tumour, he died.

I picked myself up and changed my life again. Now I spend my days writing my memories and running courses on writing.

And then a few weeks ago, I decided that the time had come to stop driving. I have seen too many people hold on and drive when they should have given up. I sold the car and now take cabs everywhere. We have a system here that gives older folk cab rides at a 75% discount. So while it takes some extra planning, it is doable. One plus is that I don’t have to find a car park.

“The longer I live,
the more beautiful life becomes.”
– Frank Lloyd Wright

13 Comments

Posted in Changes, Living, Uncategorized

Tagged growing, living

Sir Noel Coward

Posted on April 9, 2025 | 3 comments

After seeing Blithe Spirit again on Sunday and writing about it, I thought about other things written by Sir Noel, many I which I had heard or seen.

Way back in February 2012, I wrote the following post, London Pride. The name of the little blue flower is Saxifraga, but known to us all as London Pride.

London Pride

The undamaged St Paul’s Cathedral surrounded by smoke

If you have read any of my earlier blogs, you will know that I was born and brought up in London during the Second World War.

It is a well-documented fact that London was bombed by the Luftwaffe for 76 consecutive nights in 1940/41, and more than one million houses were destroyed or damaged, and more than 20,000 civilians were killed. We had an aunt who went to visit her sister and after the air raid warning sounded, decided to spend the night. A very lucky decision because the next day, when she and her daughters returned home, they found their house razed to the ground.

So I grew up surrounded by bombed sites where houses used to stand, and I thought nothing of it. I really thought everybody lived this way. Well, I was only a few months old when the war started and seven when it ended in May 1945.

All through these bomb sites, a little flower grew. Well, it grew like a weed and while it did have a Latin name – Saxifraga – it was quickly renamed London Pride. It came to represent the pride and the unstoppable nature of Londoners at the time. Noel Coward wrote a song about it. Coward later said that the song came to him when he was sitting on a railway station in London. He looked about him and saw the flowers and the people going about their business as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening and he became “overwhelmed by a wave of sentimental pride”

London Pride has been handed down to us.
London Pride is a flower that’s free.
London Pride means our own dear town to us,
And our pride it for ever will be……..

It is very sentimental and very outdated now. But at the time it was a rallying song for Londoners during the dark days of the Blitz when people were mourning the loss of husbands, sons, family members and their homes.

And now I must admit that I love Noel Coward. I have a couple of biographies and know the words to most of the songs he wrote. Another great favourite is “I’ve been to a marvellous party” but that has to wait for another day.

Note 1 – For the rest of the lyrics, click here
Note 2 – To hear the recording of Sir Noel singing the song, click here

3 Comments

Posted in Entertainment, Noël Coward, Uncategorized

More Memories of Montreal

Posted on April 8, 2025 | 3 comments

“Memories are the bricks with which we build our life.”
Judith Baxter, Blogger, mother, grandmother, friend
1938 –

I am enjoying reliving life from so many years ago. Would I have done things differently if I knew then what I know now? Perhaps… But the memories would be different.

So now to the letter This one, to a friend in New Zealand, dated September 11 1969. At the time, we were still living in two rooms in the Holiday Inn 13 weeks after arriving in Montreal.

“The furniture eventually arrived here in Montreal last Wednesday, but unfortunately, on the same ship as a cargo of lamb from New Zealand. As this is perishable, it has to be offloaded from the ship first. So the furniture must take second place. As the lamb has been frozen for so many months, I can’t see that an extra few hours while they unloaded our things would make any difference to it. But apparently, it is international law that perishables (meat) must be unloaded first So we’ve been here for another week, and there is still no word that it is being unloaded.

The children started school last week, and of course, they settled in very happily. They really are so adaptable. They are going to the local school, and I am impressed so far, The school is only a couple of years old. The classrooms are big, bright, and airy, and there are only 26 children in David’s class and 29 in Carolyn’s.

We had a very pleasant surprise on David’s birthday. The hotel manager gave him a party. The chef made a cake, and they produced hamburgers, hot dogs, and potato chips, which the chef had made. We all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Mr Kay, the manager, also gave David a pool table. It is something I’ve never thought of buying, but the children had so much fun with it. Wasn’t it nice of him? People do a lot of unexpected, good things. But this guy is very fond of David. They have a water pistol battle going on. Only hope David never shoots him where he’s all dressed to go out!

Bob bought me a beautiful car a couple of weeks ago. It’s a Mustang Mach 1 with a 351 engine It really is a flying machine. -Very sporty and a bright aquamarine colour with a gold stripe down the side. It is very smart. Half-crown to talk to me now! It arrived on David’s birthday, so he is convinced it was a present for him.

The boys will be back at school by now. I must say that after having my children around for 5 months, I really missed them when they returned to school. But they are so much happier now because they need school and other children to play with.

Has Mrs Bowden left school? David was very excited when I told him that she was having a baby. We have just had long discussions, and are still having them about babies and how they get into tummies, and how they are born, so when I told him about Mrs Bowden, he was really excited.

I didn’t tell you that last week, Carolyn swam 20 lengths of the pool here, about 600 yards. I am in awe. Even at my best, I don’t think I could ever have done that.

Well, Shirley, that’s it again. One of these days, something earth-shattering is going to happen to us, and then you’ll get a really newsy letter. But until then, sorry Kid, just nothing exciting.

Anyway, we’re thinking of you all. Love from all of us to all of you.”.

And from the Montreal Gazette of June 1, 1999 –“Give Peace a Chance” was recorded on June 1, 1969, in Room 1742 of the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal, Canada, during John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s “Bed-In for Peace”.