Hello everyone
Once again it is time for the monthly international creative writing challenge and this month the theme is… well actually there is some debate as to whether the theme was the road less travelled or the road not taken. I took it to be ‘the road not taken’ but the two phrases are very similar and do mean the same thing as I definitely have a road I didn’t travel down and do sometimes think about how I ought to have travelled down it. It’s not a huge regret, but it is a regret nevertheless.
You’ll see I took the theme very literally. And the story is all about timing. I am someone who lived through the hippy era and there was a window of opportunity when I could have taken my dressing up as a hippy to another level. I have no photographs of me in my hippy kaftans, but I can show you this.
That was how my hair was, although I often had it permed to be even more unruly, and that blouse is actually a nightdress belonging to my grandmother, which I shortened and wore as a tunic over a flowing skirt or jeans. Here’s another old pic.
That parting in the middle was very typical in those days and also note the sleeveless suede jerkin with the long fringes, which was very on-trend. We were in Ireland on a horse and caravan holiday and I was stopped at the airport and my suitcase searched. I’m sure they thought I had some dope somewhere!!! I absolutely did not!
But this is about the road I did not take. Can you picture this? There used to a Hippy Trail, which took people to Afghanistan and beyond. You’d be part of maybe something quite well organised, or you could just raise the money and get into a battered old van and away you’d go. You would begin the journey in various parts of Europe and then go on through Europe and out into Istanbul, then Tehran, Herat, Kandahar, Kabul, Peshawar and Lahore and then onwards to Nepal and South East Asia, usually stopping by the time the van got to Kathmandu. I mean, imagine! Of course, probably the majority in these vans would have been stoned out of their minds much of the time, and there are stories of hippies who just frittered their lives away in various parts of South East Asia getting thinner and thinner on all the drugs that they were available.
The thing is I should have gone on that trail as my father, who’s career began in the Indian Army well before the war, had been stationed on the North West Frontier of India (which of course is now Pakistan). You see, all the vans went through the Khyber Pass and that’s where he was posted (for one year) as well as a further three year posting further down the border with Afghanistan (Chaman). And although the hippy trail kind of died out in the 1970s (due to the Iranian revolution and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan) it was still possible to go on a trip to Afghanistan and, indeed, go up the Khyber Pass (on a little train) organised this time by quite bona fide tourist companies, like this one. So not having done the hippy trail in the late 60s, later on in the 80s and 90s I often looked at this particular company’s website to look at trips to the area where my father was posted. And did I go? No I didn’t. Of course, travel to Afghanistan is completely off the books now, most of the guided excursions in that area stopped after 9/11 but it is completely out of the question now that the Taliban has taken over the country.
I do regret not going. And why did I not go down that road? Well in the 60s I was rebelling against my father and anything to do with his life, so obviously I was not going to go anywhere near where he was posted. Instead I yearned to be more European and cosmopolitan and au fait with France and Italy and anywhere in Europe really. And in the 90s before 9/11 there was always a good excuse, and actually we’re not really intrepid travellers and especially then when I had a lot of IBS. I thought my poor intestines would never stand up to the travel and the food. But I should have gone just to satisfy my curiosity at the life my father led before his marriage, and all of this before the war – we’re talking about the 1930s.
Btw, remember, my father wasn’t in the British Army, he was in the Indian Army, which was a totally different experience to being a Brit in a British regiment. So in effect, he lived the life of the Raj and Empire. Naturally, you may ask what were they doing, these British officers in the Indian Army? Well that would take a whole bunch of paragraphs on our Empire days to explain, but in a nutshell, no, they were not fighting the Indian population or anything like that, no, they were mainly patrolling the border to keep the ‘wily Pathan’ (my father’s words) away from India. That was their role, and indeed we had 3 wars with Afghanistan to do exactly that. But even when there wasn’t an actual war with Afghanistan, troops were needed on the border for skirmishes and even near wars. Indeed snipers would fire on the troops and the British officers on certain roads throughout the time the British were in India. I should have touched base with this unique experience of a life long gone, and a way of life long gone. But to give you a just a hint of their life, here are three photos of this extraordinary time.
My father is on the left, in the middle is one of the wives of a British officer who had elected to stay in India rather than be one of the wives that remained in England, and another officer is on the right. This was ‘Bouncy’ Page nicknamed because he was an awful rider and just bounced up and down on his horse. In the 1930s Indian Army regiments were not ‘motorised’ and they would go everywhere by horse, or, of course, marching, and if going long distances, by train. Note the silver flagons they have in their hands – all part of the life in those days of a British officer. What about those plus fours! And don’t you rather like the shoes of the woman in the middle.
Here below is an interesting pic.
This is the Khyber Pass and there is the same woman on the actual border between India and Afghanistan. Now let’s think about this photo. There she is looking as though she’s wearing the type of clothes that could appear on the pages of Vogue. If it was at all possible for anyone to be in that exact spot today, at the very least they’d be wearing full body armour, a flak jacket, and a tin hat, and would be a foreign correspondent or something like our Orla Guerin who reports for the BBC. But actually it isn’t possible these days. The casualness of the Brits there in this pic. They are nonchalant, as it is their right to be there – in the 1930s. A time and era long gone.
And I could have gone to this exact spot, the train station at Landi Kotal, where my father has just arrived for his first posting in India.
My dad is with his very good friend, Jai, who was at Sandhurst training to be an officer at the same time as he was.
Anyway, instead of being an intrepid traveller who braved the vicissitudes of a trip to Afghanistan I went to Switzerland and worked for two years as a nurse in a psychiatric hospital. And that is a whole other story, which I shall tell you in Travel Part 2, which I promised you some time ago! So I was kind of brave and intrepid but not that brave! But on the other hand, it was kind of brave, as believe me living and working in a country is very different to being a tourist, which is what you are even if you go on a bold and daring trip.
So that’s my road not taken or travelled. Thanks for reading this and more about my travels (to Switzerland) another time. But. Before I introduce you to the other lovely bloggers who take part in this challenge I’d just like to tell you that when I was older and more mature (!) and wasn’t always arguing with my father, I did ask him to write about his time in India. And you know what, he did. He wouldn’t show me what he wrote before he died but there it was, dozens of exercise books all tied up with string. And think on this, he wrote it out all by hand, and because he couldn’t correct his mistakes he re-wrote it twice, so there are 3 versions of his memoir. I unwrapped the many exercise books packed with his tiny left-sloping handwriting and typed up the final version which I eventually gave to the National Army Museum in London, where it resides today for researchers to look at his experience.
The whole memoir is incredibly detailed and 10 years after his death I published his memoir for others to read. It was very well received by academics and the military and I gave several talks on the book. Take a look at my website, which has a link to my publishing site, a website which I built myself in the days before blogging platforms – that was tricky! Furthermore the whole experience of editing his memoir was a colossal one and I got help from friends and academics for which I am forever grateful. And during this time I became so familiar with my father’s experiences that I did actually feel as though I had travelled down his road. So I do feel that while I did not take one road myself I did walk down his road – which is an interesting take on this month’s theme.
But it’s time to introduce you to all the other lovely bloggers who are participating this month.
First of all, here is Mary Katherine of mksadventure. com who thought up this theme. She says she chose this month’s prompt, thinking about how our lives trajectories are so often determined by a few key decisions, often when we are too young to have the benefit of our own experience or perspective. See if her reflections make you think of those pivotal points in your own life, and how things might have gone differently, for better or for worse. Find out more when you click on this link.
Here is Gail from Is This Mutton, who initiated this challenge – well done you Gail! She took a different view, looking at two roads she was forced to take. How did they turn out? The result is surprising. Click here to read her piece.
Then there is Debbie of Debs World . She says she misread the prompt and so has gone and on about the road less travelled in her post – the way she came to be a teacher via a different route than most would take. As she shows, the road less travelled isn’t always easy; it requires courage to step away from the crowd and define your own story, but she is a firm believer that we should celebrate the beauty of forging our own paths. Click on this link to read all about this.
Sue who writes women living well after 50 looks at why we should reflect but not regret the road not taken, but it’s never too late to change and take new roads and opportunities. Click here to see what she say.
Suzy who writes the The Grey Brunette blog says from planning a future in psychology in England to an unexpected love on her 16th birthday, her journey unfolds, proving that the road not travelled led her to a life she wouldn’t change for anything. Read all about this when you click here.
Marsha who writes Marsha in the Middle blog knows the roads she could have taken at certain points in her life. But those roads weren’t winding, tree lined, and ending happily ever after. The road not travelled could have been all that and more. Does she regret it? Hmmm…. you’ll need to click here to see!
That really is all now. If you’ve read this to the end – thank you so much
With love, Penny, the Frugalfashionshopper
Hi Penny, this was a great way of looking at the prompt for Tell Us About – I’ve thoroughly enjoyed everyone’s posts so far. Your father’s story is so interesting and is such a different time it’s hard to comprehend isn’t it? Those fashions and photos from back in the day are fabulous and tell a very different story to today. Although you didn’t do the hippy trail you sound like you did hav e some adventures! A great post and your website on your father was very interesting and a huge effort – well done!
Hi Debbie and what a great theme this was! Yes, my father’s life before he married my mother seems to distant and unbelievable but it was a very normal thing to do in those days – it’s hard to comprehend, isn’t it. The fashion though! Love that woman’s shoes. And I was quite adventurous as living in foreign country is so different to being a tourist. But I guess you know that having moved to the UK for a time with young children.
And wow you looked at the other website – thanks so much 😄
Hi Penny, Not sure about everyone else but I could not download your previous post about round up of 2023.
Could you send it again please?
Sandra
We’re having some awful problems with this blog. For want of a better description, as I find it very complicated, the blog is having some intermittent ‘outages’, so some people hit the blog and it’s fine and don’t encounter anything untoward, and some like you get nowhere at all. When everything is OK you should be able to get to that last post easily.
The thing is techy Mr F can’t solve it so we have to go theWordpress people ands ask them to sort it. And frustratingly, sometimes Mr F can see the problem but hasn’t any idea how to fix it, sometimes WordPress fix it but they don’t tell you what went wrong, and sometimes they say ‘fix it yourselves’ but don’t tell you how! We are tearing our hair out at this and all I can say is so sorry!
Oh Penny, what wonderful social history! I devoured every word. The clothes, well, amazing – just look at what Bouncy’ Page is wearing! I loved seeing the pics of you, very trendy all your life. I wonder how often it is that our parents subliminally impact which roads we take. In your case, not wanting to go to the same countries as your father at that time. I, on the other hand, seriously considered going into the Wrens to make my father proud (he was a Royal Marine) because I was the toughest of the three children and more likely to follow him than my brothers. But in the end the journalist opportunity beckoned.
Thanks Gail – it was a great theme. And yes, actually I believe that as we get older everyone’s life is social history and we should record it all and tell our stories so that the younger generations can see how things were. It was a very normal thing to want to get into the Indian Army, I mean can you imagine, but that was normal. As of our parents influencing our lives – oh my word yes, don’t they!!!!
And the clothes, oh yes! When I see you I’ll tell you more about the woman in the photo!
Thanks again Gail 🙂
Not sure if I’ve already told you but I have recorded my life story with the help of an interviewer. It’s now on memory sticks for the children, I couldn’t bear to listen to it myself! My voice wasn’t very good due to surgery and radiotherapy but things were looking very bleak at the time.
Hi Penny. I haven’t been able to read your last t two emails . They just won’t open. Is that something wrong my end or yours?
Look forward to hearing from you
Jo I am so sorry, I’m copying the reply I gave to another commenter. Here goes:
We’re having some awful problems with this blog. For want of a better description, as I find it very complicated, the blog is having some intermittent ‘outages’, so some people hit the blog and it’s fine and don’t encounter anything untoward, and some like you get nowhere at all. When everything is OK you should be able to get to that last post easily.
The thing is techy Mr F can’t solve it so we have to go theWordpress people ands ask them to sort it. And frustratingly, sometimes Mr F can see the problem but hasn’t any idea how to fix it, sometimes WordPress fix it but they don’t tell you what went wrong, and sometimes they say ‘fix it yourselves’ but don’t tell you how! We are tearing our hair out at this and all I can say is so sorry!
Actually he’s just told me that he’s thinking of a ‘plug-in’ that might help. Not sure what that means, tbh, but he’s the expert. So sorry Jo – as you can see we are working on it.
Hi Penny,
I cannot read the last 2 emails! Not sure why?
So very sorry Delyth (what a beautiful name)
I’m copying you in to a reply I gave earlier:
” We’re having some awful problems with this blog. For want of a better description, as I find it very complicated, the blog is having some intermittent ‘outages’, so some people hit the blog and it’s fine and don’t encounter anything untoward, and some like you get nowhere at all. When everything is OK you should be able to get to that last post easily.
The thing is techy Mr F can’t solve it so we have to go theWordpress people ands ask them to sort it. And frustratingly, sometimes Mr F can see the problem but hasn’t any idea how to fix it, sometimes WordPress fix it but they don’t tell you what went wrong, and sometimes they say ‘fix it yourselves’ but don’t tell you how! We are tearing our hair out at this and all I can say is so sorry!”
Mr F is working on this now and we will try some solutions – again many, many apologies
Hello, Penny
Oh, those hippy days! I was a young mum at the time, loving being at home, swanning around in long skirts – to go with my long hair (in bunches with centre parting!), tee shirt and flip flops. I even had one of those turquoise Afghan embroidered sleeveless jerkins edged with smelly fur! Remember those? Oh, happy hippy days,
Like you, I would have liked to have taken the Hippy Trail and was very envious of those who did although I loved my actual dearly. Even today, I still dream of visiting those countries you mentioned, plus the ‘Stans, to see both the architecture and the wild places. So yes, a lot of actual roads not taken, but no regrets. I’ve had and still have an interesting life despite not quite making it as a best-selling writer/journalist or an Egyptologist with sand under her fingernails or an academic at Cambridge! But I still managed to touch those worlds occasionally through the road/s I did take. So no complaints from this old gal as I did have my moments!
A most interesting theme this month, Penny. Thank you, and thank to all the other writers.
Zepherine x
Oh yes – that centre parting was actually rather nice. I had an Afghan coat with the fur that smelt when it got wet. Think that was because the leather was cured in a rather interesting way!
Like you, I do wish I’d done that journey but who knows what would have happened! As it was, we’ve both had interesting and fulfilled lives so nothing lost there.
Thanks so much Zepherine – glad you liked this month’s theme 🙂
I did that journey very late for a hippy. In 1978, shortly before the Shah was overthrown and Iran was very tense and hostile to westerners, and we arrived in Afghanistan just after a coup. I’d noticed all the garlanded portraits of the Shah and his family is shops hotel and restaurants and thought how loved he was – that’s how naive I was! But the Afghanis were wonderfully hospitable. It was Ramadan and whereas in Iran we couldn’t get anything to eat or drink until sunset unless we got up at about 5am, in Afghanistan shopkeepers would say. ‘I am sorry I cannot join you as it’s Ramadan, but may I offer you some tea?’ The women were dressed in short skirts, with bobs and sunglasses and looked very chic. I got dysentery, so you were right about that, and was completely eaten by bedbugs in Bamiyan, but I did get to see the giant Buddhas before the Taliban destroyed them. Sadly I have no photographs from the trip because they got lost somewhere along my other travels. To be truthful the trip was better in retrospect than in actuality as we were dirty, hot and hungry, but it was an adventure. And the only thing I really regret in my life was not going to the 1970 Isle of Wight festival and seeing Hendrix live before he died. I was invited but was too scared to ask my mother who I knew would have refused to let me go.
Oh wow, Umi, well done you for going on that journey and you are so right as in retrospect I almost (but not quite) think of my stay in Switzerland with rosy tinted glasses as in, ‘wow, I actually lived in a foreign country for two years.’ But at the time it was a challenging experience and hard, mainly because of the cultural shock of finding out how very different and foreign (duh) it was, and such a contrast to the England I knew. But you know what I think everyone should have the experience of being a ‘foreigner’ and not speaking a language fluently because you are indeed judged by your fluency. Overall it was a great experience though. Made me even more certain that we Europeans should get together, understand each other and work together, which is why I was so devastated when we left the EU.
But enough of that. What an experience you had even with the dysentery!!! And indeed I know what you mean about not going to festivals. Same here, my hippy look was just that, I was a very timid, conventional person really and only dressed like a hippy, never behaving like one.
Thanks Umi 🙂
Very interesting take on the theme and I’ve looked at some of the others too. Love the old photos ! I know the poem the quote is taken from, Robert Frost was on my A level English syllabus. I like his ‘home is the place where when you have to go there they have to take you in’ ! I wasn’t really a hippy, much too nervous and conventional, although I did go through a phase of wearing bedsheets and budgie bells in the famous summer of ’68. I wasn’t allowed to go to the I O W festival either although I was very into folk music &, underage, I went to pubs to hear singer/songwriter walking home at night on my own. Being totally directionless I made the mistake of getting married at 18, seems an incomprehensibly bonkers thing to do now. Still married but will always regret not realising my Qxbridge ambitions because no-one told me how clever I was & I thought it out of my reach. I don’t think that would happen now. I kind of re-joined the academic ‘road’ as a mature student in my 30’s but not quite the same I think. I’ve tried to take opportunities as they’ve opened up but always had a safety net of husband and home. The only thing we can say in the end is that if we had taken other ‘roads’ we would have had a different life but can never know if it would have been a better one or not
Tbh, I wasn’t really a hippy, I dressed up like one on my days off and wore a lot of kaftans and beads and wore my hair long and usually parted in the middle but in reality I was a very timid unformed young person who wouldn’t have dared to go on the hippy trail or even to music festivals!!!!! Btu I did decide to work abroad and that was an adventure and quite an experience – not all good I can tell you!
Like you I rejoined the academic world in my late 30s (graduating when I was 40) in the days when they gave you money to go to uni – that’s another, can you imagine!!!
You are so right and very wise Lynda – we can never know if we’d done different things and gone down different roads whether our lives would have been better. Glad to say mine has been very stable and loving for nearly 50 years. Thanks as ever 🙂
Penny – I LOVEDLOVEDLOVED this! I’m fascinated with the whole Brit-inter-war period, the 1930’s, last days of empire, and the Raj thing. I think my retired cavalry officer brother would love your dad’s memoir. I’ll put him on to it. This also makes me think of Jill’s (GrownUpGlamour) trek across Asia – sound like what you would have done. The things we can’t even think of today – have you seen the Liam Neeson movie “Taken”? How my friends and I rattled around Europe on a shoestring and never got into trouble just boggles my mind. Looking forward to your next installment!
In a way I too rattled around parts of Europe and I am amazed nothing too untoward happened to me. The way of life that my father experienced seems so different and unreal but it was so normal in those days. Many a young boy aspired to go to the North West Frontier and my dad did exactly that. Jill though actually did the trail – as I expect many Australians did. That’s so inspiring and intrepid and she’s still like that!
It really was a great theme which got us all thinking. Thanks so much for that Mary K 🙂
Loved those photos Penny, especially the Indian ones. My grandad was born in India, in around 1899, his father was stationed out there – he was an RSM in the Royal Sussex regiment. I have only one or 2 photos of his dad, complete with handlebar moustache and pith helmet! It seems so long ago now and I wish I’d known where he was stationed when I was there, as we were only about 40 miles away I found out later. He worked with horses when he came home so I imagine they played a pivotal role in his army life. I would have loved to know more.
Oh wow, that’s an interesting connection with India. Good that you have a couple of photos. I am so fortunate in that my dad annotated all his India photographs, of which there are many, and on every single one on the back is where it was taken, the year and who they were. That was so helpful when I edited the memoir.
Yes, it is so important for people to write about their experiences – everyone should do it, not just people who have led extraordinary lives, as all lives tell us about the time they lived in.
You’ll have to start writing about your life, Alison!
Hi Penny, I thoroughly enjoyed reading your post and found your family history very interesting. I think you were brave moving to Switzerland to nurse in a psychiatric hospital. It’s funny how some of our decisions in life are based on doing something the opposite to what we might really want just to prove a point or rebel. I’m not sure I would have been brave enough to do the hippy trail but what an experience it would have been. This Tell Us About… prompt has been wonderful and I’ve loved reading everyone’s thoughts and learning more about them. Have a beautiful weekend. x
The theme this month was so good. I don’t know that I was particularly brave working in Switzerland as actually I was really naive and ignorant about so many things. Gosh I said to myself when I got there, this is so, erm different – duh!!! It was a great learning experience though.
Thanks so much Sue 🙂
Penny, what a life! I didn’t realize your dad was in the Indian Army (actually, I didn’t even realize there were two different armies). I loved the photos of you…I wore my hair long with a center part, too. I just missed the window of being a hippie, though. I have never heard of the Hippy Trail, but I shall certainly look it up. Your posts are always so fascinating. I loved the photos of your dad and others…especially the woman and her shoes and that dress!! I wonder what color it was. I just realized your story sort of parallels mine in that we both rebelled against something. I cannot wait to read part 2!
https://marshainthemiddle.com/
Hi Marsha and wasn’t it a great theme! Yes, the Army in India comprised of British regiments and Indian Army regiments. The latter regiments were originally formed to defend the East India Company as the British in India came about through trade. The Indian Army always had Indian soldiers and British officers and then after the First World War more and more Indian officers like my dad’s friend Jai.
And we both were rebels – off to read your contribution now!!!
Thanks so much Marsha and I really will have to write about my adventures in Switzerland 🙂
I did enjoy learning more about your fathers time stationed in India and his time at the Kyber Pass. I did smile at the well dressed folk and that lady in particular. As you know we were there back in 1975 , following the Hippy Trail without the drugs, This was quite the thing with Aussies to do on your way to London and Europe or going home , that was us.
Your time in Switzerland sounds so interesting , that is my one regret not actually in another country.Is it too late, time will tell.
Yes, my father had what now seems an unusual life but not then of course. Then young boys aspired to be doing dashing deeds on the North West Frontier and that’s exactly what my father did. Yes, isn’t the fashion marvellous.
Indeed it is very different living in a country as opposed to being a tourist, even if one is travelling rather than taking a short week or two. You really get underneath the culture and begin to understand how different countries are from yours. That’s how it affected me!
It’s never too late Jill and you are both intrepid travellers. Thanks Jill 🙂
Such an interesting post! I remember those days of the hippies, the mid 60’s until well into the 70’s. I was never a hippy. By then I was married with one child but I certainly tried to dress the part. Indian skirts, or skirts which maybe reached mid thigh. I did not perm my hair but had it straightened so that it was poker straight and long. You might not have done the hippy trail but it was very brave of you to go and live and work in Switzerland.
I have not read all the other posts but felt a jolt of recognition reading Mary Katherine about her choice of college. My parents had both graduated from the University of Connecticut and it was always a foregone conclusion that I would go there too. I was very nervous about attending such a large college. I was fortunate enough to score well on New York state regents tests and earn a scholarship but it could only be used if one attended a college in New York. I managed to convince my parents that it would be a shame to turn down the offer and much against their preferences I chose a small women’s college where a few of my classmates were going and where I know I would feel much more comfortable. I majored in psychology which ended up being my profession, of course going on to get additional degrees. I met while future husband there at a mixer with another school, and though the marriage ended I have two wonderful children and and grandchildren. Even after 60 years I still have close friend and former classmate with whom I made my most extensive overseas trip with in 2019, a Baltic cruise including Russia and Scandinavia. There are other instances where my life might have taken a different turn but this one set the pattern in motion. Love, Darby
Apologies for this tardy reply Darby, I think that must have been when we were having the IT problems which I think are now solved. So glad you liked the post. I too dressed the part but was never truly a hippy, just playing at the role. I suppose it was brave to go to a foreign country and work there as living in a place is so very different to being a tourist or even a seasoned traveller, as that way you really get under the skin of the country. But I did it out of sheer ignorance of what I was getting into!! My word I learnt a lot!
It’s so interesting to hear about your life, Darby, thanks so much for telling me more about it.
🙂
Wow!! So enjoyed this glimpse into your earlier life. And visiting the site you have created in honor of your father and his service in the Indian Army. I cannot imagine how primitive the areas where he served must have been during his military career. How interesting that you were born in India!! And the reasons your father chose to join the Indian Army were interesting, too. My son-in-law is from Afghanistan and his father was in the Afghanistan Air Force until he died when Mustafa was just a toddler. They had to flee the Taliban so immigrated to Pakistan and finally to the U.S.
The life my father had before he married was beyond interesting and so different to the current world. And you know what, it was also considered a very normal thing to join the Indian Army and serve King and country in that far away place.
Do tell your son-in-law respect for his father and all Afghans as I do feel a certain sense of knowing the place as I studied the border where my father was posted, so carefully from many different sources, not just his memoir, and also went into some depth about the 3 Afghan Wars, which we never really won and indeed in one of them, the British forces, which in those days were the most up-to-date and modern of forces was decimated. My dad said, when the Russians invaded, they’ll never ever win a war in Afghanistan, it doesn’t matter how many troops or money you spend, the Afghans always win. I thought he was wrong, but no, he wasn’t, and of course, we (the US and UK) found that out the hard way too.
Penny, you have such a wonderful writing style and it’s always fascinating to read about your life! I think travelling to Switzerland at the time was quite a feat in itself for a young woman. And then to work as a psychiatric nurse? Crikey…I bet you’ve got some stories to tell about those two years! I shall look forward to reading all about it in your Travel Part 2 post! The photos of your father and other Brits back in those days are quite extraordinary. It really was another world back then, wasn’t it?
Hugs
Suzy xx
OMG do I have some stories to tell about my time in Switzerland!! I was so ignorant, but I learnt not just to speak the language double quick because I simply had to, but I learnt so much else in the way of life skills. Yup a psychiatric nurse in the days of those large hospitals.
I am so lucky to have those photos, all annotated on the back of each one with the names of people, dates and where they were. That was a treasure trove indeed. Oh gosh yes, a completely different world.
Thanks so much Suzy 🙂
I have another friend who was also a psychiatric nurse in a hospital many years ago (she’s probably ten years older than you) and boy did she have some tales to tell too!
Hugs
Suzy xx