I returned to London after my Christmas experience in Swansea. I had a new job at Norwood Junction. A lot more sophisticated and comfortable than my last job in Bethnal  Green. The pharmacy was also owned by a widow. 

When I arrived at the shop each morning after struggling with the crossword in the newspaper, she would take the paper and finish the crossword within minutes. Astonishingly, the paper would be returned to me with a look of triumph in her eyes. 

The shop was not modern by any means. It was there that I realised that the professional aspect of pharmacy was doomed and probably its future as well. Prescribed medicines were rapidly replacing compounded preparations with proprietary brands. The growing supermarket concept was replacing the traditional ‘corner store’ and chemist shop.

I had a midweek day off, I spent the time exploring London. I loved the city, it was there to be explored, discovered and enjoyed, it was full of intrigue. I never tired of it, I knew where to get the best snacks and meals. I spent time in South Africa House writing letters and if the weather was bad, there was a cinema nearby showing short news clips similar to what we find on YouTube today.

I am so grateful to have been there at that time. Life and the atmosphere has changed so much, it is so crowded now. Before we arrive in the city these days, we already know so much about it. We have seen all that there is to know on TV and the Web, there is no longer any fascination.

I remained at Norwood until Spring before doing a rapid tour of the UK from Lands End in the South to John o’ Groats in the North.   Once back in London, I returned to South Africa by air.

 To continue my journey after my epic trip through Europe, I was back in London. I had no money, I needed an immediate job and I found one!

After a visit to an agency specialising in jobs for pharmacists, I was offered a job to start immediately in Bethnal Green. That was not the choicest of places but the pay was good. I was a professional in those days and well paid. Almost all medicines were compounded and demanded a level of competence. 

There was a lot of poverty and illness in Bethnal Green. My first job each day was to make half a gallon of Phenol Gargle for I knew it would be in every prescription. I wonder now if this COVID epidemic was any worse than bronchitis and pulmonary diseases of those days. 

Life’s comforts in those days were very basic. The dispensary had a glass roof as if it was a converted greenhouse. It was very cold and heated by a simple paraffin heater that periodically overflowed and caught fire. Often, in the evenings as I groped my way to the underground station, the fog would be so dense that I could see nothing. Not even my hand immediately in front of my face. I had to seek and feel for one landmark after another. If I lost my way, it could have been disastrous. 

There were no large convenience stores and the streets were often lined with barrows selling fruit and vegetables. The fruit was almost always the choicest South African produce. South African wines dominated shop shelves and had sophisticated labels that made them look cultured.

It was not to last, however, for the media and politicians were making the most of Apartheid. Front pages of newspapers bore photographs of SA police dispersing riots and before long it had all disappeared. It was replaced by produce from Australia and other countries. I can’t help thinking as I write, that even today, South Africa could be a world bread-basket. 

In spite of the discomforts at Bethnal Green, I remained there until Christmas in 1959. The shop was owned by a widow who lived above the shop together with her family, her late husband had been a pharmacist. I often thought that the reason I was given the job was that no one else would accept it. However, I was somewhat desperate and the money was good.

I spent Christmas at 47 King Edward’s Road in Swansea. My mother, who was born in 1894, lived there

for some period. It was my cousin, Barbara, whom I had never met that was living there at the time of my

visit. It was quite an emotional journey and the experience of travelling to Swansea. I caught a coach from

London to Swansea and arrived there in the early hours of the morning. While looking at all the homes we

passed, I felt sorrowful and dejected not being at home. The coach took a devious route and passed many

serene homes with subdued lighting, Christmas trees and decorations.

I fully expected to encounter Father Christmas on the way but alas I saw no sign of him. Perhaps I did, it

was his Spirit that made the difference.

Once in Swansea, I was ushered to a room way up in the attic. I was immediately plunged into the

19th Century. The room was old, the furniture old and the wind howled through the crevasses around the

window. It all added to the atmosphere, the only thing missing was a gas lamp and a candle.

My mother often spoke of Cockles and Muscles, the seafood they ate in her youth. For old times sake,

I was provided with a plateful, I found them unpalatable, they had to be fried before I could make another

attempt at eating them.

I knew nothing of the wealth of other members of our party. I doubt that anyone had any idea of how long we would be travelling. No one seemed to care anyway. There were never any arguments or discontents while we spent the 8 weeks together. We lived rough, rough and tough indeed, slept mostly alongside the car or in camping grounds and we had no fear. Often, we would awake in the morning with our sleeping bags covered in frost.

I can only remember one night in a youth hostel. In the morning, when we arose, we were each given a chore. Evan was to clean the toilets, needless to say, we never spent another night in a hostel. We did try one that was like a castle on the top of a high hill. The hill had steep sides, all passengers in the car had to disembark so that the car could manage the hill. We had no sooner settled in the dormitory when we discovered the place was infested with fleas. We promptly departed only to find that the adjoining camping ground was teeming with mosquitoes. The water in the tumbling river alongside had a green fluorescence, I thought quietly, that water is cold, cold indeed.

Some nights we slept on forest floors amidst the fairies and busy rodents. The fairies did us no harm, they were too busy casting spells while the police that visited were otherwise preoccupied. 

I have no idea of what we ate, MacDonalds only started in 1955 or Kentucky Chicken in 1952 so they were not available. We ate anything someone happened to find on our meanderings. It might have been a tin of soup, cheese but mostly healthy stuff. Some small villages we encountered had toilet or washing facilities.

I was unwell toward the end of the voyage, including the first 2 or 3 days in London. In the meantime, the trip was being planned in my absence. The first I knew of it was that I was to collect one of the two hired cars. Members of the group had been to the AA, and the tour route concluded. 

I knew nothing about the other members of our party, their wealth or their ambitions. I doubt that anyone had any idea of how long we would be travelling or how much it would cost. No one seemed to care anyway. 

There were never any arguments or discontents while we spent the eight weeks together. We lived rough and tough indeed, slept mostly alongside the car or in camping grounds, and we had no fear.  

Often, we would awake in the morning with our sleeping bags covered in frost. The route involved going North from Calais in France, where we landed after leaving London. We continued along with the East Coast of Europe and on to Stockholm in Sweden. From there, we travelled back southward through Central Europe via Switzerland, Austria, and Sorrento in Southern Italy. We were to return to London via the French Rivera. In all, we travelled 8000 miles in 8 weeks. 

Everybody had prepared themselves for the journey except me. I hurriedly visited an ex-army supply shop and purchased a "less than appropriate" sleeping bag on the way to collect the car. I had no idea what I was about to encounter and had to tolerate the inadequacy for the duration of the trip.

Crossing the English Channel had its moments; I was fascinated nonetheless. The ferry was very basic; I spent the crossing sitting near two engineers discussing the engine. The experience filled me with emotion. It was all so new to me; I was on my own and in an unfamiliar world.

We were the last to board the ferry; consequently, our car was the last loaded. When we returned to the car, it had a flat front tyre. Being the first car that needed to leave, imagine our plight having to get the vehicle off and allow all the other cars to disembark. 

A characteristic that began to emerge within my nature and became more apparent as I matured was that people tended to depend on me. I had to go and get the car as if no one else could. I did almost all the driving, and now all stood and waited for me to manage the flat tyre dilemma.

We landed in Calais and spent our first night on Dunkirk beach. Calais fascinated us since it had been a major port from the 5th century. At the time, it was an important centre for trade with England. It suffered much destruction during the battle for France in 1940, having been  bombed by the Germans during World War II

 After completing my apprenticeship and a year of full-time study, I continued to work in the same pharmacy. I was taking a walk during a lunch break when I met Evan. We had attended Pharmacy School together and became pharmacists at the same time. He informed me that he was about to depart for Europe on holiday and, perhaps, to find a job.

I decided that there was no reason why I shouldn't do the same. I sought out the Union-Castle Mailship office near where I worked and booked a passage on the Athlone Castle Mail Ship. The Union-Castle mail ships provided a fortnightly express mail and passenger service from Southampton to South African ports. 

The Athlone Castle sailed from Durban, arriving in Capetown after five days calling at East London and Port Elizabeth. Two days later, it returns to Southampton, a 14-day journey. 

There was not much choice for travel between Britain and South Africa at the time. The ships were able to transport about 750 passengers and were sufficiently comfortable for the long voyage. They provided a fantastic opportunity for young people to visit Europe.

Second class cabins were not unlike a train compartment with bunk beds one above another. One faced the possibility of having to share the cabin with a stranger. It so happened that we ended up on the same ship and in the same came cabin. We were young, and it was an adventure. The period on the ship allowed time to meet many young and inspiring people with diverse objectives; it was most exciting.

To travel by sea and experience the excitement of the farewells as the ship departed added meaning to life. The bonding and emotions expressed between friends and family were often heartfelt. At the same time, all visitors were allowed on board until the ship departed.

Our journey terminated at Southampton, from there we travelled to the Overseas Visitors Club in London. The Club was teeming with young South Africans and young people from all over the world. 

Evan found a convenient room that we could rent, not far from the Club in Earl's Court. I didn't have much money, and I was keen to find a job. However, I was persuaded to join a group of eight South Africans and tour Europe.

 I later discovered that the city was awash with pharmacy students. Some had recently failed the final exam, while others were waiting to rewrite failed subjects. Many had just given up. Next to accounting, studying pharmacy was considered one of the most challenging careers of the time. 

The turning point came when I attended my first lecture. I had no notebook or pen and not adequately prepared. The lecture room was full of students. The lecturer strode in, delivered the lecture, and upon conclusion, unceremoniously marched out; and so did many others.

I remained for a period deliberating upon the experience and concluded that I was now on my own. If I were to have a future, it had to start now. 

Upon returning home, I discovered my father had found an apprenticeship for me. While investigating a recent incident, he had met the management of a large pharmaceutical wholesaler. They obliged by organising an interview, and before long, I was an apprentice.

Even today, thinking back, I have no idea of how I arrived at this point. Much of what I have written might seem strange to someone that has followed my story. I do not doubt that I was a very different child at school and did not fit the traditional social mould. I had no fear or feeling; if I failed, I just carried on. I assumed no distress; no one understood me. Perhaps I was considered impenetrable and beyond understanding. 

Nothing changed; my apprenticeship was harsh at first. As expected, I started with menial tasks and progressed until I was doing almost all the dispensing. Compounding of medicines was more professional and very different back then. 

Finally, I completed my concluding year of full-time study and qualified as a pharmacist, a year before Mike.

 So, where do I go from here? I returned home to a vacuum after the Drakensberg break with my mother. I had no career in mind, and neither did I have anyone skilled enough to mentor me. I had visited a factory that manufactured explosives and fertiliser, but that did not appeal to me. 

Suddenly, I had an inspiration. While living in Port Shepstone years before, I passed a pharmacy window and watched a pharmacist busy compounding medicines. I thought that to be a possible career and set off for the local pharmacy school to make enquiries. 

To become a pharmacist, I had to complete a three-year apprenticeship and then do two years of full-time study. Alternatively, I could study part-time, and if all goes well, I need only to study for the final year.

Part-time meant working an eight hour day, lectures three nights a week and on a Thursday afternoon. All that sounded horrific; I didn't have too many other choices.

Within my ignorance, I assumed that I would quickly find somewhere to complete an apprenticeship. I had no sooner registered when Mike, a fellow scholar at school, arrived. Mike was considered to be one of the more competent and capable boys in the top class. He knew me quite well, having spent much of our school career together.

He looked at me stunned, "Whatever are you doing here?" I explained that I had just registered for a career in pharmacy. "Glyn", he stammered, "Pharmacy is quite the wrong career for you!".

Undaunted, I withdrew and made my way to the local bookstore, where I purchased the prescribed textbooks. Upon returning home, my news was met with indifference. I was accustomed to making my own unprecedented decisions, like accepting the headmasters offer to move on.