The 'Durban Castle'

My father's contract with his employer, the African Mercantile, included 'home leave' every three years, and this was due towards the end of 1952. My parents felt that it would be good for my brother and I to experience an English winter, but to keep that 'experience' fairly short they decided to travel from Mombasa to the UK 'the long way' - that is, from Mombasa southwards calling at Dar-es-Salaam, Beira, Durban, East London, Port Elizabeth, Cape Town, St Helena, Ascension and the Canary Islands - which took six weeks rather than the four weeks via the Suez Canal.

I have some vivid memories of that journey. We travelled first class so the food and accommodation were good, and we enjoyed important events like ice cream served on deck at eleven every morning with, occasionally, second helpings. I remember the magnificently decorated rickshaws in Durban pulled by Zulus in feathered finery, and the huge shark which swam beside the ship in one of the east coast ports. I recall catching a small black fish off the stern of the ship, this achieved by lowering a tin on a long piece of string - though I can't recall what I provided in the way of bait, nor how I obtained the tin and the string. I remember going ashore at Gran Canaria and being captivated by the brilliant yellow canaries for sale in cages. I desperately wanted one but my parents vetoed the idea.

As we approached the Bay of Biscay, the ice cream was replaced with bovril. The weather deteriorated, we had to wear thicker clothing, though however thick it was it didn't seem to keep me warm. And when we docked at Southampton I remember being amazed to see white men doing labouring jobs like mending the roads.

It wasn't a good leave. My father was ill with suspected TB, so we had to spend an extra two months in a bitterly cold winter. Fortunately, we had a pleasant flat overlooking the Thames: I recall having to cross Putney Bridge to reach the small private school we attended.

While there, my parents made the decision that, as soon as I was nine, I would go to school in England. They visited their chosen school, Glengorse, but I don't remember being either invited or consulted. When we set off to fly back to Mombasa - which took three days as the 'plane could only fly in daylight - I hoped never to see England again.