John Edward Cooper’s Notes

• Postcards, and clippings from the holiday brochure, in a blue album (album with blue covers)
• Postcards in another album
• Loose postcards and clippings
• A brochure about the Brenner Autobahn
• A folding map of Interlaken
  

“Pole”: “Now you know what it was like to be in the Lencarsters!”

That was certainly a holiday with its fair share of characters: I can still picture “Pole” with his mum.

Wasn’t the incident with “Pole” and the “Lencarsters” one of the first things that happened after you took your seats in the plane?

Yes, my first encounter with “Pole” was in the plane. I remember walking across the tarmac and looking back the whole time, half-expecting you to appear at the last minute!* However, that didn’t happen, and we took our seats. Pamela, her mother and I sat together in a row of three seats. Across the aisle there were only two seats, and that was where “Pole” and his mum were sitting — “Pole” next to the window and Mum in the aisle-seat. I remember him leaning forward a couple of times and smiling at me, and then, after we were airborne, making his comment about the “Lencarsters”.
* See Entries in The Cooper Diaries for an account of why I was absent.

I went to the famous Sheffield for
the day yesterday to visit my
dear cousin Brian who is now
at college there. I was dreading
meeting the dreaded “Connie”. For
some reason I could just imagine
seeing her working in a record shop
trying to get everybody to dance.

“Philip, love!”

Does my memory of a Brummie couple belong to [the Austria trip]? “(What was his name?) had his beer while oi had a cUp of tea.”

The Brummie couple actually came from Coventry. I can’t remember her name, but he was called David. Wasn’t he partially handicapped in that he had something wrong with one of his arms? Anyway, she was telling us about their usual Saturday morning routine when they went out shopping together. They had recently discovered a pub-cum-café where one could not only have a beer, but also tea and coffee. Maybe in the Britain of the 1970s such cafés were not so common. “So Doiveed had his beer and oi had moi cUp of tea.”

Didn’t you fancy the daughter at Gasthof-Pension-Café Neuwirt?

I fancied Klara’s younger sister, Vroni. Klara worked in the hotel, usually behind the bar of an evening. It was there that she would say, rather abruptly, “What you want?” I actually wrote to Vroni on returning home (℅ Klara at the hotel), and she wrote back in very good English. She told me that, the following year, she would be coming to England on a exchange visit, and that she would be attending a school in Cheltenham. After that, I think the contact just fizzled out.

I’d forgotten the somewhat brusque Klara. I think it was she who bid us “Schlafen Sie gut!” one night when we left the bar to go upstairs. And it may also have been she who told us about the “Hängebrücke” and how to get there.

On the subject of the Holiday in Austria, I just remembered something else: pale yellow cheese with big holes in it! We had full board at Gasthaus Neuwirt, and the odd time or times when there was a whole-day outing, they provided a packed lunch, which included slices of the holey cheese in the sandwiches.

Yes, I do vaguely remember the packed lunches and the holey cheese. This kind of cheese is also quite common [here] in Germany, so probably wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I guess we thought that we weren’t getting a good deal, and that there were more holes in it than cheese! :-(

All sorts of half-remembered things come to mind… [e.g.] Ropy Austrian fags [cigarettes]!

I remember the ropey Austrian fags, too!

There was an attractive black girl in the other party. And there was an Iranian, whom I later saw in Blackpool.

Where was the other party stationed? Wasn’t theirs a skiing holiday? (Do you get skiing in September?) Did Philip kind of commute between the two? Pfunds springs to mind, but that was 30-odd miles away from where we were.… I remember the black girl and others waving frantically to us from the back of their coach as it finally departed — where was that? Luton? London?… Wasn’t there a kind of mutiny against Philip among some members of our party? I seem to remember him being pissed off and threatening to resign if the grumbling and bickering against him didn’t stop.

While we were at Untermieming, Philip also had responsibility for another group which was based, I think, and as you said, in Pfunds. They wouldn’t have been on a skiing holiday there in September because it’s too early. As far as our having any contact with them, I can’t say very much. I don’t remember the black girl, and the only Iranian or middle-eastern guy that I can recall was staying at our hotel. He was with a very attractive English girl from London.… It was this group in Pfunds, or rather the amount of time Philip spent with them, which became the bone of contention, and which led to the “mutiny”. I remember that exactly as you have described it. Looking at the road-atlas, however, I reckon that Pfunds is nearer 45 miles from Untermieming, so it’s hardly surprising that Philip had difficulty dividing his time to everyone’s satisfaction.

I’d forgotten that the Persian chap was at our hotel (and indeed, regrettably, don’t remember the “very attractive English girl from London”) but my record (which I’ve now found) of seeing him again at the Beehive coffee bar in Blackpool confirms it (“in our party at Untermieming”):

Monday 25th October 1971
Steve and I went in [the] Beehive opp[osite the] Odeon
for a coffee.…
I was v[ery] surprised indeed when in [the]
Beehive I saw the Persian chap who
had been in our party at Untermeiming [sic].
I didn’t get to speak to him, unfortunately.
Wrote Chris, home, 11-ish.

How funny it was to read that
you’d seen him in Blackpool
that evening. He was without his
girlfriend I presume.
They came from Clacton-on-Sea
actually as he was at the University
of Essex which is quite near there.
Small world, isn’t it?

I remember now that you saw that Persian guy again in Blackpool, but had forgotten that he and his girlfriend came from Clacton-on-Sea.

          15.9.71

Dear Mum Dad Nanny,

Further to my communication
of 14.9.71, I finally got
here.

It’s very nice when the
mist lifts. It hasn’t
done so yet.

We had a great time
scaring Pamela’s mother
today on a very
rickety swaying
suspension footbridge
across the river Inn
(as in Innsbruck).

Well, auf wieders—
auf wiederseh—
well, see you anyway,
Love, John

Innsbruck (blue album)




Innsbruck (other album)


Innsbruck (loose postcards and clipping)








We visited Innsbruck on more than one occasion. There was a daytime visit, when we visited the sites shown in the above pictures; and an evening one, a “Tyrolean Evening”, perhaps with drinking beer from a pewter-lidded stoneware stein, and entertainments including lederhosen-clad dancers slapping each other. (There was another evening when we went by coach to a village, where wine and spirits were flowing. I remember that I consumed, among the other beverages that were served, both my and the others’ schnapps, and that on the coach back I opened my eyes suddenly, concentrating hard to stabilise myself, because I found myself drifting off into a nauseous unconsciousness.)

I wrote to Chris (17 September 2011):

I’ve got a vague memory of walking up from Untermeiming to the junction with the main road and waiting for a post bus. Where were we going?

I vaguely remember waiting on the main road for the post bus, but have no idea where we were heading.

The only destination that springs to mind for the post-bus is Innsbruck. The postcards suggest that we saw the Golden Roof, the Helblinghaus, and other sights, and went in the Wilten Basilica and saw Our Lady of the Four Pillars — though all that could have been an organised outing one day. There’s also the memory of being called a Communist because of the red star on my T-shirt and being squirted with Chanel for Men.

Maybe we went there as a threesome. I now recall that Pamela’s mum didn’t come everywhere with us. She became friends with another lady who was about her age, and who was a bus conductress from Dover.

Italy (blue album)


We went by coach to the small town of Sterzing (Vipiteno) in the northern Italian province of South Tyrol. There were many souvenir and duty-free shops there. We went along the Brenner Autobahn: I thought we entered it near the Olympic ski jump at Innsbruck; but if Chris’s recollections are correct, we may have exited it there. On the Italian side, construction of the viaduct for the carriageway had not been completed, and (if my recollection is correct) we had to leave the motorway and descend into the valley. The view from the vantage point on the Jaufenpass, pictured above, was breathtaking; the postcard does not begin to convey the impression of it.

I asked Chris, concerning the “other party” (17 September 2011):

What points of contact were there between the two, so that I remember the black girl and the Iranian?

The only possible meeting point with the other group, as far as I can think, may have been when we made the tour into Italy, to the Südtirol, and when we stopped for lunch (or something) in a place called Vipiteno. This was a circular tour, and we would have passed through Pfunds before reaching the Italian border. Maybe they joined us on that trip.

“We stopped for lunch (or something)”, you said; the “something” could be souvenir and duty-free shops. I remember that we went along the Brenner-Autobahn (for I have a souvenir brochure (in German) and a souvenir sticker). I have a mental picture of the Olympic ski-jump at Innsbruck as being near where we joined it. A viaduct or something wasn’t completed on the Italian side, for we left the autobahn and descended into the valley; I seem to recall seeing the unfinished carriageway above us. I’d not really considered the geography of the trip, and had thought we’d gone there and back; but we did go along the Jaufenpass which I now realise is beyond Vipiteno (from the standpoint of approaching it on the Brenner-Autobahn). The fact that the postcard of the Jaufenpass is displayed below the one of Vipiteno suggests that indeed this was the order of events. Perhaps we passed through Pfunds on the way back. Could the Pfunds people have already been on the coach when we boarded it at the start of our journey? Do you remember a lake on our journey? I don’t; but the route (SS40-180) from the Jaufenpass to Pfunds would take us past Lago di Resia. (A more direct route back (186) would miss Pfunds and bring us back to the Inn valley nearer Stams.)

The only other thing I remember from that day is that we stopped somewhere on the Italian side for a comfort break. The way to the ladies’ toilets passed the gents’ pissoirs. (That indeed may be where I first encountered with amusement the word “pissoir”, even though it’s French; it could have been the sign on the door). And there was a vending machine with multilingual instructions; the English said, “Introduce a piece of 100 lire…”

I think that Philip referred to our day-trip in the Südtirol as the “Grand Italian Tour”! My recollections of the day are very similar to yours, but with one exception: as I remember it, we first headed in a westerly direction, and then passed through Merano before arriving at Vipiteno/Sterzing. I still have no clear recollection of the people from Pfunds, although I'm sure that we did encounter them at some point during the holiday.

“One of those dreadful Berni Inn places!” Wasn’t that some guy on our Austria trip?

Yes, those “dreadful Berni Inn places”. That was a strange comment to make, because I thought they were pretty good, actually!

That guy had been an officer, or something, during the war, and had been involved in the North Africa Campaign. He and his wife seemed to think themselves a cut above the rest of us. The wife wore pink a lot, and Pamela began referring to her as “the pink cow”. They joined us on the “Grand Italian Tour” and, when we made a break somewhere on very high terrain, I remember being in conversation with them (maybe you remember this, too). There was a clear sky and the sun was beating down on our heads, when the “pink cow” started telling us about some of her husband’s experiences in the desert. “Even in that heat,” she said, “they only had a water ration of one gallon a day — and that was for everything: drinking, washing and shaving!” At this point, the husband, in a very superior and Jones-like manner, interrupted her: “Darling, when you only have a gallon of water a day, you do NOT shave!”

Feldkirch: “That must mean the church in the field.”

And a restaurant with an entrance-hall full of clocks. No prizes for guessing what Connie said!…

“Oooh, look at all the clocks!” said Connie, as the guy standing next to her started to cringe, just waiting for her to say it!

[i] A trip to Grindelwald, affording a grand view of the Eiger: Cf. 13 July 2019.

I wrote to Chris (17 September 2011):

I seem to remember that our party was split between two hotels when we got to the village (wherever that was) up a valley from Interlaken, but that we had dinner and perhaps after-dinner activities together in one place. I vaguely remember a very attractive waitress in a sort of black waitressy dress.

What points of contact were there between the two [ourselves and the other party]…?

I only have vague memories of our stop-over in Interlaken, which was on the last leg of the holiday before we were delivered back to the airport in Basel. I can’t remember our group being split up between two hotels, but only that our hotel was up a steep road and that it offered a rather breathtaking view over the lake.

If ours was a two-stage tour, the other party’s could have been too. We could have encountered them (again?), say, in Grindelwald. Or their presence could account for my impression of a split between two hotels in the place up the (steep) valley from Interlaken. I wrote previously that we had “…perhaps after-dinner activities”. Indeed, there was some sort of a social evening, because I remember speaking a few words to the “very attractive waitress in a sort of black waitressy dress” (after I’d had a few!). But whether it was our party or both parties I don’t know. (I redden with shame as I write this, even after 40 years, for I asked her what colour her knickers were. I don’t think I made myself understood, though.)

How much did he [“Pole”] want for the loan of his shaver-cord that would fit Austrian power-sockets? Or was it Swiss? “Ten Frencs!” Fixed vacuous smile with hand extended palm-up.

I remember the village outside of Interlaken where we stayed “up a steep road on a valley side”, and I could hardly forget the negotiations with “Pole” over the shaver adapter. It would seem logical that we only stayed one night, as we were on our way back to the airport in Basel. Having said that, we seem to have done quite a lot there. We certainly spent an afternoon in Interlaken, or part thereof, because I remember our buying some postcards from a souvenir shop. The cards were placed in a paper bag bearing the name of the shop: “Albert Schild — Interlaken”. I googled this and found that there is now an Albert Schild AG. Whether it was a big concern then, I don't know, but we assumed the grey-haired man who served us to be Albert Schild!

Whether we were in Grindelwald before this “afternoon in Interlaken”, or after, I don’t know. My own mental picture of buying postcards, and not finding one with a plain photo of the Eiger, is set in Grindelwald. The lack of any postcard of the Eiger in the blue album, above, is ample evidence that my search in Interlaken for an unmarked image was also in vain. The postcards of Interlaken and the Jungfrau may have been bought there, though.

Here is Swiss Souvenir’s account:

Four Generations
In 1898 Albert Schild opened his special shop of wood carvings at
Bahnhofstrasse 19 in Interlaken, Bernese Oberland. He sold his own
exclusive wood carvings and also those made in nearby Brienz.
At the end of 1920 his son Ernst joined the firm – he extended the
selection of articles also including personally designed wooden toys.
These articles were subsequently sold all over Switzerland. Today,
the popular hand-painted wooden red cow with its leather ears is still
a favourite.
In 1973, his nephew Walter Andreas Fuchs took over the firm.
Besides the wood carvings and wooden toys Swiss made souvenirs
were included.

Albert Schild	Ernst Schild	Walter Andreas Fuchs

Since 1995 his son Kaspar Fuchs is in charge of this traditional house
– the fourth generation. Since 2006 Albert Schild AG runs the museum
shop in the Swiss National Museum in Zurich.

Thanks for the additional info on Albert Schild and, yes, I think it could have been Walter Andreas Fuchs who served us. Maybe it’s just my imagination running wild, but there is something vaguely familiar about him.

I remember the black girl and others waving frantically to us from the back of their coach as it finally departed — where was that? Luton? London?…

When people filed past Philip and finally farewelled him they tipped him. (Where was this?) I felt embarrassed because I didn’t have enough money left to do so; I'd made unanticipated inroads into it during the initial 24 hours in Luton. Perhaps my memory of a couple or so girls (including, I thought, a black one) waving frantically through the rear window of a coach as it passed and receded from us belongs soon afterwards. It may have been a taxi. Indeed, it may have been an unexpected re-encounter in London after we thought we’d all gone our separate ways.

Chris commented in an email to me (3 October 2011 11:31): The "Holiday in Austria" blog is really good, and it includes a lot of interesting material. I suppose it's not bad that, after 40 years, we could still piece together a considerable amount of detail!

# posted by  John Edward Cooper : 6 October 2011 at 10:25