I have given you background information on who I happened to be crossing the Atlantic during wartime. I shall continue. The Ariguani, one of Ffyffe's banana boats had been seconded to take passengers across stormy seas. I was in Halifax awaiting orders to proceed. Posters everywhere. LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS.
On a bright sunny morning I, and several other woman were told to proceed to the dock area. As we were escorted through a shed I was dismayed to see a small ship tied up at the pier. It looked about the size of the ferries that chugged across Toronto harbour during my childhood. Surely this small vessel wasn't fit to brave the stormy ocean.
A white coated steward greeted us at the bottom of the gangplank. I asked if the ship was safe. "Yes, Madam. It's a fine ship so you have no fear sailing on the Ariguani.
Okay, but I had my doubts. On board, another steward assigned us our cabins. Before setting us free to find our cabins, the head steward gathered us in the saloon and gave us our instructions for the voyage.
Carry your life jacket with you at all times and keep it beside your bed at night. Mothers with children had to make sure their little ones wore their life jackets at all times during the day and close by at night. Wear warm clothes and keep your warm clothing next to your bed at night. Keep your cabin door hooked open at night. Do not go on deck after dark.
We had been instructed before we left Canada not to carry much cash. We had to have a current passport. (I still have mine, dated 1944.) After settling into my cabin I walked up on deck in time to see our ship ease away from the pier. Within hours we became part of a small convoy of thirty ships heading out to sea. We were a motley crew of ships, some large some small. As we proceeded from Halifax harbour we were joined by Royal Canadian navy ships who were to shepherd us out to sea.
Within days our convoy sailed into thick fog. Imagine the noise. Fog horns going day and night. We could not see another ship. This was before radar peaked.It seemed we would be fog bound forever until we cleared the fog into bright sunshine and were now part of a huge convoy. It truly was an amazing sight. From horizon to horizon were long lines of ships. Signals flashed. Navy ships of various sizes sailed up and around the convoy. Protecting us. A comforting sight.
Some days our Ariguani would head up the third line, next day we'd be second on the first line and so it went as we zigzagged our slow way across the Atlantic.
TO BE CONTINUED
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Anita Birt's Note book
I am taking a short break from my blog. When I return, watch for my story about crossing the Atlantic during war time and what happened off the coast of northern Ireland!
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
Monday, October 3, 2011
Anita Birt's Note book
In spite of the snowy beginning, our marriage lasted 65 years until my husband passed away.
Travelling to England in wartime was an adventure I did not want to miss. I sailed on one of Ffyse's banana boats diverted from bananas to civilian use. There's a story to tell before I set foot on board the Ariguani in August, 1944. It was docked at Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. "Loose lips sink ships."
During the Second World War, the Commonwealth Air Training Scheme was created to train pilots, navigators, air gunners and ground crew in Canada. Men came from every corner of the Commonwealth. New Zealand, Australia, India, South Africa, England, Ireland and Scotland. In Canada's wide open spaces training facilities were built from Ontario west to Vancouver Island.
My husband trained as a navigator and was retained in Canada as an instructor. In May 1944 he and several other young officers were sent back to England to go on active service, my husband among them. Bill was in the Royal Air Force.
Because the war in the Atlantic was winding down RAF dependents had the opportunity to sail to England. We paid our way! I still have my 1944 Canadian passport. I sailed to England on the banana boat with other women, some with small children. I was twenty-one and didn't fear dying in the North Atlantic if worst came to worst. I was adventurous and looked forward to meeting with my husband in England. I didn't have a clue where he was. He was "somewhere in England." When I landed in England I planned to travel to Wales to stay with my mother-in-law and my two sisters-in-law.
"The best laid plans of mice and men..." Murphy's Law fell into place. What ever could go wrong, did go wrong.If you want to read the rest of my story, please leave comments - many comments to encourage me.
And think of buying my five romance novels. Go to www.anitabirt.com to view covers and synopses.
Anita
Travelling to England in wartime was an adventure I did not want to miss. I sailed on one of Ffyse's banana boats diverted from bananas to civilian use. There's a story to tell before I set foot on board the Ariguani in August, 1944. It was docked at Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. "Loose lips sink ships."
During the Second World War, the Commonwealth Air Training Scheme was created to train pilots, navigators, air gunners and ground crew in Canada. Men came from every corner of the Commonwealth. New Zealand, Australia, India, South Africa, England, Ireland and Scotland. In Canada's wide open spaces training facilities were built from Ontario west to Vancouver Island.
My husband trained as a navigator and was retained in Canada as an instructor. In May 1944 he and several other young officers were sent back to England to go on active service, my husband among them. Bill was in the Royal Air Force.
Because the war in the Atlantic was winding down RAF dependents had the opportunity to sail to England. We paid our way! I still have my 1944 Canadian passport. I sailed to England on the banana boat with other women, some with small children. I was twenty-one and didn't fear dying in the North Atlantic if worst came to worst. I was adventurous and looked forward to meeting with my husband in England. I didn't have a clue where he was. He was "somewhere in England." When I landed in England I planned to travel to Wales to stay with my mother-in-law and my two sisters-in-law.
"The best laid plans of mice and men..." Murphy's Law fell into place. What ever could go wrong, did go wrong.If you want to read the rest of my story, please leave comments - many comments to encourage me.
And think of buying my five romance novels. Go to www.anitabirt.com to view covers and synopses.
Anita
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Anita Birt's Note book
Second time around to write about my wedding day. March 6, 1943, Toronto, Canada.
Think Snow. Lots of snow. It began falling in the night. When I wakened in the morning it was almost knee deep. I had spent the night at the home of my sister and her husband, with me was my maid of honour, Joyce Baxter. The question floating at the front of my mind; would we get to the church on time, if at all.
My sister was hugely pregnant with her first child and decided to miss the actual wedding. With the assistance of my sister and Joyce I was dressed in my wedding gown, small veil and white satin sandals, great for walking in the snow. I wore a lovely long cape borrowed from a friend of my mother to keep me warm. The taxi arrived on time. My brother-in-law dug a path to the car but the snow swirled around my ankles and toes. Joyce assisted me into the cab and off we went to the church, St, Paul's Presbyterian Church ob Bathurst Street.
I was relieved to find my parents, my Uncle John and his thirteen year old daughter, Gladys, my junior bridesmaid. Bill and his best man were already in the church. As the wedding march rang out I walked down the aisle on may father's arm. It was beautiful. So far, so good. Taxis waited outside to take us to the reception at the Park Plaza Hotel.
It passed like a blur. Bill and I taxied to my sister's home where I changed into my "going away clothes." My suitcases were packed. Bill had a small case. I had two very large suitcases! I was twenty years old and not a seasoned traveller. We were going to spend a week at a Niagara Falls hotel and I had packed very thing I owned!
Bill had ordered seats on the club car, when we arrived at the railway station, there was no club car, instead we were seated in an ancient wooden, Canada coach, a relic of bygone days. No food available. Hard wood seats. The snow had snarled the railway.
We planned to spend the night at the Royal Connaught Hotel in Hamilton. A brilliant plan but traffic was snarled and there were no taxis at the station. We trudged through the snow to the local street car stop, Bill staggering under the weight of one of my huge suitcases. I staggered with the other one. Years later he told me, he almost cancelled the marriage then and there but noble soul that he was he forgave me. We never did forget those monstrous suitcases. One of them travelled to England with me when I crossed the Atlantic during the war, but that's another story.
We arrived at the hotel, tired, feet and ankles damp and we were starving. At our reception in Toronto we had been so busy greeting and chatting we had scarcely had a bite to eat. The coffee shop at the hotel was closing but we persuaded the man on duty to make us ham sandwiches and pour a couple of cups of coffee. We survived but it was a close call.
Think Snow. Lots of snow. It began falling in the night. When I wakened in the morning it was almost knee deep. I had spent the night at the home of my sister and her husband, with me was my maid of honour, Joyce Baxter. The question floating at the front of my mind; would we get to the church on time, if at all.
My sister was hugely pregnant with her first child and decided to miss the actual wedding. With the assistance of my sister and Joyce I was dressed in my wedding gown, small veil and white satin sandals, great for walking in the snow. I wore a lovely long cape borrowed from a friend of my mother to keep me warm. The taxi arrived on time. My brother-in-law dug a path to the car but the snow swirled around my ankles and toes. Joyce assisted me into the cab and off we went to the church, St, Paul's Presbyterian Church ob Bathurst Street.
I was relieved to find my parents, my Uncle John and his thirteen year old daughter, Gladys, my junior bridesmaid. Bill and his best man were already in the church. As the wedding march rang out I walked down the aisle on may father's arm. It was beautiful. So far, so good. Taxis waited outside to take us to the reception at the Park Plaza Hotel.
It passed like a blur. Bill and I taxied to my sister's home where I changed into my "going away clothes." My suitcases were packed. Bill had a small case. I had two very large suitcases! I was twenty years old and not a seasoned traveller. We were going to spend a week at a Niagara Falls hotel and I had packed very thing I owned!
Bill had ordered seats on the club car, when we arrived at the railway station, there was no club car, instead we were seated in an ancient wooden, Canada coach, a relic of bygone days. No food available. Hard wood seats. The snow had snarled the railway.
We planned to spend the night at the Royal Connaught Hotel in Hamilton. A brilliant plan but traffic was snarled and there were no taxis at the station. We trudged through the snow to the local street car stop, Bill staggering under the weight of one of my huge suitcases. I staggered with the other one. Years later he told me, he almost cancelled the marriage then and there but noble soul that he was he forgave me. We never did forget those monstrous suitcases. One of them travelled to England with me when I crossed the Atlantic during the war, but that's another story.
We arrived at the hotel, tired, feet and ankles damp and we were starving. At our reception in Toronto we had been so busy greeting and chatting we had scarcely had a bite to eat. The coffee shop at the hotel was closing but we persuaded the man on duty to make us ham sandwiches and pour a couple of cups of coffee. We survived but it was a close call.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Anita Birt's Note book
Well I'll be damned. I wrote about my wedding day on March, 6, 1943, Toronto. And it snowed and snowed and we did get to the church on time but it was a close call. I can't find what I wrote. Help! It is late and I am too tired to search my computer for the missing blog. I know it was published so where can it be?
I shall return.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
I shall return.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Anita Birt's Note book
I have returned after taking time to think about this blog. Right off the top I am advertising two of my romance novels that need a push to find readers.
Isabelle's Diary is a contemporary romance set in Llandrindod Wells in mid Wales when my heroine sees a ghost in broad daylight - or did she? There are twists and turns in my story until the very end. There is a hero, of course. What would a romance novel be without a hero and a love affair? My book is available in e-format at Amazon.com and Elora's Cave.
Isabelle's Story is set in 1899/1900. Isabelle is the girl who wrote the diary and may have been the ghost seen by my heroine in the present time. Are ghostly sightings possible? Why do they happen?
Isabelle's world falls apart when she believes her lover has abandoned her and she is thrown out of her family home without money or a place to stay. She is ready to die alone up in the Welsh hills when an old shepherd rescues her and takes her to his cottage.
My book is available at Amazon.com or Elora's Cave in e-format. Both were well reviewed.
Next blog! Something completely new. I'm going to write about my wedding day. March 6, 1943 in Toronto, Canada.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
Isabelle's Diary is a contemporary romance set in Llandrindod Wells in mid Wales when my heroine sees a ghost in broad daylight - or did she? There are twists and turns in my story until the very end. There is a hero, of course. What would a romance novel be without a hero and a love affair? My book is available in e-format at Amazon.com and Elora's Cave.
Isabelle's Story is set in 1899/1900. Isabelle is the girl who wrote the diary and may have been the ghost seen by my heroine in the present time. Are ghostly sightings possible? Why do they happen?
Isabelle's world falls apart when she believes her lover has abandoned her and she is thrown out of her family home without money or a place to stay. She is ready to die alone up in the Welsh hills when an old shepherd rescues her and takes her to his cottage.
My book is available at Amazon.com or Elora's Cave in e-format. Both were well reviewed.
Next blog! Something completely new. I'm going to write about my wedding day. March 6, 1943 in Toronto, Canada.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Anita Birt's Note book
Anita is giving up on this blog - unless someone comments on something she has written.
I am unable to think of a subject of interest to blog readers. I mean who is interested in the on-line meanderings of an eighty eight year old woman, long past her prime and slowly sliding down into old age.
What is old age these days? What do I know? I'm old and that's about it. My creative muse has taken a long holiday. I think she has gone on a ROUND THE WORLD CRUISE and is experimenting with her libido on some young hunk on a warm island in the south Pacific.
That sounds like a song coming up. Tales of the South Pacific with songs to warm the hardest hearts. "One Enchanted Evening." Has to be one of the loveliest love songs ever written. Well, that's my opinion and I'm sticking to it.
I have a new television and the Blue Jays are playing out here on the west coast. I'd rather watch them than bore you with my bletherings. My Scottish grandmother always said, blethering, not blathering as some English would have it.
Remember! I have written five romance novels and I really want to sell them. So they were published a few years ago, that doesn't make them unreadable. Try one of them. Try Isabelle's Diary, a fabulous contemporary story with a fascinating twist at the end. Trust me
Visit www.anitabirt.com
Anita
I am unable to think of a subject of interest to blog readers. I mean who is interested in the on-line meanderings of an eighty eight year old woman, long past her prime and slowly sliding down into old age.
What is old age these days? What do I know? I'm old and that's about it. My creative muse has taken a long holiday. I think she has gone on a ROUND THE WORLD CRUISE and is experimenting with her libido on some young hunk on a warm island in the south Pacific.
That sounds like a song coming up. Tales of the South Pacific with songs to warm the hardest hearts. "One Enchanted Evening." Has to be one of the loveliest love songs ever written. Well, that's my opinion and I'm sticking to it.
I have a new television and the Blue Jays are playing out here on the west coast. I'd rather watch them than bore you with my bletherings. My Scottish grandmother always said, blethering, not blathering as some English would have it.
Remember! I have written five romance novels and I really want to sell them. So they were published a few years ago, that doesn't make them unreadable. Try one of them. Try Isabelle's Diary, a fabulous contemporary story with a fascinating twist at the end. Trust me
Visit www.anitabirt.com
Anita
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