THE WATERSHED YEAR - She must be 77 years old now!

We arrived in Split, Yugoslavia, on Friday, 3rd September, 1954 following a good crossing of the Atlantic, bunkering in Gibraltar, and a fair weather passage through the Mediterranean and Adriatic Seas. Gibraltar was kind of disappointing - we bunkered far from the main port and the rock was big but covered in huge concrete "rain catchers" that made it drab.

The Adriatic and Dalmatian coasts were spectacular, lots of attractive islands, a back drop of mountains, and great weather. It was not easy to navigate as many mined areas still existed.

Split is a magnificent city with a history stretching back about two thousand years. The area had suffered from the war and there was still evidence of this. Tourism was to follow in later years but then, as in other parts of Europe, it was rebuilding its industry and infrastructure.

When we visited anywhere in the 1950s it was to represent Britain and the Captain would not let any of the apprentices ashore without they were dressed in a white shirt, tie, grey flannels, and black Oxford shoes that were well polished.

Yugoslavia had been attacked by the Germans & Hungarians, they had developed tough resistance fighters to finally drive them out. The country became Communist then broke with the USSR but stayed Communist under Josep Tito and forged an independent attitude. I could go on for ages trying to explain Balkan politics and still only scratch the surface.

Going ashore there proved to be fun for most of the younger crew members. Some ended up in the Lido and swimming etc. and others made friends through sport etc. Split is sport mad. In 1954 Hungary had probably the best football team ever, they beat Brazil, West Germany, and hammered England twice. Although the Croatians were not fond of Hungary everybody admired their football team.

I linked up with a group of lads and lasses at a cafe talking and laughing and walked home with one girl called Marica Kufner. She lived at Kamenita, Broz 2, Split. [Her name is pronounced 'Maritza'.] I went to Mass with her on the Sunday [as Catholics used Latin in those days I could go to Mass in any country.] Marica introduced me to the young priest and like most people there he wanted to talk about what it was like in England and sport. We had fun with the others in taking the mickey out of the secret police in plain clothes who all seemed to be poseurs! I walked and talked with her on the Adriatic shoreline and said that I would write to her.[ I did send a couple of cards but did not get a reply.] It was altogether a very pleasant stay in this port. When we sailed a couple of the lads came down to say goodbye.

We had had a break but the next cargo was to be wheat from the USSR in the Black Sea to Brazil. We faced one really hard spell of work to prepare for this charter.

By the way have you figured it out? If Marica is 77 years old now so then she must have been 20 when we met in Split. I did not lie there - I was nearly 17 but everyone assumed that I was 19 when I just said that I was younger.