In 1967 I was a telephonist for a large shipping agency, and having proved my worth was given a rise, bringing my salary to a huge £13 per week.

This seemed a fortune in those days, when a loaf cost lOd, butter was l/6d, you could buy a small cabbage for 3d and a quarter of corned beef would give you change from a shilling.

Having such a generous wage, it seemed the ideal time to venture abroad. I discovered a very affordable and what seemed very attractive holiday – an eight-day coach tour of Switzerland for the grand total of £25 4s.

At 11.30pm on July 22 my friend and I, together with my mother and her friend, found ourselves waiting in anticipation for the coach that would take us on this exciting holiday, travelling through Belgium, France and Luxembourg.

To our dismay the coach appeared slowly in the distance being pushed by several men, and my mother, who hadn’t been as enthusiastic as her fellow travellers, felt all her premonitions come to the fore, and we were full of doubts about whether we’d be going far at all!

Bravely we put our fears behind us, and when at last we were able to set off we hadn’t been travelling long before we had to change coaches. This we did, and settied ourselves as we approached the M1 in the
most appalling weather – heavy rain and lightning so bad it lit up the coach. We found it impossible to sleep, and it was a long night.
A stop for coffee on the motorway proved fruitless because it was like mud and undrinkable. We arrived at Folkestone at 6. 45am. Thankfully the rain had stopped and the sun was trying to break through. It was 9. 45am before we boarded the boat that would take us to Ostend.

After a 3 &1/2-hour crossing spent in the expensive cafeteria our spirits were lifted upon arrival at Ostend. The sun shone on a beautiful inviting beach, and it seems peculiar now to have been impressed with all the different plants that were so prominent in shops and restaurants.

All too soon we had to board our new coach and were introduced to our new driver who looked incredibly like Danny Kaye and had a great sense of humour. Fortunately this coach was much more comfortable – just as well considering we had 400 miles ahead of us to our overnight stop at Reims.

After a fascinating and new experience for us, going through the Belgian border into France and being thoroughly checked over by the police, we travelled through miles of cultivated fields, passing drab, unattractive villages that brought to mind the 1940s and 50s black and white war films. The small, dismal-looking houses had all their shutters closed, blocking out the sunshine, and the men and women were dressed solemnly in black.

When we’d set off on this holiday we knew we’d be faced with new experiences, but a stop on the way for toilets proved too much for us. Were we really expected to join the men and use a hole in the ground? Appar-endy so – but most of us preferred to wait.

We arrived at our hotel in Reims at 10.15pm, and after a meal and a good night’s sleep we faced the next day more refreshed.

After a very tasty continental breakfast we continued our journey into Switzerland. This time it proved more enjoyable, and we were over-awed by the beautiful window boxes everywhere with an abundance of geraniums – so much colour, with the lovely coloured tables and sunshades which have become a normal attraction in Britain today, but were not so in the 1960s.

It was 9pm when we eventually arrived at our hotel in Swatgerburg, 2,600 feet up a mountain, in a room with a balcony and lovely views.

We collapsed with laughter when we discovered the enormous white feathered eiderdowns rolled up high on the beds, which enveloped us as we threw ourselves on to them – another new experience, because duvets were still not yet common in Britain.

Our tea, served as tea bags, was extremely expensive compared with coffee.

Only one nasty experience marred our five days in Switzerland. One evening we joined our fellow travellers on the coach that was to take us for an evening boat ride around Lake Lucerne with folk dancing as an added attraction. Unfortunately my mother was taken ill before we reached the boat, and our courier left us with a German taxi driver instructing him, as he thought, to take us back to our hotel.

What followed was a nightmare journey! The driver insisted he couldn’t speak English and had no idea where our hotel was, even though I gave him details and its position.

He took us along many miles of roads on a frightening journey that should have taken ten minutes. As we sat terrified at the back of his taxi we had an overbearing urge to open the doors and get out.

We were reminded of the premonitions we’d had at the start of the holiday – this did not help my mother who was already feeling very ill. When we eventually arrived at our hotel the driver explained in very good English that the cost was £2 10s. We discovered the next day that it should have cost five shillings.

Upon reflection, it seems bizarre that this eight-day tour cost a mere £25 and included all travel, accommodation and meals plus a picnic lunch every day. Also included at no extra cost were excursions, the boat ride and a fantastic theatre trip.

Unbelievably, I took home change from my £20 spending money, even though I bought eight presents costing around £3 in total. At that time you could bring home only £5 worth of goods. I also paid £5 for a Kodak camera to replace the one I’d taken with me but which unfortunately had broken. I put the new one in my camera case, but didn’t think to declare it.

Fortunately I still have all the information regarding the holiday and a day-to-day diary I kept at the time, otherwise I’d question my memories of that incredible holiday,

Irene Purslow