Our life during the first months in Port Harcourt, bordered on an "Alice through the Looking Glass" existence. The Company had rented us a flat and following government guidelines also gave us 6 people as domestic staff. This was a way to alleviate the current social problems of unemployement and lack of housing as each flat or house had staff quarters. However as there was nothing to be found in house furnishings at the time, we had to make do with makeshift beds and orange crates for tables and seats. There I was, a "Lady of the Manor" *g*, waited on by six eager staff, living in the middle of an orange-crate-furnished flat......

Things started to improve as the country was recovering from its wounds. We moved to a bigger house with a beautiful garden, we found some furniture, my son joined the P.H. primary school and I learned how to play Bridge which was necessary if I wanted to have any kind of social life....*G*.
I could not have done it without the help of a sweet 17 year old Ibo girl of exceptional beauty and intelligence, who was my invaluable helper both in and out of the house. Her name : Julia. She was the one who showed me where to find from hair-pins to cupboards, looked after my son, took me around to the best sources for fresh fish and vegetables, and taught me how to tie the magnificent head-dress that the Ibo girls wear with such elegance. She also tried to teach me the Ibo dialect, without much success, I am afraid. After so many years,I once again, thank you, Dear Julia.

We said Farewell to Port Harcourt and Nigeria in September 1974. Our next home was Scotland. But that is another story...