MULTIPLY Creative Challenge #12 - Sentimental

At my age it does not need a lot to get me sentimental. I have so many things to look back on. Just now I was looking at 3 films shown on Multiply about the building of the London Transport system, the Underground trains. Now that really got me sentimental, reflecting on the days 40 years ago when I lived in London and that was my main means of transport. The noise of the trains in the film going through the tunnels and the people waiting on the stations, seeing the map of the London underground - all items that brought back fond memories.

Looking at this photo I took around 2006 has a strong sentimental meaning for me. On this small park there used to be a street built in 1884 and demolished approximately in 1972. It did not live long, but in one of the houses on the street I spent the first 20 years of my life before I left England to go to Switzerland to live. All together there were about 100 houses all built the same.

This is a photo showing our old house. 3 rooms downstairs, where my grandfather lived, and 3 rooms upstairs belonging to my parents and myself. With time my grandfather used only two rooms and I got an extra room as my bedroom. Each house had its own little garden which also brings back sentimental memories of my mum planting flowers in this small patch and tending to them. The toilet was also in a corner of the garden (no inside toilets in those days) and we also had a large coal shed as heating was done by coal fire. Deliveries came from the merchants about once or twice a month. We had no bathroom and in my room the gas holders were still on the walls from the older days where electricity was not yet invented. Not that I long for the good old days living in my modern home today with all mod cons, but the sentimental memories remain. They were also the days where you could leave your front door open and have no fear that anything would be stolen, or that you would be attacked.

I was then a kid getting on for teenager, but family was written with big letters then. My mum's sisters and their families were living near. Gradually the houses were pulled down for more modern accommodation, but at Christmas we always had a family party. In Switzerland where I now live, Christmas is more a time of quiet traditions. Presents are given and the real meaning of Christmas is everywhere. This too in the days gone by, but our Christmas in London was more a family reunion and party. We all met at my aunts house around four in the afternoon, the house being decorated with all sorts of Chrismassy ornaments. In the evening we all had a meal - nothing special - some cold meat and salad and as a desert I remember my aunt making jelly with fruit and custard - an english tradition - all in sort of waxy dishes. We kids loved it, it was the same every year. After the meal the celebrations begun. The drink started flowing, not too much, but for the men and women that had worked hard all the year, at Christmas it was their party. My cousins and I would get together in our own room with lemonade and other soft drinks and lots of nuts to eat and we even had our own gramophone for listening to music. We had fun. We are now all adults with our own families, made our way in the world, each of us with good jobs, but when we get together today we still talk about the good old days and we are now from 57-62 years old. I think we all get sentimental talking over those Christmas parties.

What else makes me feel sentimental. Well, of course, there is certain music that reminds me of days gone by. I grew up in the Elvis Presley days. The beginnings of rock and roll. If someone somewhere starts playing Rock Around the Clock by Bill Haley, then this old lady can sing along.

The days of the good old black and white television. Colour was just a far away dream, but we didn't care if Hoppalong Cassidy or the Lone Ranger galloped across the tv screens in black and white, it was exciting and it was another world. I would love to see a couple of those films again. We even went to the Cinema (Movies) to watch films in those days. You didn't have the privilege of watching the newest films on the tv. You went out down to the picture palace (as one of my aunts called it) with your mum and dad and actually watched a film. I think I saw all the Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis films. It also seemed to me that John Wayne and Audie Murphy were showing every week at the cinema. I even remember seeing Ronald Reagan in films. Now who would have thought that one day he would become president. When I see those old films sometimes on the tv these days I wonder how I found them so good then, but I still love to watch them - just for sentimental reasons probably.

My school days in London are something I will never experience again. At the time I might not have actually wanted to go to school. My mum always told me they are the best days of your life. Then I did not believe her, but today, oh yes. I can look at the old class photos and wish I was back again standing in the middle with the class around me. We were bound together by one thing and that was school. Fifty years later I sometimes meet up with my one time school friends when I pay a visit to London and what do we talk about. Our other school friends, what they are now doing, how they are keeping and they were great days. Just one sentimental bunch of elderly ladies sharing sentimental thoughts.

If you are looking for me then I am in the second row from the front, fifth from the left. As you can see in those days only some of us wore stockings, the rest wore white socks. I must have been about 14 years old then. We had school uniform, green skirt with a beige blouse in winter and naturally with a school tie in red and green diagonal stripes. In summer a cotton dress in green and white or red and white gingham pattern. I hated school uniform then but today look back with sentiments on the whole thing.

So if you ask an older lady about being sentimental, then she usually is, perhaps mixed up with nostalgia as well. I wonder what my kids will get sentimental about when they are older?

This subject is not new to me, after blogging for a year or two I have written a couple of items on similar aspects of my younger days and all to do with being sentimental I suppose, so here are a couple of links

Sentimental Memories

Down the Lane on Sunday morning with my dad

Link to Creative Challenge #12 - Sentimental

Summertime in Switzerland

This photo shows our one-time moat in the town of Solothurn which used to be filled with water in olden days, but is now grass. It is a very old construction and I think had something to do with defence many years ago.

Life is very quiet at the moment. My youngest son is in Brussels and will be coming home some time mid August. My oldest is spending two weeks in Italy on the coast and I am alone with Mr. Swiss. Almost a second honeymoon you may think. Not quite, we did not have a first one and now 40 years later who needs one.

Life is being spent looking after the garden. Mr. Swiss even planted some grass seeds as our lawn was looking a bit bare. After four days we now have a green shimmer where there was before just weeds and earth. My blackberries are now black and I have so many I just don’t know where to go with them. I don’t make jam so every evening it blackberries and cream. I at last bought my long wished for Adobe CS3 photoshop computer programme as Mr. Swiss had an offer from Adobe at half price so I jumped to it, money no object. The bill will come, but perhaps I might inherit by then. I had some book tokens so bought some literature to go with it and am now slowly but surely coming to grips with this programme.

I had an appointment at the dentists for a teeth cleaning job. My dentist found two holes to be drilled and repaired. I am still not sure whether he did not make them himself or whether they were already there. I never noticed them. Tomorrow is the last appointment. It would have been yesterday but I forgot. Yesterday I paid a visit to the hairdresser which was very positive. By coincidence it turned out that my new hairdresser is one of my neighbours. She understood what I wanted and we are all happy. She even knew my husband and my cats – strange world (how comes she knew my husband and the cats???).

Switzerland have a small problem at the moment. At least it was small when it started, but has grown a bit and now is getting somewhat out of proportion. As I prefer using my own photos, this photo is from Morocco as it is the only arab country I have ever visited. The next photo is Whitechapel market in London, which also counts as being in Arab hands.

Now we all know that Switzerland attracts money and unfortunately a few despots from other countries that like to enjoy the advantages of the Swiss tax system and something known as numbered bank accounts. Whether this is the reason that Mad Muammar Gaddafi’s son Hannibal and his wife live(d) in Geneva I don’t know, but probably. This couple were staying in a hotel in Geneva and Hannibal’s wife is in the ninth month of her pregnancy. She wanted to have her baby in Switzerland (as if we did not have enough refugees here already). The couple are well known for badly treating their servants but it seems that they bodily attacked two of their private servants, a Moroccan and a Tunisian whilst they were staying at the hotel. This became public and the police were engaged and put Hannibal and his wife under arrest. Now Hannibal’s daddy found this not so good and the bail of 390,000 € was paid. The two culprits took the first plane back home after being released on bail. Hannibal was two days in one of our Swiss prisons and his wife in a hospital.

Mad Muammar Gaddafi was not happy, so what has he done. Switzerland is the biggest customer for oil from Libya, but it seems this is not a danger. Mad Gaddafi has decided to turn the tap off where it says oil for Switzerland, so I might have to learn how to ride a bicycle after all. The Swiss government has reassured us that there will be no queues at the tank stops and it probably means only the closing of 320 gas stations – no problem when I think of what our Volvo drinks on a normal journey.

However, it seems the company Nestle in Libya is now closed and its workers all expelled. ABB, a Swiss company, also have workers in Libya, but a couple have now been detained in prison in connection with their permission to stay in such a wonderful friendly country – well I suppose if Switzerland dares to put Gaddafi’s son in prison, they can do the same. Of course the company ABB in Libya has been closed. Actually all Swiss companies have been closed. From a nutcase like Gaddafi you cannot really expect more.

Our foreign minister Mrs. Calmey Rey has naturally protested, although as a woman I don’t think she makes a great impression on the Libyans. She has told her counterpart in Libya she is worried about the developments of the situation and would be searching for a diplomatic solution. I am wondering if Mad Gaddafi knows what that is. All flights from Switzerland to Tripoli have been reduced as Mad Gaddafi decided and there are reduced flights coming from Tripoli to Switzerland. All Swiss diplomats in Libya have been called back to Switzerland. Swiss tourists wanting to spend their holidays in Libya have been warned not to.

So life will just not be the same in the future for me. Riding a bicycle, not being able to spend my Summer holidays in a Libyan holiday camp and my colleagues who work there will all have to come home if they are still on free footing. I think I will have to write a letter to the Swiss government reminding them that France are quite pally with mad Gaddafi and have an atom contract with them. Perhaps the French could put in a few good words for Switzerland. We could, of course, drop charges against Hannibal and his wife, but we are Swiss and for once I am proud of it. On first August we have our national day, perhaps we might make a few pardons to honour the day.



So that is the news from Switzerland at the moment. I did notice that one of our best footballers, Behrami, who actually plays in Italy has now been sold to West Ham United. Behrami is a good footballer, a brilliant dribbler and I just hope he is the solution to West ham problems.

My 3 cats send their best wishes to everyone but said they are resting at the moment, being Summer holiday time. I just noticed that this week every morning I have a dead mouse in front of the window.

MULTIPLY Pictures to words: Faces 4 (rejoice)

“Dear Miss Mullens

It is with deep regret that we must inform you of the passing of Miss Josephine Mullens. Upon this occasion we would request your presence at the reading of the testament 10.00 a.m. on Thursday 6th March in our offices. We would ask to please bring method of identification proving that you are the niece of the deceased.

Awaiting your presence we remain
Yours faithfully,
James Fitzsimmons (signed)

Lawyer”

Jennifer Mullens read the letter at least three times before she remembered who Aunt Josephine was. She had the dim memory of a tall thin lady with an expression showing “little girls should be seen but not heard” and her mum always making her wash her face until it was shiny before they visited her aunt. “And now I have inherited her possessions. No I don’t believe it, that can’t be true.” Aunt Josephine was a spinster which she seemed to have remained all her life.

“What do you wear for a testament reading?” thought Jenny. She had no-one she could ask. Her parents had died a few years ago and she had no friends that she could confide in. She decided on her black two piece suit. Just plain tailored and her flat black lace up shoes. They were comfortable and should be suitable for a lawyer’s office. Thursday morning came. She got herself ready, a quick glance in the mirror before she left to see that everything was in place, her hair tied back as always neat and tidy.

Good morning Miss Mullens, James Fitzsimmons at your disposal. Please take a seat.”
Jenny was surprised. A tall good looking man, slightly grey at the temples, but smartly dressed was addressing her. There was only one seat vacant.
“When will the others be arriving?” she asked.
“Miss Mullens, your aunt was, well, to put it frankly, she kept herself to herself and had no contacts. She died two months ago and there was only my good self at the funeral and my nephew. It seems that she had no further acquaintances. She knew she was dying - cancer end stage - and gave me a sealed envelop to be opened a month after her death. In this letter she specifies Jennifer Mullins as the sole heir to her fortune.
“Fortune, what fortune? As far as I know she had a large house out in the country somewhere and never got married or had any children.”
“This is partially true Miss Mullens, but she grew up in the house where she was living and inherited it from her own parents. The house and the estate are now worth a considerable amount of money, There is one small clause in your Aunt Josephine’s will however.”
“And that would be.”
“Yes, well, she stipulates that you must live in the house one year before any sale of the said is to be made.”
“Do I have to give my answer today” asked Jenny. The poor girl did not know what answer she should give, but James Fitzsimmons soon helped her on the way to an answer.
“We must also advise that Miss Josephine Mullens’ bank account at the moment amounts to a value of one and a half million pounds sterling which you will be presented with at the end of the year together with the property in question. During this year I am permitted to give you an allowance of five thousand pounds per month.”
What did Jenny say, what we all would say, YES of course.

She returned to her three roomed flat in South London feeling rather strange. She was to live in a house that she did not know and what is more, in a remote village somewhere in Norfolk, a small village on the coast. Well at least she had the sea nearby.
“Oh dear Aunt Josephine, why me” she wondered and took the family photo album in her hands and examined it searching for a photo of Aunt Josephine. She did not have to look far and she found a photo of a lady about her own age (now 50 years old) who could almost have been Jenny’s twin. She was dressed in the same plain and simple clothes that Jenny wore and had the same expression on her face and even her hair was strictly tied back. That night Jenny could not sleep. Many thoughts went through her head, the main one being “will I one day become an Aunt Josephine. I have all the signs, not married, no children and even my sense of dress seems to be the same.”

That week she made arrangements to move to the country. She gave notice at the library where she worked as librarian. There was no problem with the staff. It seemed the head librarian was almost glad to see her go, muttering they were overstaffed and there would be no need to keep her longer than necessary. She had no friends to say goodbye to. The few school friends that she had, were married and had their own families and children and Jenny just lost contact, or they no longer looked for contact with such an elderly spinster as Jenny. She packed her clothes and memories in a small case and bought her ticket for the train journey to Norfolk. She remembered the area as being very flat and when she arrived at the local station she noticed her memory had served her well. Fields stretching into the distance, separated by a few trees here and there and a smell of damp in the air, “probably from the sea” she thought. She then waited at the bus stop just outside the station for her bus to take her to the village of Fennamore where her aunt’s house was. The bus only arrived once every two hours, so she had a wait for at least seventy minutes until it appeared. Eventually she arrived at Mullen manor, as the house was known. It was already nine in the evening and darkness was descending upon the house and the surroundings. She also noticed a faint mist arising from the ground.

She took the key out of her handbag and as she wanted to push the door open it was pulled from the other side. Jenny let out a surprised scream.
“Oh. sorry Miss, I didn’t want to shock you, but my Uncle James, you know Fitzsimmons from the lawyers office, told me to clear the place up a bit and make it sort of homely before you arrived. I am staying just down the road in the village inn, Roger Simmons” and he stretched his hand out to her.
“How do you do Mr. Simmons” she said.
“No, now come on if I leave the Fitz bit out then you can at least call me Roger. I believe you are Jenny.”
Jenny was a bit taken aback. In her book of rules you just did not call a man by his first name until you knew him better, but she was tired from the journey and being honest with herself, she was pleased that she did not arrive at an empty house .

She entered the house expecting a smell of dust and damp, but surprisingly there was the smell of homeliness in the air, coming from the fire that Roger had lit in the fireplace.
“I thought I would warm the place up a bit” he said “after all it has been empty for the last months.”
“Yes, thank you” Jenny answered and was actually grateful that this Roger Simmons person had done this. She was already expecting to see the ghost of Aunt Josephine waiting to welcome her and was relieved that Mr. Fitzsimmons had organised his nephew to take care.

“Well I will leave you to unpack and make yourself comfortable. The bedroom at the top of the stairs on the right has been prepared and I put some food in the pantry in the kitchen so that you won’t have to starve for the first couple of days.”
“Thankyou Mr. S... I mean Roger, very kind of you.”
“No problem Jenny. It seems we will probably be seeing each other from time to time until you have found your way around.” Without waiting for her answer he wished her a relaxing night’s sleep and told her he would call in again the next day and he was gone. Jenny was alone in the house.

On his way back to the village Roger had his own thoughts. Roger was the son for James that he never had. Uncle James was his favourite uncle and he knew that he lived alone since his wife died so many years ago. He was pleased that he could work for Uncle James now and again and James was loved by his family, but this Jenny person. She was one of these women that would probably become an old maid just like her aunt. What a shame he thought, I think we should do something about that.

Jenny decided to climb the stairs to the bedroom as she was feeling weary and worn out. It had been a long day and she just wanted to rest. The door opened to a large room with the bed in the corner next to the window. The room was warm and friendly and the bathroom was just through a connecting door. She decided she would just put on her nightdress, comb her hair and sleep, sleep, sleep. She was looking for a mirror and found in the corner an old dressing table with a mirror and with a chair to match.

“Now this is very comfortable” she thought, unpinned her hair and looked into the mirror with the intention of brushing it. She dropped the brush on the floor and couldn’t believe her eyes. Instead of her own reflection for a few minutes she saw that of a school child, and what more it resembled her own likeness at this age. Oh how pretty she was then, with such curly hair and such a light of self confidence in her eyes. Her hand shook as she picked up the brush, but when she again looked into the mirror she saw her own stern face looking back.
“I must have imagined it” she thought. She went to bed and was asleep in no time.
The next morning she awoke to the sound of cowbells and looked out of the window. Just over the wall to her garden there were pastures with cows grazing. At first she found the noise a disturbance, but then watched the cows and found it quite soothing.

Lunchtime came and she decided to see what this Roger Simmons person had put in her pantry. “Well he certainly knows how to feed someone” she thought to herself and made a meal of the meat and vegetable he had left there. As she was clearing things away there was a knock at the door.

“Hello Jenny, I thought I would look in to see how you are doing.”
“Hello Mrs. Jenny” said a little girl holding Roger’s hand “I’m Megs.”
“Let me introduce you, Megs is my little girl, she’s the smallest of the bunch and wanted to meet you.”
“You are married Roger” asked Jenny
“Oh yes, my wife and my other children, the two boys, are staying in the village. We thought as uncle James said we should help you out for the first few days, we would make a family holiday and stay in the inn in the village until everything is settled. Actually my wife was wondering whether you would like to join us this evening for dinner at the inn.”
“Oh yes”, said Megs “please do.”

That evening Jenny dressed in something smart as far as Jenny fashion was concerned, and arrived at the inn for the evening meal. She found Roger’s wife a very nice person and also the two boys, although not exactly well behaved all the time. Megs had decided to adopt Jenny as her best friend and wanted to sit next to Jenny at the table. At first Jenny felt a bit uncomfortable not knowing anyone, but by the time she went home she found she had long not had such a good and relaxing evening. Roger’s wife Jacky insisted that Jenny should accompany her the next day to the village. Jacky had to visit the hairdressers and thought it would be ideal for Jenny to have a look on her own around the village and do some shopping while she was there.

After dinner Roger dropped Jenny off at the manor in his car and she made her way up to the bedroom. She decided to comb her hair in front of the mirror and saw again the little girl that she was once, but in the background an elderly lady. This lady resembled her Aunt Josephine and for one moment she looked behind her to see if she was standing in the room, but no-one was there. When she returned to the mirror she found she was looking at her own reflection again, but somehow not so serious as the last time. She went to bed, but had troublesome dreams. She was frightened of meeting her end the same way as her Aunt Josephine, with no friends and family.

The next morning Jacky picked Jenny up with her car and they drove into the village together. Whilst Jacky was at the hairdressers, Jenny did some shopping and looked around. The village seemed to be one of those places where time just passes by at a distance and everything remains the same.
“You must be the new lady at the manor” said the lady in the greengrocers. “Very nice to meet you, if you can’t manage the walk to the village just give us a ring and we will deliver. No problem and here is our calling card with the number.”
Jenny thanked her glad to meet such a friendly woman and went to the hairdressers to meet Jacky.
“Hello Jenny I am just finished. If you want to make an appointment as well, my hairdresser said she would have time just after lunch.”
“Well I don’t really visit the hairdressers so often” said Jenny
“Oh come on Aunt Jenny” Megs was there as well, “then you will have lots of curls like my mum.”
“So, Megs, perhaps Aunt Jenny won’t have any curls if her hair is cut. Mine are not natural, Jenny, it’s a perm, but I think you would have natural curly hair.”
The hairdresser came on the scene.
“Yes I think so too, you have beautiful hair Miss, you should show it and not pin it back. Make the world of a difference.”
“Good” said Jacky, “so that’s arranged, after lunch at the hairdressers.”
Jenny was a bit overwhelmed, but decided why not. She had no-one that would care if she looked like a scarecrow or not. And it was done.
Jacky went with her and waited.
“Jenny, that is fantastic. You have beautiful hair and if I may say so you do look very pretty with it cut shorter. It makes a lovely frame around your face.
“Aunt Jenny, you look like the fairy queen” said Megs, although her mother told her that it might be that Aunt Jenny did not want to look like a fairy queen.
Jenny laughed and was surprised herself. Actually she felt like rejoicing. She felt new born. No-one had ever made such a compliment to her looks, no-one had ever really looked at her.”
“That evening she sat in front of the mirror again and was looking at someone different: the same little girl that she saw on the first evening, but this time it was a woman. She heard a sigh behind her and when she looked saw Aunt Josephine, although looking more like a misty apparition than something out of flesh and blood.
“So Jenny, now I can leave you to get on with your life on your own. I just did not want the same thing to happen to you in your last days as myself. Forgotten and alone, no friends to take care of you. Please do not forget me or these words” Aunt Josephine had spoken and as quickly as she arrived she disappeared and Jenny was alone.
“Did I imagine this or was it reality” and that night she slept sound and long.

*********

“Well how are things going with our “heiress” Roger”, uncle James asked his nephew.
“She seems to be feeling quite at home in her new house” was the answer. “I think she will stay”
“Well, I hope she does, but isn’t the place a bit big for her. You know I only like satisfied people as my clients.”
“Yes, well uncle I was going to mention she has invited me and the family to stay for the Easter holidays and Megs will be staying throughout the Summer as Jacky and I were thinking about taking the boys on one of those adventure holidays.”
“Brilliant idea, Roger. I think I will have to call on Miss Jennifer myself to see how she is doing.”

*********

Uncle James paid Jennifer Mullens the first of many visits the following week-end and was so surprised to see the difference in her. Well he thought, she is really a pretty woman and of course he had some financial details to discuss with her.

The year soon passed and Jenny decided to stay at the manor as it was known in the village. However, the house was just too big for Jenny alone and so she was glad of the occasional visits of Roger and his family. She was also quite happy when Uncle James accompanied them and guess what. She really did become Aunt Jenny eventually, but for Megs she was Great Aunt Jenny and for Roger just Aunt Jenny and James found living in the Norfolk countryside was ideal for his health. Of course, Jenny and James made a point of visiting Aunt Josephines grave at least once a month and placing fresh flowers on it. somehow Jenny felt she owed this small token to Aunt Josephine's memory.

Pictures to Words 4: Faces - Rejoice

The Swiss Army

For those that may wonder at the title of this blog, yes we do have a army in our neutral Switzerland, I mean we have to keep the others out if there is a war on. During the last world wars the Swiss were all sitting at the frontiers waiting for the hordes to enter. My father-in-law was there. What they were actually waiting for I don't know and Switzerland were very lucky. A few stray bombs did hit Zürich with mortality wounded but that is another subject.

Basically every Swiss able man has to do military service from the age of 18-19 until he has done his amount of days in uniform. I am not the expert but that is the way it goes. My son was at the Gymnasium and only finished his studies when he was around 21 so he only then went into service. However, at the age of 18 he had to go with all the others of his age to be examined for the capabilities. Those that have illnesses or otherwise are not required. My oldest boy is autistic so it did not come into the question for him. Otherwise on a certain day all those of a certain age have to report at the local gymnastic hall and go through various tests. Climbing, running, jumping etc. etc. They are interviewed to find out where they would like to serve. My youngest was not really the active type but seemed to have given such a wonderful talk about tanks and their advantages that he was put into the heavy artillery. They actually only take two persons on that day for that group and it was him and a school colleague. My dad was in the heavy artillery in the war so that was probably the reason.

Eventually he was called up and did recruit school which is three months. He was somewhere on top of a plateau where they keep the tanks in the french speaking part of Switzerland. He had a two and a half hour train journey to get there - all expenses paid by the military. I was impressed by the gear he was given. Apart from the rifle and the ammunition, which every Swiss soldier must keep at home ready in case of emergency, they had clothing in a quality that was almost Saville Row. A wonderful knitted pullover with leather arm patches, two uniforms, one for every day and the other for Sunday. All this had to be kept at home and packed and taken with him when he had his annual service. He finished last year. As my son was eventually a law student he was made "furrier gehilfe" which is more or less looking after the financial stuff. There are no computers and he had to do an extra course for that. There were many that did not qualify, simply because they missed the computer. My son is now finished and did his duty.

That was just a bit of an introduction to say how it works. By the way the picture at the top is the local military central where all the orders are made and where all the documentation is kept. There is another building where the equipment is kept. I suppose most know the Swiss Army Knife. My son had one, but he bought another one as well. When he had inspection he just showed the nice clean new one so that he didn't have to keep cleaning the one he got from the military.

At the moment we have a small problem in Switzerland, it is quite fun actually. We only have a general in war time, so at the moment we just have a bloke who is in charge. We have a new man at the top of the army and we have problems. It seems that our government, in particular one of our ministers responsible for the military department, should have examined this new man a bit closer. The new man is not married but had a girlfriend once - note the past tense. The girlfriend decided to leave this army man for some sort of private reason, which is really not important. What important is that the army chief felt that this lady should not leave and he decided to take revenge. He sent her name and address to men that were looking for a woman for private hours, he put her name and photo in Internet and wrote that she was available for any man that was interested. The result was that this young lady was getting rather annoying telephone calls, men calling on her during the day and generally getting bothered. I would also mention that she had a daughter living with her.

Well I must say I admire the lady. What did she do. She went to the police and registered a complaint. That really needs a lot of courage, and generally women are laughed at when they come with such a story. She stuck to her rights and the police searched further, they confiscated the new military chief's computer for further examination.

In the meanwhile this has become a national issue in Switzerland and the minister that was involved should have pursued this matter further. His mistake was that he didn't and supported the new chief of the army with the idea that his private life was not to be taken into consideration. However, other politicians and especially the newspapers are not of this opinion and find our minister should have taken the case just a little bit more serious. The minister will definitely not lose his job as he belongs to the right wing party and if he goes then his successor will probably not suite the rest of the government. Extremes are never looked upon with a kindly eye in the Swiss government. The latest I have heard is that our minister has been sent on holiday until 1st August and he should then come up with a solution for all. Basically you cannot have an army chief with such a private life and way of getting things done. Personally I would send him to recruit school with the others - that would do him a lot of good. I just hope we don't have a war with our neighbouring countries. We nearly did once when one of our tanks pointed in the wrong direction and set fire to a forest in Lichtenstein, but that stayed amongst friends. After all Lichtenstein use our money, it is only their stamps that they actually produced themselves.

So that is the latest news from Switzerland. And what does a Swiss soldier look like. Well this photo shows a 21 year old on leave from recruit school.

This is the going-out uniform. The colour of the beret is red corresponding to the heavy artillery regiments. Medical personal have a blue beret, infantrists a green one etc. etc.
The socks must be black. I was told before they went out they all had to stand on a chair and lift the trouser legs. The officer then did an inspection to make sure all were wearing black socks. The uniform for action is naturally in a camouflage colour, sort of green and brown leafy thing. My son did get one stripe sort of lance corporal, but that was more complementary. He was often used as a translator as his sergent was not so good at French and my son was together with the French speaking Swiss. As he was on office duty he shared his barracks with the cooks and tank drivers and that was a French-German speaking mixture. He was often sent into the village to see to the provisions as the place where they were was French speaking and the shop owners understood him. My son finished his duty last year in August and he was not sorry. We do have conscientious objectors in Switzerland as in other countries and today they can do an alternative service in social work. It was only a few years ago that they had to do a prison sentence.