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A few months later, World War II broke out. After serving in India, Newby volunteered for the Special Boat Section, which sent squads of soldiers ashore to blow up enemy aircraft.

On an August mission off the coast of Italy, Newby was unable to return to his submarine after attempting to attack a German airfield and was captured by the Germans. He spent thirteen months in P. A sympathetic Italian commandant, who was later beaten to death by the Germans, let the prisoners escape. Newby, who had recently broken his ankle, left atop a mule. A Slovenian couple with anti-Fascist sympathies sheltered Newby, who became smitten with their daughter Wanda as she taught him Italian.

Ultimately Newby was recaptured and returned to prison camps but survived the war. When hostilities ceased, Newby returned to court Wanda pronounced Vanda and thank her family for saving his life. They were soon married and settled in England, where Newby worked in the family clothing business. They ventured into territory almost never visited by white men and came close to summiting Mir Samir, a near,foot peak with almost no training in mountaineering.

Unlike many travel writers who prefer to wander alone, Newby prefers to travel with his wife, whenever possible. Wanda accompanied her husband on the first part of his trip to Afghanistan, until it was no longer feasible to have an unveiled woman about.

Wanda floated with Newby in Slowly Down the Ganges , hauling gear during portages and moving boulders to clear a channel in the riverbed when they ran aground. While in their sixties, the Newbys bicycled around Ireland in December, a sodden, and at times, exasperating trip chronicled in Round Ireland in Low Gear. Eric said he quite enjoyed the trip. In , Newby became the travel editor of The Observer , accepting the job only after the newspaper agreed to let Wanda join him on trips as his traveling secretary.

After a decade in that post, Newby moved on. Sadly, his Hindu Kush pictures were lost when a pack horse crossed a deeper-than-expected river. But his Moshulu images were published in , sixty years after the ship made its last grain haul, in a book called Learning the Ropes: An Apprentice on the Last of the Windjammers.

I traveled by train to their home in Guildford, about forty minutes southwest of London. Their modest Surrey home overlooks St. A bust of Newby stands in the entryway. Newby, who was eighty-four when we met, occasionally had difficulty recalling distant events, but Wanda sat by his side and prompted him.

At times his face would open into a wide, wistful smile, as he remembered a stirring moment from years gone by. As our interview ended, he said, with characteristic humility: It was a wild and stormy night. I went to St. I stayed at St. My father took me away from school, much to my horror, and put me into a business, which I wrote about in the first chapter of The Last Grain Race. That put me in an advertising agency, which had very, very beautiful typists, they were actually delicious.

I stayed there for two years learning the business, and I got more and more disenchanted with London. One day I went home from Piccadilly Circus where our agency was, and still is, and I went down in the Underground. It was absolutely crowded during the rush hour—there was only standing room. I suddenly felt a hand groping in my pocket and pulling out my handkerchief and blowing his or her nose on it.

I asked him if he would apprentice me to one of the last of the big sailing ships going around Cape Horn, which he did. This was in the autumn of I got my orders to go to Belfast and join a ship there, the four-masted barque, Moshulu , the biggest sailing ship in the world at that time.

After that come events that were quite hair-raising for me and quite amusing for other people. The only support you had up aloft was a wire hawser under the yards. The yards were crossed, and I was terrified of course, but they did the right thing. The captain would get fed up with you and you would be a waste of time and money.

So we sailed to Australia from Belfast in eighty-two days. It took us a month to load this cargo. We sailed for Europe from Australia, and we were thirty days to Cape Horn and fifty-five days to the equator, and eventually arrived in southern Ireland in ninety-one days, the fastest passage of the year.

There were twelve other ships, and ours was the fastest. It was the last grain race ever done—the ship is now anchored in Philadelphia. It was the last grain race because World War II broke out a few months later. Would you discuss your experiences during the war? During the war, I went to India for five or six months, which was fascinating.

That provoked me to go and make this journey down the Ganges later on. We both felt that it [the Ganges trip] was one of the most marvelous experiences that we could possibly have had. When the war began I joined in something called the Special Boat Section, which was formed to land troops on the enemy shore and blow up their aircraft and then, if possible, return to your submarine.

The first place I ever landed in was Sicily—I was landing with half a dozen men to attack a German airfield. This was in We failed to get back to the submarine because we got cut off. We were eventually picked up by Sicilian fishermen after having been six hours in the water. That was in when I was captured. And then in , after the Italian Armistice, we all broke out of the prison camp we were in, several hundreds of us, and there I saw Wanda, looking very beautiful. When the Germans came to take us to Germany, we broke out of the camp, and I had to be on a horse because I had broken my ankle.

It was at this time that Wanda met me and hid me—this is all described in Love and War in the Apennines. The main road ran in front of the prison camp, which was a large Italian palazzo -type building. I could see girls on bicycles—they were all pretending that they were going to visit the cemetery, but what they really wanted to do was see the Allied boys in the camp.

I saw Wanda, and she looked pretty attractive to me. She waved to me and I waved back. The sentries did what they were told to do and fired but missed. Then it became apparent that the Germans were not going to be able to be driven back out of Italy as we had hoped.

But we were let out of the camp by the Italians. After he escaped he went to a farm and stayed there for two or three days. After that it became dangerous. It was all terribly strange. We were terribly fascinated to see some English people. The only thing we knew about the English was they had very good raincoats. So they decided to put him near the maternity ward.

Yes, you learned quite a lot. My father and the doctor waited for him and they took him to the mountains. We had a hair-raising ride down the Via Amelia, that long road that goes from Bologna to Rimini. Anyway, we drove all the way down this Via Amelia, and on the way passed the 16th Panzer Division on the march.

It was the first time I saw our enemies close to. We got to the main town, Parma, where we would have to turn off to go to the mountains. As we entered the main square, which was full of Germans, our car broke down. It worked on methane gas and got a leak in the gas pipe. So we were putting our heads inside the radiator, which was the most sensible thing to do because there were all these German military police responsible for discipline.

All they were interested in was getting this square cleared for the 16th Panzer Division. So we drove unscathed through the mountains which was really fortunate. But the Germans got to know about my father and the doctor, and they put them in prison in Parma, a civilian prison. The thing was that there were a lot of partisans around, and when a German soldier was killed, they took at random, say, five prisoners and shot them. That was the great danger. The reason he was saved was that the interpreter of the prison was a Slovene—and we are Slovene—and I started talking to him.

I asked him where he came from and he told me: And that was my village. He said he would help me on one condition, that I come and tell him every week about the partisans in the village. And I said yes. Of course I would never have told him anything—I just gave him very silly messages. I think he got fed up—he told me not to come anymore.

He was operated on and never really recovered. He was a marvelous man. I got myself working in the family fashion business.

/p>

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Women only, no men please. Reply back with a picture and tell me what you are looking to get into tonight! Any fuck daddy ladies need assistance? Looking to meet up tonight. I stayed at St. My father took me away from school, much to my horror, and put me into a business, which I wrote about in the first chapter of The Last Grain Race.

That put me in an advertising agency, which had very, very beautiful typists, they were actually delicious. I stayed there for two years learning the business, and I got more and more disenchanted with London. One day I went home from Piccadilly Circus where our agency was, and still is, and I went down in the Underground. It was absolutely crowded during the rush hour—there was only standing room. I suddenly felt a hand groping in my pocket and pulling out my handkerchief and blowing his or her nose on it.

I asked him if he would apprentice me to one of the last of the big sailing ships going around Cape Horn, which he did. This was in the autumn of I got my orders to go to Belfast and join a ship there, the four-masted barque, Moshulu , the biggest sailing ship in the world at that time.

After that come events that were quite hair-raising for me and quite amusing for other people. The only support you had up aloft was a wire hawser under the yards.

The yards were crossed, and I was terrified of course, but they did the right thing. The captain would get fed up with you and you would be a waste of time and money. So we sailed to Australia from Belfast in eighty-two days.

It took us a month to load this cargo. We sailed for Europe from Australia, and we were thirty days to Cape Horn and fifty-five days to the equator, and eventually arrived in southern Ireland in ninety-one days, the fastest passage of the year. There were twelve other ships, and ours was the fastest. It was the last grain race ever done—the ship is now anchored in Philadelphia.

It was the last grain race because World War II broke out a few months later. Would you discuss your experiences during the war? During the war, I went to India for five or six months, which was fascinating. That provoked me to go and make this journey down the Ganges later on. We both felt that it [the Ganges trip] was one of the most marvelous experiences that we could possibly have had.

When the war began I joined in something called the Special Boat Section, which was formed to land troops on the enemy shore and blow up their aircraft and then, if possible, return to your submarine. The first place I ever landed in was Sicily—I was landing with half a dozen men to attack a German airfield. This was in We failed to get back to the submarine because we got cut off. We were eventually picked up by Sicilian fishermen after having been six hours in the water.

That was in when I was captured. And then in , after the Italian Armistice, we all broke out of the prison camp we were in, several hundreds of us, and there I saw Wanda, looking very beautiful.

When the Germans came to take us to Germany, we broke out of the camp, and I had to be on a horse because I had broken my ankle. It was at this time that Wanda met me and hid me—this is all described in Love and War in the Apennines. The main road ran in front of the prison camp, which was a large Italian palazzo -type building. I could see girls on bicycles—they were all pretending that they were going to visit the cemetery, but what they really wanted to do was see the Allied boys in the camp.

I saw Wanda, and she looked pretty attractive to me. She waved to me and I waved back. The sentries did what they were told to do and fired but missed. Then it became apparent that the Germans were not going to be able to be driven back out of Italy as we had hoped. But we were let out of the camp by the Italians.

After he escaped he went to a farm and stayed there for two or three days. After that it became dangerous. It was all terribly strange. We were terribly fascinated to see some English people. The only thing we knew about the English was they had very good raincoats. So they decided to put him near the maternity ward. Yes, you learned quite a lot. My father and the doctor waited for him and they took him to the mountains.

We had a hair-raising ride down the Via Amelia, that long road that goes from Bologna to Rimini. Anyway, we drove all the way down this Via Amelia, and on the way passed the 16th Panzer Division on the march. It was the first time I saw our enemies close to. We got to the main town, Parma, where we would have to turn off to go to the mountains.

As we entered the main square, which was full of Germans, our car broke down. It worked on methane gas and got a leak in the gas pipe. So we were putting our heads inside the radiator, which was the most sensible thing to do because there were all these German military police responsible for discipline.

All they were interested in was getting this square cleared for the 16th Panzer Division. So we drove unscathed through the mountains which was really fortunate. But the Germans got to know about my father and the doctor, and they put them in prison in Parma, a civilian prison. The thing was that there were a lot of partisans around, and when a German soldier was killed, they took at random, say, five prisoners and shot them.

That was the great danger. The reason he was saved was that the interpreter of the prison was a Slovene—and we are Slovene—and I started talking to him. I asked him where he came from and he told me: And that was my village. He said he would help me on one condition, that I come and tell him every week about the partisans in the village. And I said yes. Of course I would never have told him anything—I just gave him very silly messages.

I think he got fed up—he told me not to come anymore. He was operated on and never really recovered. He was a marvelous man. I got myself working in the family fashion business.

That made it difficult to contemplate any travel. The Last Grain Race was really successful, and my publisher asked me what I would like to do more than anything else.

I said I would like to go on a journey through wild country in central Asia. I had kept very detailed accounts every day about what happened on the ship. You must write them instantly. I knew that if you go to sea, you had to keep a log book. It may sound monotonous, but it made it possible for me to write what was really quite a good book about the sea.

When the coronation came in England in , we went to a party—a publisher we knew invited us. At this time I was working in a couture house in London. And he sent a telegram back saying, of course. When he came to England, we only had five days before we were leaving, and we both found that neither of us had ever done any mountaineering at all, which was rather terrifying.

We telephoned a pub in Wales near Mount Snowdon and went there and found people who were prepared to teach us to climb. Yah, it was pretty amazing. Just before we left, one of the waitresses in the hotel gave us a little book showing how to cut steps in ice. It was a very dangerous situation because this mountain was having the picturesque habit of appearing to fall to pieces.

Great rockfalls were taking place all the time. At any rate, we failed to get to the top. We could easily have said we got to the top because there were no porters or anything like that. In the end, tormented by what we should say, I sent a telegram to the editor of The Times in London saying Newby and Carless have failed to climb the 20,foot peak in the Afghan Hindu Kush.

Nobody could accuse us of not telling the truth. I was travel editor of The Observer , and it meant being abroad a lot. And she was, actually. We had an interview with Mr. The only occasion we used this thing was when we were far south on the Ganges. It was just before Christmas—we had no idea what we were going to do for Christmas; we knew everything closed up as it does in Britain.

We went to the Kanpur Club which had been a stronghold of sahibs.

Newby read the first multiple-choice question: What is today's date? The answers Newby had some difficulty deciding which answer was appropriate. The trouble “Do you feel like you've been pushed into a different world?” asked He decided to leave that question and come back to it. “About that Muldower girl. Eric Newby's life story reads like a Hollywood script. After a until it was no longer feasible to have an unveiled woman about. .. Do you think the world is a better place because of the opportunities for travel we have today?. English travel writer Eric Newby died Friday at the age of The iconic This is ALL THINGS CONSIDERED from NPR News. I'm Robert BLOCK: Today we spoke again with Wanda Newby. He was working in the fashion industry as a buyer of women's dresses as I understand it. But he didn't like it.