Letters from Alice


Editor note – We want to hear  stories from our readers, but sometimes it’s nice to go back in time and hear from the deceased, sharing their words in well formed letters, with pen to paper, revealing travels, thoughts and secrets in an envelope. This one is from a woman named Alice, in 1973, traveling overseas in Madras, India.

October 18, 1973


Dear Family,

We are now in the bustling city of Madras – some 4 million that looks like 20 million.  We often comment on the masses of humanity here in India. Today we leave for Hyderabad, also a large city.

We are flying again and as much as I really dislike flying I was happy to get on the plane for Madras. Traveling on the bus can never really be described. I wrote someone about our trip up the mountain and back down.

Now, I MUST tell you something which should not get back to Frank*, at least not now. I have become involved in an international romance.

After we left Bangalore I met a Scotsman (pure Scot) who is an engineering consultant for a huge firm located in Manchester, England. He is my age, was a confirmed bachelor, speaks five languages and is quite wealthy.

He lives all over the world (wherever they send him) in the plushiest hotels one could imagine. Well, his work in India is finished so he moves when we move – flies in or hires a driver. Hired a driver for the 200 miles this weekend.

All I have to do is say the word and I’m being offered an exotic life all over the world. I think his next assignment is to Malaysia? He means it – the whole group is teasing me constantly about it. In the meantime I’m getting letters from Frank and last night a phone call from him which I missed because I was being entertained at this magnificent hotel for dinner and the cabaret show.

I’m going in circles – cause I’ll admit such an existence is tempting me. I would never have to give money another thought – would just live in the best hotels with taxis and servants at my beck and call. He is really a nice man – does not drink or smoke – oodles of fun! His Scottish purr would kill you.

Well, you can see the dilemma I’m in – have four more weeks to work it out. In all probability I’ll come home and work like a dog the rest of my life. I just thought I’d tell you folks – just so Frank doesn’t know – you can pass this around.

Love to all,



*Husband at the time.