An Open Letter to the Good People of Detmold, Germany

Back in 1953, Veronica Owen (who essentially gave birth to NOP three years later) spent a transformative year in the city of Detmold in what was West Germany at the time. She compiled her version of a Poesiealbum – a traditional friendship or poetry album where she posted short rhyming verses, shared words of wisdom, and added photographs and postcards. These days she would have been a huge fan of Instagram or Pinterest; but in those days, the Poesiealbum was the way to go.

We’ve recently been fortunate enough to collect her work and reproduce it as a brand new publication and pretty splendid it looks too. She’s so thrilled with the book that she’s taken to write to the good people of Detmold to thank them for her time there and here it is. We’re keen to find out what happened to the people she mentions in the letter; so if you know what happened to Helmut and Gertrude Petri and their daughters Ingrid, Almuth, Gisela and Erika of BismarckStr. 9, Frau Auer the music teacher and the mysterious Hans Kettelharker, it would be great to hear from you!

To the Good People of Detmold from Veronica Owen, 5 September 2026

To begin at the beginning:  Francis Keith Aitken, born in Barry, Wales, 1907, my father. Charlotte Margaretta Louise Elizabeth Petri born in Reichenbach, lived in Belgard, and later in Stettin in 1910, my mother.  Keith and Lotti met in London, 1930, and married in Stettin in 1932. Later, my father, at the end of World War Two, as a squadron leader in the Royal Air Force, visited Detmold at the request of Lotti, as she had friends in Bismarck Strasse, number nine: Mr. and Mrs. Petri (no relation to Lotti’s father).

In 1953 I was invited by Helmut and Gertrude Petri to stay with them and speak English with their four daughters, Ingrid, Almuth, Gisela and Erika.  I lived with the Petris from September 1953 to December 1953 and while there, I went to a typing school every day, and also to music lessons, with Frau Aue who introduced me to the beauty of Bach’s music.  In the evenings, Herr and  Frau Petri would invite me to drink wine out of beautiful hock glasses. We would sit around a lovely round table and talk about many things.  Quote from my diary:

“Last Sunday, Hans Kettleharker and I went for a lovely long walk from Berlebeck to the Externsteine.  We visited where many eagles were kept, and also the remains of what was once a castle on the top of the hill.  We then walked through the Teutoburger Wald, huge rocks nearby. This Sunday, we’re going to see Carmen, Bizet.  A guest singer will be there, Rosemary Braun from Stuttgart. I visited the opera house on a few occasions with Hans. Meistersingers, Tales of Hoffman. Aida.”

While living with Helmut and Gertrude Petri, I compiled my anthology, now known as Happiness. I was lucky enough to be given a room with a desk so I could write out the poems and odd pictures, as I thought most appropriate. I bought some of the pictures in Detmold, and also the actual book in which I presented them.  To thank my mother, Lottie Aitken, for all the parcels of food and clothes, she sent to Gertrude and Helmut, Gertrude wrote on 19 May 1946:

“Liebe Fürsorgerin, du ahnst nicht, welche Freude du uns gemacht hast. Wenn wir nur auch dir einmal eine kleine Freude machen könnten! Wenn du irgendwelche evtl. erfüllbaren Wünsche hast, schreibst du mir, nicht wahr?

Herzlichst, deine Gertrude.

You can bring a little happiness to yourself and others here:

Happiness by Veronica Owen

Happiness is the only sanction of life; where happiness fails, existence remains a mad and lamentable experiment. (George Santayana, 1863–1952)

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“Beautiful… gorgeous… stunning… fascinating… delightful.” Many early readers have responded to Happiness with extraordinary warmth and have particularly valued the retention of the original handwriting, which gives the book an unusual intimacy and authenticity. Readers describe feeling privileged to encounter the material and see Happiness as a book to explore slowly – something to dip into, return to and discover over time.