Tag Archives: memories

Describe 3 significant childhood memories; (blog chall 2)


Hope this doesn’t bore you too much:

1- Enid Blyton. Enid and most of her books took up a large amount of my time. I always wanted to be part of the Famous Five. In fact I started my own gang called the Wonderful One. My clubhouse was in the Coral Tree in our front garden on the farm. I loved climbing trees. I was quiet a tomboy yet at the same time spent hours trying on make-up in the bathroom or trying on my mom’s “It’s a Pleasure Party” outfits. I think “It’s a Pleasure Party” was not dissimiliar to Tupperware, Golden Products and Avon? My mom had this kiff red and white polka dotted halter neck dress from the 60’s and it teamed up well with her  pair of glitzy gold sequined ’70’s platforms!

2- Going to the sea to our Beach House. Great Excitement. Days of baking. Days of packing. (I think the sea house was 15kms away!). There we had TRULY, the best memories of my life. I remember before it was modernised, the paraffin lamps and the long drop toilet outside with black and white cowboy comics and the BIGGEST brommers (flies) with green eyes you HAVE EVER seen. It had a very unique smell too. If I smell musty poo, with urine, blazing sun, the sound of brommers, curled up yellowing comics, it sends my senses reeling back to that Long Drop. Oh yes it had a melted used candle in a candle holder in the corner with orange and cream patterns. I think it was enamel. We still go there every Christmas. This year will be my 40th year. and now my kids love it there too.

3- My Granny Peggy’s linen. I think that’s where my love of linen comes from. Granny Peggs. Granny Peggy used to starch her sheets. Her pillows were always well plumped, her linen fresh smelling and cool to the touch and pure percale. She always set her table beautifully with 2 knives, forks, pudding spoon and fork, side plate to your left, starched napkin, each setting had their own salt and pepper. I set my table like that for every meal. 2 knives, fork, side plate, napkin, place mat etc. Not as toffed up as Granny Peggs but similar. I have of course trained Thembisa.

4- My Dad’s vegie garden. Something to behold. He loved it and had everything growing in there. My Mom’s Barberton Daisies (now commonly known as Gerbera’s). My mom was well-known for her Barberton Daisies in our area and used to sell bunches at the local Home Industries.

so many more.


The joys in your youth……..


Let me tell you about the time I was 17 and I was allowed to go out to Barnacles with my sister and her current boyfriend (now husband).

 Barnacles, if you don’t know, was a Pub/Pizza jol in Port Alfred. It was a Port Alfred landmark and many a romance, one night stand, drunken career was started there. I learnt to drink Hunters Gold there. I learnt to smoke there and it used to be my favourite haunt in my late teens and early twenties. We’re talking holding on both sides of the toilet cubicle with both hands splayed trying to balance as you pulled up the zipper to your jeans, sipped your Hunters Gold, Benson and Hedges clenched between your teeth and laughing uproariously at your mates jokes. Coz you know, we all used to go the loo in teams….just as a back up.

 (My friend once went to a dodgy dive in East London when she was younger and had her shoes stolen off her feet as she sat on the loo having a wee. The girl slipped her hands under the door and grabbed her shoes and did a runner. The friend was so shocked that she was immobile for few minutes before she reacted, but by then it was too late and the girl had vanished to the other side of the Buffalo River.)

My Barnacles era was a time when you leant a lot. You learnt how to squint and lean on the bar counter as you followed a conversation. How to push your boobs out a little further for a free drink and how to dance to Eddy Grant in slow motion on the dance floor. Fun times in the ’90s.

Well this one time, my folks allowed me to go to Barnacles with my sister and her boyfriend. Great excitement I tell you. I remember coiffing and bouffing my perm into submission, tucking my Benny and Henny’s into my bag and off we went in his 1984, 1600 Ford Escort. I couldn’t sit behind the passenger seat, because the seat would move backwards and forwards depending if you were going uphill or downhill. Still, I felt very grown up and ultra cool.

Later that evening, sitting on a bar stool surveying the rest of the pub and dance area all very cool and detached, I nonchalantly lit a cigarette. It was at that moment that the cigarette went up in a blaze of flames and smoke. The music stopped, everyone stopped dancing to watch me, it was then that I, red-faced,  noticed that I’d lit the filter side of the cigarette.

It has been 21 years since this shameful, humiliating incident and it is with great relish and joy that I’m reminded of it at every family get together by my sister and husband.

The joys of youth…..

school ties, friends and red wine….


I had two friends visit this weekend. School friends from High School. I’ve been out of school for 21 years. Old school friends, particularly hostel friends, are like sisters. You pick up where you left off. You have so much in common coz you went through those damaged, fucked up confusing teenage years together.

I always tell John how much I love teenagers. Especially the 85 teenagers in my Sunday School class. It’s such a confusing time being a teenager. You’re hormonal, not  a child and not an adult yet, you feel stirrings in your loins for the first time, you’re rebellious, moody, confused, depressed and excited to start your life. You experiment with clothes, with boys, with how far you can push your teachers. you’re hailed an absolute hero if you can actually make your teacher cry.

 Well it was like that in our day. After prep(2 hour evening homework session)  one night in hostel, I think I was in standard 8, a girl made Mr L cry. Mr L was a 28-year-old student at Rhodes and a hostel master. She literally broke his spirit and the grown man, studying theology at Rhodes broke down at half past 8 at night and sobbed in front of 120 girls. The sad thing was that he got no sympathy. The 120 girls howled and shrieked with laughter. They mocked and scorned and goaded the poor bastard….

I think he’s still scarred from that night. We remembered this story at last years School Reunion, with exquisite fondness as a highlight of our school career. Of course we had knocked back a case or two of red wine whilst reminiscing….

So girls, thanks for the visit and for the laugh last night. I loved it.

Oh yes, I promise you…we haven’t peaked yet!