Old Oke Desk

Long, long ago Annie said to me I should get her beloved husband Frank’s oak desk. I hope I said something suitably appreciative. In the meantime, the desk would stay with her daughter Mary. Mom.

We never knew Frank. He died when Mom was just fifteen, still in school. ‘In JC,’ she says.

Annie had five grandkids and I suppose her reasoning was the only grandson should get the Oke Desk? A lot of mysterious value was attached to having a penis in ye olden days. OK, so not that much has changed, really, has it? Everyone knows you need a penis, say, to drive a train. Yet of the many train drivers whose eyes I tested the ladies were by far the most alert, interesting and interested. When next I go on Shosholoza I’m gonna ask for a lady driver.

I digressed.

So now Mom was in Azalea Gardens, and soon the house in Ivy Road would be sold, so it was time to fetch the desk. My inheritance! So I dismantled it, loaded it on the back of and inside of my Ford bakkie double-cab and re-assembled it in my lovely & tidy home office.

It looks good.

Very importantly, the key is in the top drawer, attached by string to a faded cardboard label ticket. Written in (I suppose) Annie’s handwriting: “Key of Frank’s Desk.” Interesting, as there’s no lock or keyhole in the desk, nor any of its drawers!

~~oo0oo~~

‘Fraid it wasnt in my care for long, Annie! Only a few years later it moved on. It’s in sister Sheila’s care now, as I’ve sold my home. Once again I took it apart – 14 separate pieces – and schlepped it in my same Ford bakkie to Sheila’s place. I took care to make sure she got the key, too.

~~oo0oo~~