Whaddabout?

Email from: steve reed – Mon, 28 Nov 2011

to: Pete Swanepoel; Peter Brauer; Dave Rorke; Sheila Swanepoel

Subject: Old timers rock.

A joke shared at work this week reminded me of a classic moment from the past.

Pringle and Maddie were sisters, both spinsters in their early eighties. Pringle lived a good three hour drive away up the west coast at Omapere. She would come down to Auckland about four times a year to see her sister and get her stuff done, among other things an occasional eye test with their tame optometrist, yours truly, who would deliver the glasses to Maddie’s place up the road when necessary. Lately they are both looking a bit older and shakier.

So Pringle comes in (late as usual for her 10am appointment)  and when we are getting up close she says to me (no apology mind you): “Look, there may be a whiff of alcohol. Maddie and I like to have a whisky and milk when I arrive from up north. It’s a bit of a nerve wracking drive down, you know.”

“Women after my own heart,” I say to her, cementing our friendship even further, thinking I wouldn’t mind one myself.

~~oo0oo~~

Brauer replied: The old duck was probably too bashful to admit that the wee dram was in preparation for the trying ordeal of decision making required between “number one and number two” when they all look the bloody same – and awful at that!

~~oo0oo~~

Koos wrote: Harrismith had a number of sets of old spinster sisters:

The Hawkins, Flo & Madge & Bill & Blanche
Lived at Watersmeet, where the Kak Spruit flows into the mighty Vulgar River on the northern edge of the metropolis. The new bypass slices through their front garden. One was a headmistress and varsity lecturer and author (I have one of her books, The History of Harrismith – riveting stuff);

The Simpsons, Vera** & Joan
Ran a dairy on townlands on the JHB road just past the Verkykerskop turnoff; Seen in town every day with just a shock of white hair peeping above the steering wheel of their tiny grey Morris Minor bakkie with huge silver milk cans on the back, strapped to the cab – delivering milk to their faithful customers. Supply your own bottles, they’ll decant into them – how green was that! One of them slept on the open verandah of their old farmhouse – I can see her bed in my mind’s eye as clear as yesterday – summer and Harrismith winter for about 100 years. About. Wonder what the price of their milk was? Years later I got a letter in America. 1973. From my sat-next-to-each-other-from-Sunday School-to-Kathy-Putterills-to-Sub-A-to-Matric buddy Fluffy bemoaning the terrible fact (he even said “I don’t know where it will end”) that the price of milk had gone up to 6c a pint and the Scope magazine now cost 20c;

The Jacobs, Marie & Bessie
Lived on Walton farm, a paradise on the upper Vulgar River, huge old sandstone house in a garden filled with massive oak trees; Took over the farming when their father died and slowly earned the respect of all the boere with hairy chins (by out-farming them and not rubbing their noses in it); Had a second farm in the Vrede district and roared between the two in their white bakkies; Beesboere, mainly. They helped rescue me and my Italian mate Claudio when we wrapped a canoe borrowed from the Voortrekkers around a tree stump wedged in a rapid on their farm while tripping from Swinburne to Herriesmif on a swollen Vulgar River back in Std 9. 1971. I see old Claudio, engineer, from time to time and when he introduces me he says “Meet Koos. I slept with him.” We shared a damp sleeping bag – the other one was soaked.

As far as I know, though, none of these spinster sisters “dopped” publicly. Or not much.

**Vera was famous for asking, at a church meeting where they were desperately searching for “elders” to take the collection for the dwindling Anglican church, and Tabs Fyvie’s name was mentioned as a possible sanctimonious candidate – or anyway as a candidate:
“Has his shadow ever darkened the door of this church?”
The nomination was quietly shelved.***

(Mom Mary also thinks this may have been Flo Hawkins)

~~oo0oo~~

Sheila wrote: Loved reading your e-mail – brought back so many memories – am going to forward it to Etienne, Lynn, Redge, Pierre, Ann and Shirley Mason if you don’t mind and cousin Mike in USA – his memories of Harrismith are also priceless – I’m sure he’ll remember some of these old ducks. 

Who wrote to you about the price of milk? Was that Fluffy Crawley? (ed: Yep)

Spoke to Mum – the 5th Hawkins sister was Vi – she was tall and rangy; Mab (not Madge) was short and fat; Blanche wrote the book on Harrismith history; Bloody Bill (actually Mary) was a nurse up north in the war.  They had one brother, who actually married. His grandchild Jill used to visit and play with Barbara – her mother was Val. Their plot on the edge of town was called Watersmeet, full of tall lush green trees, probly cos one of the Waters that Met was the Kak Spruit.

The Simpsons’ farm was Moyeni – windy. Their step-mother, Dame Simpson, came to live with them for a while. Vera was the bigger of the two and had the square jaw and the wild grey hair – Joan slept on the veranda.  They also sold cream.  I can see that old grey bakkie so clearly, with that mop of grey hair spilling over the steering wheel.

Mum nursed Norah Miller, who smoked like a chimney – apparently some guy went to Boschetto one day and knocked on the door – as he was telling the story, someone said, “Who opened the door?” “I don’t know, but she had one eye, one leg and a helluva cough!” This was the principal, Norah Miller – she had smoked glass on one lens of her glasses and a very bad leg – Dr Reitz made her some sort of metal caliper which helped enormously with her walking.  Dad used to sell ponies to the young lady students – Billy Leslie was one of them.  Mum remembers her cousin Leslie (Jessie Bain’s daughter) telling her the story of the “cough” but she can’t remember who the man was. (The feature pic shows Boschetto below the mountain with agricultural gals hard at work).

***Stella was furious about Blanche’s (ed: or Vera’s) comment – Tabs was perfect, didn’t she know that?

The Jacobs – Mum agreed that old Mrs Jacobs didn’t have a name – she was just Mrs Jacobs – Bessie was the wizard in the kitchen and Marie worked with the animals and the crops.  Their cousin Robin Jacobs inherited everything when they died.  Remember the scuff marks from the British officers’ spurs which could still be seen on the low down window sills in that beautiful old farmhouse? I remember them so clearly.  The men used to hop in and out of the windows, instead of using the doors.  The house was commandeered by the Poms during the Boere Oorlog.  I seem to remember that we were camping on their farm when either the first heart transplant was done – or man walked on the moon – I can see us sitting huddled in the caravan listening to the radio – am I right?

Koos: I don’t remember I’m afraid, my only clear memory of a visit to Walton was this: I veered off from the rest of the people in that beautiful garden to have a pee under one of the impressive oak trees. When I got back to the group, Mom was disapproving! She whispered that she “could see – and everybody could have seen,” how I was weeing because my one leg of my shorts was pulled right up, so it was obvious from behind what I was doing. I remember thinking that was not such a big deal, and though I just kept quiet, I couldn’t imagine that it was a cardinal sin. I was fairly sure me n Jesus were still an item.

Who can add to these memories?  And the man who started all this is Steve Reed, whom many of you will remember as Spatchmo, Koos’s great mate from Optom Student days, now resident in NZ.  Ex-resident of Clarens – known as Nêrens since he left.

~~oo0oo~~