Tag: Di Fotherby

Letter from a Student – 1977

I wrote a letter – on paper with a ballpoint pen – as a final year optometry student! Astonishing. When could one find the time? To sister Sheila, newly-qualified teacher in Empangeni in Zululand. My news was:

Passed my supplementary exams.

Started organising our Annual Ball at Carlton Hotel already.

I’m SRC chairman till July.

The mighty grey and grey Opel Concorde ‘needs a tjoon up.’

I may not make Rag Ball in Pietermaritzburg this year!

Unhappy with res in Doories; expensive, badly looked after, phones don’t work; fought with matron; I am moving into a communal house, 4 Hillside Rd in Parktown, where Glen Barker and Clive Nel stay. ‘Before I go, though, I’m going to raise hell to see if things’ll improve.’ (!? )

Steve Reed, Cheryl Forsdick and I baby-sat for Bobby & Jill and Louis & Gail; Babies Craig and Twanet. ‘chaos for an hour, then not too bad. They enjoyed their evening; it had been a long while since they’d gone anywhere.’

Great parties; Braais; a Chinese Dinner-Dance; a cricket day; ‘Played our first rugby match in our new kit – pitch black from toes to necks with the only white our optom badge on the pocket and our numbers on the back; We beat the engineers 18-0.’ (I had REALLY wanted our kit to be all black – no white collars, no white rings on our socks, no white shorts – and we got that! Sponsored by Zeiss Optics).

‘Went to the Vaal river for a weekend’s skiing; two of the guys had boats; stayed in a resort – lovely; went to a 21st in Pretoria; Generally busy except for work – work is suffering muchly; latest tests got 50% and 82% – the averages , thought were something like 80% and 95%.’

And all that was in a letter written 10th March!

Later that year:

– truth-teller –

Went to Pete Brauer and Terry Saks’ wedding in Pretoria. I was best man, had to get on my hind legs. My partner was the delightful Cheryl Forsdick; Lovely evening; Driving back with Clive Nel and the delightful Sandy Norts in Clive’s gas-guzzling white Mazda RX-2 we had a midnight head-on collision; Some drunken idiot turned straight into us on the highway! I was fine but the others got a bit battered, with Clive, driving, the worst. He’s in plaster and on crutches.

~~oo0oo~~

30 May 2020
Someone Burst His Eardrum

Hip Hip Hip Hooray
1932

The Witwatersrand College for Very Advanced Education chose a rugby team to play in the inter-college festival down in Durban-by-the-Sea and they didn’t choose me. I can only think the selectors hadn’t had their eyes tested.

So I had to choose myself and find my own way down to the coast on the sparkling blue Indian Ocean so as to be able to add to the fun and laughter and educational and character-building value of such gatherings. And the imbibing contest, which was actually my forté, but – for some reason – they didn’t have a drinking span. Strange.

So we had to compete in our specialist discipline informally, yet enthusiastically. I spose because there were no officials officiating our match – which we were winning – we lost sight of the time and forgot to arrange accommodation n stuff, so when it became very late we looked around and found we were in someone else’s hotel – the salubrious Killarney – and in someone else’s room, like Ray Schoombie’s the flyhalf of a less important span that was only playing rugby. We were trying to scrounge floor space to kip on.

Schoeman and the delightful Fotherby were 100% legal and official and legitimately (if you believe that Slim and Pru knew about this) had a room and so we made merry in it. Perhaps too much. Because suddenly someone marched in and very rudely demanded that we shurrup and also that we leave. I stepped forward to help this rude gentleman right, but would he listen? Blah hotel manager Blah he carried on trying to explain while I was trying to explain. He was like:

Then another man stepped forward. A man of few words – also few clothes. His opening move was a mighty klap on my left eardrum, shattering the peace. Eensklaps, I understood what he was on about and agreed to leave the premises forthwith. He was what you’d call succinct. That klap blocked my ear, but cleared my vision and I now could see he was large and dressed like Shaka Zulu and carried a shield and a knobkierie.

All the way down the stairs this burly and persuasive gent’s lips were moving, so maybe he wasn’t all that succinct? Anyway, I couldn’t hear a word he said. I was deaf as a post.

He was like:

I was like:

Don’t worry, compassionate people, I found a comfy place to sleep (someone took a photo). The next day my empathetic “friends” were singing to me.

Unsympathetic shits. Luckily I couldn’t hear them.

~~oo0oo~~

span – team

klap – flattie; flathand smack

eensklaps – Shakespearean, meaning ‘forthwith,’ or ‘like a thunderbolt’

knobkierie – fearsome weapon used for bigger challenges than simply evicting trespassers

18 May 2017