Our Mountain Burns

Once again Platberg is burning. Old school friends Noeline Bester and Annatjie Labuschagne sent these images. Sure hope the Grey Rhebok and Mountain Reedbuck and Chacma Baboons that Koos Beukes and Pierre du Plessis tell me are still there, are OK.

Fire! Fire!

We had asbestos heaters on the walls in our Louisa Street residence in Doornfontein, Johannesburg. The res was in the shadow of the not-yet-completed Ponte tower – the 50-story residential cylinder up on the hill that became famous and notorious for varying reasons over the years. Late one night we woke up to yelling andContinue reading “Fire! Fire!”

Where Have You Been!?

The Kleinspan schooltime ended around twelve noon or one o’ clock I guess and we lived less than a mile east along Stuart Street and so one bleak and chilly winter day Donald Coleman and I set off for home in our grey shirts, grey shorts and grey socks – and grey jerseys. We hadContinue reading “Where Have You Been!?”

A Farm in Eloff Street

Freezing on top of Platberg, wet and an icy wind. We huddle and chomp some snacks. I brought matches, I’ll light a fire, I announce. But it ain’t easy, dry kindling is hard to come by, but I persevere. Pierre and Tuffy are skeptical: If you get that going I’ll buy you a farm inContinue reading “A Farm in Eloff Street”

Call the Engine, Call the Engine . .

Farnie, is that a box of matches in your pocket? asked stern Uncle Louis. No Dad, its just a block of wood. We were having lunch on their smallholding east of Harrismith and father Louis knew enough to ask, but not enough to check. After lunch we were off into the veld and once outContinue reading “Call the Engine, Call the Engine . .”