Blaas, Boetie!

Marching in the cadets was a ballache. Once a week we would arrive at school not clad in grey shirts, grey shorts and grey socks, but in khaki shirts, khaki shorts and khaki socks. It was ‘kadet dag’ or something. Softening us up and brainwashing us in the glory of fighting for the vaderland. ThisContinue reading “Blaas, Boetie!”

Harrismith Mountain Race

Way back in 1922 a Pom army major sat in the gentleman’s club in Harrismith and spoke condescendingly about our mountain, Platberg, as “that little hill”. What was ‘e on about? It rises 7800 ft above sea level and he was from a tiny chilly island whose ‘ighest point is a mere 3209 ft aboveContinue reading “Harrismith Mountain Race”

R.I.P Steph

I can’t believe it. Steph. Died in a car accident today. Near Frankfort. I’ll write later. … … Here’s how we’ll always remember you, Steph. Us who knew you in the 60’s and 1970 – your matric year. His more recent friends and family remember him like this: Mad keen fisherman, yachtsman, can-do builder, taker-onContinue reading “R.I.P Steph”

River Trip Swinburne – Harrismith

Fluffy Crawley and I were dropped off in Swinburne on the banks of the Mighty Vulgar in the grounds of the Montrose Motel with our open red and blue fibreglass canoe. We were aiming to head off downstream, camp overnight and finish in Harrismith the next day. This was circa 1970. But we bumped intoContinue reading “River Trip Swinburne – Harrismith”