Memory Project: The .22 Pistol
During my childhood I saw my mother in tears on many occasions.
During my childhood I saw my mother in tears on many occasions.
Henry F*ckit (my alter ego) worked as an orderly at Groote Schuur Hospital in the late 1970s. When he applied for the position he was interviewed by Matron Sharp, who described the duties of a nurse and what would be expected from a nursing assistant...
What prompted my father to move to Southern Rhodesia in 1956 was the news that good money was to be made from carting gravel for the construction of the country's expanding road network.
The war in Ukraine has confirmed my belief that as members of the human race we will never be able to suppress our brutish tendencies and that civilization is merely a veneer that hides our true nature.
Half a century ago, at the age of 21, I travelled around the UK and Europe for a year. Because I arrived without any money, I had to take temporary menial jobs to finance my stay.
While I was building, I learned a few things about reinforced concrete. Eventually, depending on proximity to the sea and thickness of concrete cover, the steel will begin to corrode.
On returning to South Africa from Rhodesia in 1963, my father found employment as a motor mechanic in the Simon's Town Naval Dockyard.
"You know, two months ago I would have been incontinent with laughter at this buffoonery." Henry shook his head ruefully. "But I seem to be losing my sense of humour."
Another winter storm was attacking the island. Gordon, the radio operator, picked up a call from the Tristania. While passing close to Gough in a heavy sea, a crew member had fallen into the hold and broken his arm.
Every white family in Rhodesia could afford at least one houseboy and often a gardenboy as well.
When I arrived on Gough Island in 1980, I had seven LPs in my luggage. In the Gough House living/dining room was a radio and a hi-fi turntable and speakers. Not having brought my own sound system with me, as had the others team members, I was obliged...