In the beginning
I was born a few days before South Africa was declared a Republic and I spent my first years as a toddler living in Sinclair Street in Belgravia, and I have very little memory of that period, I know I fell down a lot, and that could have something to do with it. I do recall odd fragments of neighbours and the feeling that something was not quite 100% right in the house we lived in. I still wasn't in school when we moved to 32 Robinson Road in Mayfair, possibly this was in 1965. In those days Mayfair was a rough place, with a reputation for gang violence, shebeens, alcoholism, poor whites, even poorer blacks and run down houses. Our new home was a 3 bedroom house in the block next to the railway lines, with Grosvenor Station around the corner. The minedumps of Crown Mines were about 2 kilo's away on the other side of the railway line, as was the Blue Dam in Homestead Park. When the wind blew strongly the streets would be covered in fine yellow dust from the dumps. Trains, often pulled by steam engines, would thunder past at regular intervals, and at night the police would patrol the area looking for people who never had passes. This was the era of the dreaded "Pass Laws" and the police were ruthless in their pursuit of offenders. Trams had been withdrawn from service in Johannesburg a few years before and new fangled trolley buses were used on the route to Mayfair and Homestead Park, but not to Brixton or Crosby. South Africa was decimal and I still don't know how to work in inches and feet or how pounds, shillings and pence were used (although, I would recognise a "tickey" a mile away).

Primary school education
My brother had gone to nursery school when he was a toddler, but that never seemed to work very well, so I was spared this agony. Spending my preschool days blissfully playing with invisible, and visible friends. I started primary school in 1968, attending EP Baumann Primary School in Queens Road, at the top end of Mayfair. It was considered to be a very good school, as opposed to the other locals like John Ware, Brixton Primary or Jubileum, the local Afrikaans primary. Like most schools though, it had its good points, and its bad, and yet we had a certain pride in it. I remember that we had "houses", I was in "Holcroft", and I know there was a "Swemmer" and "Webster" house as well. Holcroft always won the wooden spoon on sports day, but that could be because I was in it. The sports day was usually held at the local police recreation grounds in Mayfair and the whole school would participate in cheering on the participants in events such as beanbag races and and short distance sprints. The big playing field in the school was known as the "Ben Swemmer" and the school itself was named after Dr EP Baumann (A famous Pediatrician I believe). I don't recall much of Grade 1, our classes were in the prefab classrooms at the far end of the school where the grade classes were housed, and much of what went on around us was mostly misunderstood. We finished school an hour or 2 earlier than the "big school" and my mother would walk me to and from school until I eventually ended up doing the trip on my own. I do recall endlessly sharpening pencils with a cone of paper, and trying to jump the gap between the 2 sets of classrooms. A skill which came easier as I progressed up to Standard 5. Our teacher was Mrs Venter, and she has left no impression on me at all. Next to the Ben Swemmer was a large empty stretch of veldt which today is the parking lot of the Garden City Clinic, and just over Queens Road (which becomes High Street) is the Brixton Fire Station, while the Brixton Tower (Originally the Hertzog Tower or Sentech Tower as it is now known) dominated the hill about 500 metres away. I was promoted to Grade 2 in 1969, and to the class of the formidable Mrs MacDougall, a legendary teacher at EP Peanuts (as we knew it). This teacher was beloved of all those who passed through her hands as she was a wonderful, caring teacher, prone to outbursts and ruler flinging. She would guide and nurture us through Grade 2, teaching us to read, write and spell. I entered her class full of fear, starting out at "bottom section" and working my way through the ranks until I reached the lofty heights of "top section" by year end. However, leaving Miss Mac's class was something we all dreaded and many tears were shed on the last day of Grade 2. Std 1 was taught by the equally formidable Mrs Sherman, who had always taught Std 1. She ruled with an iron first and we spent much time sitting with our fingers on our lips or hands on our heads. In Std 2 we were under Miss Cole's hand, a benign teacher who was very popular with her students. Std 3 we fell under Mrs Van Der Merwe, a teacher who stifled creativity and who loved to use the ruler and wooden spoon on our outstretched hands. She was a budding misandrist and she treated the boys in her class like vermin. I came to dread her class and it was made even worse by our maths (or was it arithmetic?) teacher, Mr Botha. An emotionless, easily irritated, impatient, pipe smoking Afrikaaner who instilled fear wherever he went, he had a reputation for being one of the teachers who was fond of the cane and I was unfortunate enough to have him warm my rear end a few times. He drove one of the first Toyota Corona models around and we always prayed that we wouldn't see his car on the day we had maths. Alas, Mr Botha was very punctual, and when that car arrived we knew we were in for it. The smell of his pipe preceding him wherever he went.

Most Fridays the whole school would file into the school hall where Mrs Mac would preside over the assembly. The youngest children started out in the front rows and as you progressed through the next 7 years so you ended up sitting nearer to the back of the hall. Then we would sing.. and woe betide us if we did not produce perfection because Mrs Mac would shout NOOOOOO!!!! and fling the ruler across the stage. When it was over we would be quivering wrecks and would sing "The Happy Wanderer" on our way out of the hall

"I love to go a wandering,
Along the mountain track,
And as I go, I love to sing,
My knapsack on my back.

Val-da-ri Val-da-ra Val-da-ri
Val-da-ra ha ha ha ha ha ha
Val-da-ri Val-da-ra
My knapsack on my back. "

The hall had very high windows and was also used for film shows where we would eagerly watch such educational 16mm films as "Road Safety, Its Your Duty," or "The Slug, Natures Silent Partner." We never sat on the chairs in the hall, instead these were stacked along the sides just waiting for somebody to touch them. Once disturbed they would slide majestically onto the floor like a stack of dominos. Poor Jan, his job was to close the curtains using a long tree branch, a very slow process which often took half a period. There was also a motorised screen which came out of the ceiling, but the real gems were in the projection rooms at the back of the hall where 2 paraffin lamp projectors rusted gently away. They were real antiques and in my time at the school were never used. In Std 5 we used that room as a storage area for the new fangled overhead projectors, and found an ancient black and white copy of Flash Gordon which soon became a firm favourite of us all. The hall also saw the periodic school plays and once hosted Springbok Radio for a recording of "Pick a Box." I recall we had a few school plays and one year I was roped into playing a teddy bear in "The Teddy Bears Picnic."

"... For ev'ry bear that ever there was
Will gather there for certain,
Because today's the day the Teddy Bears have their picnic."

I was able to work my way out of that one with some adept sneakery, but in Std 4 was roped into the play once again. This time around I was supposed to dance "The Hora", but fortunately my dancing skills were non existent and I ended up doing a little penny whistle march to the tune of "Yankee Doodle Went to Town". We spent days practising our singing and even today I remember many of the songs from that play. Our class (Std 4A)'s skit was entitled "Around The World in 80 days," and ran for 2 nights. We were also going through a poker playing mania at the time and we spent much of the time in between the various acts making very small playing cards and playing poker.

The Transval Education Dept (aka TED). was very concerned about our health. And every year the school dentist would come along and probe our teeth, either saying "yes" which meant the dreaded School Clinic, or "no" which meant you were let off the hook. This ancient dentist was a relic from the previous age of dentistry and had advanced halitosis and we dreaded his arrival. The school doctor would call once a year and give us a physical, and when we reached Std 5 all the girls were given the dreaded German Measles injection. The Citrus Board, (aka Outspan) would also come along each winter and give us a show. This was an eagerly awaited event because of the free oranges and grapefruit which we received in a cardboard suitcase. We also got a small juice extractor which we used to get at the juice inside with. Each day in winter one of the workers of the school (Jan or January), would bring around enamel jugs of steaming hot cocoa, and even today the smell of cocoa in a plastic mug can drive me into fits of nostalgia. On Children's Day (5 November) we would collect money for child welfare and the class which collected the most would be taken to the movies in town. I went twice, and remember seeing 101 Dalmatians at the 20th Century bioscope in town.

When I was in Standard 1 the optician that visited the school discovered that I had weak eyes and from then onwards I wore glasses and endured the torments of my peers who used to traditionally call all specs wearers "4 eyes". The glasses did improve my eyesight, but they did nothing for my game playing ability, and as the glasses were prone to broken frames I had to be very wary of what I played. The temples of the glasses could set my parents back the princely sum of R12, which was a small fortune considering that the bond repayments on our house were about R70 a month.

All round us life went on, men went into space, the Cold War got colder, Apartheid grew more ridiculous, the Cape to Rio race would be founded, and Springbok Radio was the only real entertainment. TV had not come to South Africa yet and we were still in the dark in many aspects of life. If anything the world around us was something we heard about, but didn't really understand. In winter and summer we trudged to school in our black shorts, blue shirts and striped tie, the only concession to the weather being a jersey in winter. On our backs we wore grubby Sea-King Haversacks which grew more despicable as the term progressed, and inside we stored our sandwiches which we would swop with our friends. Our hair was shorn "short back and sides" and plastered with brylcreme. In our final year in primary school baseball fever broke out and every break we would play amongst the old oak trees which formed part of our playground. Our ball was a piece of rolled up silver paper, our bat, an 18inch ruler. I expect the girls, in their part of the playground, had their crazes as well, skipping, netball, and other mysterious games which involved clapping hands and giggling.

Prefects, EP Baumann 1974Going to the Bioscope
The movies (or "Bioscope" as we knew it), played an integral part of my growing up. In Mayfair we had 2 movie houses, or "bug houses" as we knew them. "The Mayfair", which was an upbeat sort of place (the building is still standing), and "The Ritz", which was THE place to see movies. They specialised in "B" movies, with screenings of Elvis, Tarzan, Cowboy and War movies for all the bloodthirsty hordes of young children in the area. Entrance fee was 25 cents, and we always had 25c for a bottle of orange juice, a packet of chips and a piece of biltong. The main feature was always accompanied by a comedy, forthcoming attractions, a serial and endless interruptions when the bottle flinging got too much for the manager. Up in Brixton they had "The Roxy" which was even more upmarket than The Mayfair, but we hardly ever frequented it. Going to the bioscope in town was more of a social event, and we would dress up to the nines and on a Saturday afternoon catch a bus into town to go to the Colosseum, 20th Century or His Majesties. These wonders of old time cinemas were reknown for their decor, especially the old Colosseum, with its interior done up like a castle courtyard with little globes set into the ceiling to represent stars. All of these bioscopes had a balcony, and usually an liveried usher would take your tickets at the door and add them to his string. An usherette would show everybody to their seats (in either the "Stalls" or "Circle") with calls of "excuse the patrons". In later years we would frequent Kine Centre (auctioned off in 2003), Highpoint in Hillbrow, and Ster City up near Doornfontein. The Colosseum bioscope was in the block next to what was to become the Carlton Centre, considered to be THE shopping centre in JHB, it boasted an indoor skating rink, 5 star hotel, 50 story office block and numerous shops and boutiques. Due for completion in 1971, a 5 acre hole was excavated, and over a million tons of rock was removed. Throughout the construction of the centre we were able to view progress at the site when we paid our periodic visits to the bioscope in town. At the time it was one of the biggest construction projects in the world.

Unused bus ticket from JHB

From A to B Our family never owned a car, and we used buses or trains wherever we went. In the early years the buses were trolley buses which would turn around in Homestead Park, or the London bus style buses with the platform on the back and with a real conductor. In later years they would introduce the double deckers which eventually were painted in advertising logos, and a single decker which was often used during the day. Many of those double deckers were only retired in 2000 and gave long and sterling service. The local terminus was in Loveday Street, right next to the old Union Castle Building, with its 12 foot display model of the SA Vaal and other wondrous things inside. As we lived close to the station we often caught trains when we needed to go to the doctor (who was in Denver), or the Children's Hospital at the top of a long hill in Johannesburg. Naturally, we were not privileged enough to travel in TJ1, the Mayorial car, which we occasionally saw when visiting town. The Johannesburg numberplates in those days were all TJ, with TSN (Terrible Snobs of the North) being Sandton, and TP being Pretoria. Like everything else in South Africa, trains were segregated by race and class and there were separate entrances, subways, bridges and waiting rooms for whites and "non-whites". Many of the older swing door suburban trains were still in service in "3rd class" and were hopelessly overwhelmed by passengers eager to get home or go to work. When we did go away on holiday we would go by train as well, a monumentous event which was planned months in advance. We would occasionally make a trip down to Bethlehem by train, usually part of the way the train would be pulled by a steam engine. The earlier trains were still wood paneled and had observation platforms on either end of the coaches. They had a smell of old leather and wood which was unique to them.

Off to the seaside
We seemed to go to Durban every 7 years, and we stayed at the "Coogee Beach Hotel" which was if I recall in Gillespie Street. The overnight train trip was part of the holiday, and about 6 weeks before we were due to leave my father would go to Park Station to book our compartment on the Trans-Natal. It was a very formal occasional too, the bookings for main line trains was run almost like a travel agent, and you bought the tickets as well as bedding tickets and meal tickets there. Then the long wait which would involve endless imagination, careful choice of clothing and end of year exams. Eventually the big day would arrive and we would pack the red samsonite suitcases and head off to the station and down to the main line platforms and wait for the electric units bringing in the train. The smell of those old coaches was something to be experienced, and the glowing woods and green leather was never really surpassed by the formica clad coaches of later years. Then we were off...
We never ate in the dining saloon of the train, but always had a huge hamper of sandwiches, boiled eggs, tea and fruit to munch on. Invariably we were hungry immediately after leaving Johannesburg. Then the ticket examiner would call, and then the bedding boy who would make up our beds in the traditional blue SAR blankets. At Germiston they would shunt on coaches from Pretoria and we would be able to watch the steam engines in action. Then the journey would commence and we would trundle towards Durban. Eventually my parents would pack us all off to bed, my brother and I always in the upper bunks. Alas, sleep never came to me on those trips and it would be a long night of listening to the unique noises of a train and feel the swaying motion as we journeyed to Natal. The next morning would see us meandering down the long hills of Natal, calling at sleepy stations along the way. Marionhill and Pietermaritzburg being especially remembered, and finally Durban.
The heat was memorable and the hot sticky week in December was always too short. We would go play in the sea and suffer the indignity of formal suppers at the hotel, visit the docks, Mini Town, the beach again and try cram as much into our long awaited holiday as we could. We had relatives in Durban and would invariably end up meeting up with them. I could never understand why there were no shells to collect on the beach and no matter how many holes I dug the sea would always fill them in. My love of ships was evident even then, with endless trips in the motorised boats by the beachfront, and an imitation nautical cap my favourite headgear. I clearly remember HMS Eagle calling at Durban, arriving on 22 December 1971, and watching her come in through the channel, crammed with Matelots who would flood Durban with unfamiliar accents. This was the last commission of this great ship and a huge thrill for a ship mad 10 year old. Alas, our holiday was only a week and soon we would be at the station once again, finished with Natal for another 7 years. I know I always wished that the the long train trip back to Johannesburg would never end, and getting back home to our normal life was a major downer after our week at the seaside. I know we went to Durban 3 times when I was in school, and only jerky 8mm films remain of those trips.

National Symbols

Old South African Flag

Old coat of arms

1977 4c Stamp

South African Airways logo

Shopping
Initially we did our monthly grocery shopping at the Rissik Str branch of OK Bazaars. In those days they actually delivered and we would stock up for the month. This was another occasion, as it often resulted in a trip to "The Tempting Tray", a cafeteria in the OK building which is where I got my love of "pie, gravy and chips" from. Usually on these end of the month jaunts into town we would also call at the rates hall in town to pay the rates and taxes, as well as go to the big department stores like "The Belfast" and "Greatermans", which was about 3 blocks from the bus stop in Market Street, or Leydens, which seemed to sell almost everything from furniture to clothing.
The closest grocery shops were in the area of Mayfair closest to Fordsburg, there was a Checkers and a Spar over there and when we moved to that area that's where we shopped. School uniforms were bought at Burgers or Ekspa in Fordsburg. Our friendly Chemist was Smiths Pharmacy which was in Church Street. Furniture was purchased at Lubners, Rudicks, or Geen and Richards. Our first TV, which was a Telefunken B/W, we bought on hire purchase, I recall it cost about R300. Meat was bought fresh at a butchery, and in later years we invested in a chest freezer and would stock up on a hindquarter. I would not even try to price one of those today, it is bound to run into thousands of rands.

This is the news
As mentioned previously, we never had TV in South Africa when I was young, so we grew up listening to the wireless. There were 2 main stations, Springbok Radio, and English Service, and they dished out a plethora of radio drama and entertainment which kept us glued to the edge of our seats. Every morning we woke to the sounds of "Clakkie" MacKay and Dana Niehaus with their morning show, and at night the last thing we heard was the closing of our favourite radio show. Of course we all had our favourites, and I suspect "Taxi" was one of the most popular, with "Squad Cars", a close 2nd. Other favourites included "The Men From The Ministry, Inspector Carr Investigates, High Adventure, My Name's Adam Kane, Father Dear Father, Consider Your Verdict, The Creaking Door", and a host of so many others which were unique to our individual tastes. On Sundays we ate lunch to the sounds of "From the Bell Tower", and after doing the dishes silence would reign for at least 2 hours while my parents had their afternoon nap. It was a very frustrating 2 hours too, because we couldn't play or listen to the radio, virtually all shops and businesses closed at 1pm on Saturday and only re-opened on Monday morning. In affect South Africa came to a grinding halt at 1pm on a Saturday. In later years I could take stroll up to my friends place, or take my bike and go for a ride up to Brixton or a walk to the Blue Dam. It was reasonably safe even in the midst of a rough and tumble suburb like Mayfair. When TV did come to our country it was of very limited duration, and broadcast in both official languages. Programming was limited, as the Equity ban was in force and we could not source British TV shows. I remember that the Afrikaans Drama department did a fine job, producing light humour like "Willem", and "Dokter Dokter". Somehow though, our local English series "The Villagers" just could not compete. When "Dallas" hit the screen businesses shut down for the evening, but oddly enough most people preferred "Rich Man Poor Man" with its scheming Falconetti being everybody's favourite villain. Sadly though, the emergence of television was also the death knell of the radio show and in particular of Springbok Radio. I do recall hearing the static laden sounds of LM Radio, the only station that seemed to cater to the youngsters, its demise saw the rise of Radio 5, and later Capital Radio and Radio 702. Radio Highveld was a popular music station, playing mostly middle of the road type oldies, with request programmes running in the evenings, drawing a younger crowd or people.

Reading matter
It was a tradition in our family to read the newspapers, and there used to be 2 main weekly papers in the 60's and 70's. "The Star", which is still going, and the ever controversial "Rand Daily Mail" which shut down many years back. My father would buy the Daily Mail to read on the train while The Star was an afternoon paper. The papers were usually priced at 5c, with the Sunday papers running to the unheard of price of 25c. Sundays we used to get the "Sunday Times", which is also still running, as well as the "Sunday Express" which has also gone. The English language press has always prided itself on being liberal, and during the height of Apartheid did much to keep the public aware of what was going on. Alas, as a child I expect the funnies were of more interest to me. I do know that Prince Valiant has been running in the Sunday Times as long as I can remember, and the same goes for Dagwood and Blondie. It was my job to buy the paper every day on my way home from school or later in the afternoons if I hadn't been able to find a copy, a habit I got into and which I only broke in the late 1980's when the papers got too thin, too expensive and the contents too controversial. However, even today I still buy the Sunday paper, although now it costs R8.50 (June 2005 price) and is nowhere near as thick or as interesting as it used to be. It is inevitable that I have given up reading Prince Valiant, I feel its credibility has really diminished and he really should be pensioned off.
My brother and I were also comic fans, collecting and swapping large piles of Harvey, DC, Charlton, Dell and Classics Illustrated with lots of other comic fans throughout our neighbourhoods. If only we knew what they were worth today we would have horded them instead. Part of the thrill though was looking at all those ads in the comics, ads which ran for years and which advertised things like Sea Monkeys and plastic soldiers. I also used to get Beano on an irregular basis and enjoyed reading the endless escapades of the soldiers who were re-fighting World War 2 in the pages of Battle Picture Library, and War Picture Library. These provided endless entertainment and gave a very skewed look at warfare in general, where all Germans went around shouting "Schnell" and "Achtung", and the Japanese used "Banzai" in every other sentence.
I was fortunate in that I was always encouraged to read, and I was a member of the Mayfair and Johannesburg public libraries right till we left Mayfair. In those days one could also go to the "book shop" and swop paperbacks, "1 for 1 and 5c" was the usual going rate, but then when you consider that a packet of Simba Chips cost 5c. My library teacher at school, Mrs Van Der Merwe, did much to encourage my love of books and I am still grateful for that today.

At play
My brother and I were born 6 years apart, and as such were never really playmates, so I grew up amusing myself. I never had a bicycle for many years and the only real friends I had were those I met when I went to school. It was reasonably safe to play outside in those years, there was not the constant fear of crime which is so prevalent today. Our games were simple, and seemed to be always tied in with war, radio shows, spies, movies and all permutations inbetween. Our foe was usually always German too, and any conveniently shaped stick made a suitable gun to fight the hordes off with. We rode our tricycles, played endless games of "cowboys and crooks", "hide and go seek", "running red rover" and lots of unnamed spur of the moment inventions.
Many of the games we played then are only remembered by those of my generation...
"Klei Lat" which involved going to a the local river and setting up teams who would then stick balls of clay on a stick (the "lat") and flick them at each other.
"Stingers", where one person throws a tennis ball at somebody else, and if it hits them then they have to throw the ball and try hit somebody else.
"Running Red Rover" where two lines were formed up opposite each other with linked arms, one person is then chosen from the opposition who has to then try and break through your line. If they are able to they are allowed to return to their line and if they don't they join the line that caught them.
"General Knowledge" where categories are chose eg. cars, animals, colours, names, countries. Then a letter from the alphabet is chosen and you had to find a corresponding entry starting with that letter in each category.
Many of these games didn't really have names, they just sprung up spontaneously wherever 2 or 3 kids were gathered and would swiftly become a huge mass of participants. When one moved to high school play suddenly died down and small groups tended to form on the playgrounds where everybody seemed to boast or brag or even smoke (if they were that way inclined).
Not surprisingly, our play was often shaped by what we heard on our favourite radio serials, or what we read in our beloved war books and comics. Occasionally we would make a surreptitious trip up to the Blue Dam and play amongst the dunes of the mine dumps, always on the look out for the ever feared security guards who were supposed to lock away any people caught on the mines property. Many children lost their lives amongst those dumps and many girls lost their virginity there too; either as unwitting rape victims or as willing participants of a secret meeting.
Like most other boys I used to buy Matchbox Cars (They cost 25c each) with my pocket money (a whole 60c a month), and today those cars which I so often abused are collectors items. You could still get tin plate toys too and at the height of the space race the shops were flooded with space related toys. We used to collect bubble gum cards as well, but usually they were seasonal, along with fads like marbles, yo-yo's (the Russel yo-yo being considered the "Rolls Royce" of yo-yo's) and dingbats. Having a keen interest in aircraft and ships meant that invariably my own private 1-72 scale airforce soon festooned the ceiling of my room, while various badly built ship models would gingerly last a few weeks on the bookcase before graduating to experiments in the bath. About a year before we moved house we bought a go-kart from friends for the princely sum of 50c, and used to ride this very unsafe contraption down a hill next to what we knew as "The Ash Veld". It was a very dangerous game which we played because a main road crossed at the bottom of this hill and we would ride blind down it. In fact the whole area around the ash veld was a great playground, we used to toboggan down the steep hill of this sports ground using a volksie bonnet, and even ventured over the road to "The Groot Gat" which was a hole where the storm water drains used to meet each other. Once again many children lost their lives in this area to murderers and rapists and dangerous conditions.

When we lived in Hanover Street, there used to be a toy store near the Ritz Bioscope called "Livingstones", and every month I would walk up and down those packed aisles looking at what I couldn't afford. I used to buy chalk a lot because we had this concrete backyard and there my imagination flew. I spent many hours drawing elaborate ship layouts in that yard, sailing off on my own adventures for many hours. When the rain came so my ship would sink and I would have to start all over again. In later years I rediscovered the old ball and claw bath which had been removed from our bathroom and transformed it into my version of a "craft", complete with hatch and imaginary controls and weaponry.
Every year we counted the days til Guy Fawkes, and the sale of fireworks (or crackers as we knew them) was restricted to 2 weeks before the event. We would save all our cents and bum a few more and then buy Tom Thumbs and Sparklers, Roman Candles, Catherine Wheels and bottle rockets for the evening of 5 November. We would also watch the weather as traditionally it always rained on this evening. As we had to be in bed early we only really had a short time to enjoy the bangs and swishes, and the next morning the streets would be littered with spent fireworks and squibs which we would collect. That evening the last fizzes would be heard and fireworks would disappear off the shelves for another year. In later years they banned it altogether, and while it has come back again, the control over fireworks sales has lapsed.
I must have gotten my bicycle when I was in Std 4 or 5, I know we were living in Hanover Street and my father ran behind me for ages as I struggled to learn on a bike that was just a bit too big for me. The prefered bicycle of choice by the kids was the Raleigh Chopper, a very modernistic bike which was notorious for "popping wheelies", both voluntarily or involuntarily. My parents erred on the side of caution and I ended up with a black Raleigh Rapier instead. In later years we all craved a "28 Dukwiel", which was a very large, very heavy robust bike which was very popular as a delivery bike. I wore a groove between our house and College Street where my best friend stayed, and crossing Church Street in Mayfair was a challenge to be endured on my way home from playing war and similar boyhood games. However, as I got through puberty so my interest drifted more towards reading and pop music, the bike went out less and less and by 1978 I had my own music centre and started on my record collection. Radio 5 had just started out and I was a regular listener to the request programmes. I had also been dabbling with long distance radio listening on an old valve receiver dating from the 1940's, heady days of hearing "Radio Peace and Progress" broadcasting from Moscow which loved to harrangue "The Pretoria Racist Regime".

Religion
Religion seemed to play a part in my life as a child, we were members of the congregation of Christ Church in Mayfair, and went to Sunday School at St Giles, the chapel which was in 7th Avenue. Father Wallace was the parish priest with his sidekick Mrs Linden who played the organ and ran the Sunday School at the chapel. Sunday school was one of those things we accepted as a necessary part of life whether we liked it or not. I do recall meeting one of my oldest friends there and getting a lift home with his parents on the back of their bakkie which we called "the hairdryer". Naturally every year we would don our sheets and bedspreads and participate in either an Easter Play or the dreaded "Nativity Play" in December. The amateur theatrics of this play are well known to every child who has seen it performed or who took a part in it. Of course the Carroll singing which we endured has left an indelible mark on me, I doubt if I even know the correct words of "While shepherds washed their socks by night." Eventually though, we graduated to the Church which is at the top of Langerman Street near Crown Mines and when we moved to Hanover Street would walk the few blocks to take part in the Sunday services. In 1981 my father was buried from that church and his ashes still lay there today. Most years my brother volunteered to give a puppet show at the church fete, and I was roped in to help provide an extra 2 hands and voice. We would have endless rehearsal's and plan and build puppet boxes and make "The Queen" a new crown and Mr Plod a new truncheon. My brother was famous for these shows, the pinnacle of his career as a puppeteer was when he did 2 shows for SAA and Barclays Bank in 1979. Guess who was roped into that??

The fairer sex
When I was young, girls were taboo. They were people who inhabited the planet, who were sisters of other boys and who supposedly would kiss you and cause you to die a grim death. Being dumped next to a girl in Standard 3 was not very good for my already fragile psyche, and I endured the agony of teasing for many months as a result, I suppose my poor desk partner must have felt pretty much the same (Sorry Naomi, it was the teachers fault). Boys and girls were strictly segregated during break at primary school and I never had a sister so never really got to know any girls. 2 of my friends had sisters and somehow they seemed to lead complex lives involving dolls, dresses, ballet, houses and tea sets. They sure dressed differently and were always running to their mothers crying. I guess we often tried to exclude them from our games and they just never seemed to understand the intricacies of fighting the Germans ala war book style. As these girls grew up so our interest in them was renewed, but now they didn't want to even know our troubles.
In Standard 5 I was seated next to the prettiest girl in the school, and in our sudden discovery of girls was actually considered a privileged person. Mandy was blonde and pretty and suffered from the jealousy of her not as pretty classmates, as well as the unwanted attentions of some of the bolder boys. She also gave me my first kiss.. Ok, it was a peck on the cheek, but to me? it was the first.
The high school I attended was a boys only school, so that put a dampener on my discoveries about girls. In 1978 I attended a SCA (Students Christian Association) camp and suddenly met a girl there who became a "telephone friend". Alas, she stayed in Sandton and I was stuck out in the poorer part of town so nothing ever developed. I know I marvelled at her seemingly busy life of tennis and parties and seemingly endless jaunts on holiday. I am sure she never even remembered my name most of the time.

Pets and animals
When we first moved to Mayfair I discovered that I had a fear of dogs. If I was walking down a street and saw a dog 5 blocks away I would try head off into the opposite direction as quick as possible. My parents couldn't really understand this and would often have to drag me screaming and kicking in an effort to escape the dog. It all changed when one of my grandfathers brought along a small black Schipperke pup to our house in Robinson Road. The poor thing was suffering from distemper, an illness that wasn't always treated successfully in those days. I expect my phobia melted at the sight of this miserable ill dog and I tagged along as it was taken to the SPCA and treated. It was touch and go, and the pup survived to become a boisterous, energetic and very good friend to me. I don't recall how long we had him, but shortly before we moved house he was run over after escaping from his leash and chasing after a dog in Central Avenue in Mayfair. I was devastated and eventually we decided upon another dog. By now we were in our new house and my parents settled on yet another black skipper (they were all named Blackie for some obscure reason). This dog had been used for breeding and was incredibly possessive about his food. He would only eat it if somebody came to visit, and inbetween biting their feet would gulp down his food with an intensity never seen before. My brother and I would take this dog and his huge bladder for a walk at night after supper and these walks would go on for quite a distance. When my brother went to the army the job fell to me, and I did it grudgingly. The dog and I had never struck up a rapport and if anything we only just tolerated each other. We had to put him down eventually after he suffered a heart attack at Guy Fawkes. Our next dog my brother bought as a misguided pet for my mother, but he was too big and clumsy and we had to give him away. Besides the usual strange blue budgies, I also had a hamster for 2 years when I was in Std 6/7 and it caused me many sleepless nights with its insistence on eating its way through the cage bars.

A visit to the Doctor
As a child I suffered endlessly with my tonsils, and my mother and I made endless trips up to the Children's Hospital. To get there we would catch a train to Park Station, then walk up the long hill which made up the top of Rissik Street. Past what was then the Schlesinger Building, past the Gold Miners statue, and onwards till we reached the hospital itself. I remember that the hospital had endless grey lino floors and we always ended up in waiting rooms. Eventually though it was decided to take them out and I was booked in for the op. It was usually a 4 day affair, the op being done on the 2nd day. I don't remember much about it though, except on the evening after the op my parents coming to see me, having made that long train journey and walk at night. I was still very much under the influence of the anesthetic so it was all a haze. I never did get the sherbet which was supposed to be given out while healing. I was fitted for glasses at that hospital, and chances are went there for innoculations and a variety of other childhood ailments. We always used to pass what was then known as The Fever Hospital, and like most children I had a morbid curiosity about what went on inside it. Up the road was the "Queen Vic", the maternity hospital where most of the babies in Johannesburg were born (myself included).
Our family doctor was in Denver and when we lived in Belgravia would actually make house calls. These were an occasion, with clean linen, pjamas, combed hair and a spoon in a glass of water next to the bed. Once we moved it meant a long train trip to Denver, often having to change trains at Park Station, and then a long walk up to the Doctor who was in Jules Street. Then a long wait to see him and the long trip home. Not really fun if you were ill, and invariably the whole escapade would take the whole day, and you were guarenteed a day off school.

The Rand Easter Show
One of the regular features of life in Johannesburg was the Rand Easter Show, which was usually held over the Easter period at Milner Park Showgrounds. My brother and I were regular attendees, catching a bus to Milner Park, or as in later years, walking the few kilo's up the hill. During the show the SADF would have searchlights running and they would slowly swing through the sky. We never went at night so I don't know what it must have been like to see those lights in action. The show was a day of intense activity, collecting pamphlets, samples, information and blisters on the feet. We would end up walking the place flat, even going so far as to go into each caravan, stall and pavilion. The beauty of the showgrounds was that each country/municipality/organisation had its own custom pavilion, many built at enormous expense, many were famous for having beautiful displays and many were just mediocre. Favourites included the Gold Pavilion with its fake gold mine, and the Defence Force stand, as well as the huge commercial pavilion with its smaller exhibitors. The "Tower of Light" was the biggest landmark and the cableway ran from there almost to the other end of the showgrounds. It was traditional that many of the show days were rained out, and each year it became more unaffordable and less interesting. Then they moved the show to Nasrec and it was never really the same.
The showgrounds also had a sinister secret, it was here that most of the National Servicemen to be mustered on the day they started their service in the military, my own sojourn would happen in January of 1980, but thats another story.

A New Home
In 1970 we were forced to move from our home in Robinson Road as my parents had had to sell the house as my father had been offered a new job in Pretoria. But, as luck would have it, the company burnt down and we hurriedly ended up having to make a plan before we ended up on the streets and we were reduced to buying 66 Hanover Street. This was in a run down portion of Mayfair, between Mayfair and Braamfontein stations. On one side of the Queens Road bridge was what was then known as "Fietas" Or Vrededorp (later known as Pageview), the predominantly Indian area with its colourful 14th Street Market area. The house was the only single house in that block, as the rest were old run down semi's, mostly populated by "poor whites" or welfare cases with their heaps of grubby children. I believe we paid the princely sum of R7000 for that house, with bond repayments of roughly R60-00 a month. Living in "Hangover Street" was interesting, these were the days when Johannesburg was declared a smokeless zone and coal stoves were not allowed. When milk, cream and fresh orange juice was delivered in glass bottles which were left on the front gate post. My life revolved going to school, coming home, doing homework, playing till 4 in the afternoon, supper at 5, bath at 7.30 and bed shortly thereafter. My parents did not believe in us being in the streets after dark and once my father came around the corner from the station with his safari suit and suitcase; supper would follow in short order. Our neighbours, especially those in the semi's were a dismal crowd of poor whites. Often a drunken husband with his equally haggard wife, at least 6 children, a broken down car and the welfare propping the whole shebang up. They would live from day to day, often selling the fittings from the houses to buy drink with. On Saturdays they would strip the car, re-assemble it on Sunday, and then have to start from scratch again the following week. The luckless maids and their families which lived in the yards were exploited to the fullest, the police providing a quick way to get rid of the maid that you didn't want to pay. I saw so many of these "families" come and go over the years that they never really made much of an impression, often arriving and leaving in the middle of the night. I never mixed with the children either, usually I was too old or because I spoke English, but they were like a small rugby team, thin knock kneed boys with big ears, grubby little girls carrying the family babies on their hips, stuck in a hopeless situation which often would see them perpetuating their parents lives when they reached 16.
We would put a lot of work into the house over the next 10 years, trying to cure the drainage problems, sorting out damp rot, rewiring and replumbing, painting and fiddling. My mother's pride and joy being the closed in stoep which was wonderfully warm in winter and which was more of a sitting room than the lounge was. I had my happiest moments in that house, and the area, while very run down was conveniently close to most amenities.
I would now catch a bus to school and shared a bedroom with my brother, I would also make new friends, learn to ride a bike and do so many things which I hadn't experienced previously. There would also be times of strife and tears, and questions without answers.

A New School
In Std 5 (1974) we all were given aptitude tests, and it was found that I had a more technical than academic leaning. My own "career choices" were computer programming or joining the Merchant Navy, but neither of these came to pass. The English academic high school in our area was Western High. It was a terrible school with a grim reputation, while the parallel medium technical school; Langlaagte Tech, was known as the "Donkey Tech". John Orr Tech was the other alternative but it was not within travelling distance. After much humming and haa-ing my parents enrolled me in Langlaagte Tech, the school where I would be miserable for the first 3 years. The only consolation was that I wouldn't be alone, many of my friends from EP Baumann would be coming along as well. The school, situated at the end of Langlaagte near the station, was reached by a muncipal school bus, and ran from 7.45 till 2 in the afternoon. Our uniform, was a maroon blazer and tie, with a blue shirt and grey long or short pants with black shoes. For our workshop period we had white boiler suits which we changed into and had to carry each day. We left Std 5 feeling that we were on top of the world, the seniors who everybody was supposed to look up to, we had no inkling of what lay ahead.

Std 6.2 at Langlaagte Tech

The day we arrived at "Lallas" it was evident that we were in for a hard time. The school was predominantly Afrikaans and there were no girls in it at all. The boys were tall, big-eared, strapping, no necked, rugby playing clones who made it very clear to us that they hated us because we were "Rooineks". Most of us could speak Afrikaans so were not really totally oblivious as to what went on around us. Our class was called 6.2 and there were 18 of us, there were 2 English classes and 4 Afrikaans ones. Sport played a big part of life at "Lallas", with athletics commencing on the 2nd day. I was dumped into the "Springbok" house, famous for being the losers in everything. The teachers were mostly mediocre, with our the maths teacher, Mr Henning, being the worst. He was also in charge of athletics and in later years never seemed to have a class of his own. Often we would traipse around the school looking for a class to be taught in. He also liked to teach through fear, and the first thing he said to us when we got into his class was "If there are any tigers in this class they must come forward because I kill tigers." He used to call us "Kassie" and had a mania about uniform book covering which reached ridiculous proportions. His maths class had huge drawing desks in, and most of us were shorter than the desks, and maths period became like a sentence of death. Discipline was strict, the cane ruled supreme and was used without compunction and with enjoyment. Talking in line, doing badly in class, speaking out of turn, long hair, wrong school bags, not walking in line; all were considered caneable offences, and we soon were marking stripes on our ties to prove what they were doing to us. We were also introduced to 2 new subjects, technical drawing and trade theory. The technical drawing classes were very enjoyable, inspite of having to purchase a special drawing set for the princely sum of R12.00 from the tuck shop. Fortunately not all our teachers were sadists and over the next 5 years we would discover gems who cared for and nurtured us.
In Std 6 We took the usual subjects like English, Afrikaans, Maths, Science, Biology, History, Geography, Religious Instructions, as well as Technical Drawing. We were also shifted between sub workshops, learning basic skills in plastics, metalwork, woodwork, and sheet metal work. It was a lot of work which was compounded by the constant harrassment and abuse. It just made us all closer and we presented a united front wherever possible.
In Std 7 we spent time in each of the main workshops, the worst being motor mechs which was ruled by 2 sadistic English haters, Mr De Beer and Venter who made our lives hell. The welding workshop was equally dreaded, although it was very interesting. Mr Bezuidenhout was the resident tyrant and one of the teachers I learnt to fear and avoid. Later that year we were told to choose which trade we wanted to follow, and like most of the boys in Std 8 I ended up in the electrical workshop, where "Rooibaard" ruled his domain. This teacher was a legend, reknown for terrorising boys outside of the workshops. However, he became one of our favourite teachers, guiding us through the intricacies of what is a very complex subject. In our time there we would build a battery charger, 2 and 4 pole motors as well as an arc welder. The first 3 years in this school were agony, there is no doubt in my mind that we were singled out because we were English speaking and that serious cases of abuse were rife. Many of the teachers in that school were not fit to teach and their joy at using the cane was of serious concern. It is understandable that strict discipline was required in a school where pupils did work with lethal machinery or dangerous equipment, but that excuse did not hold water when I consider how matric boys of 16 and 17 were reduced to tears of pain after being caned for failing a test. The Transvaal Education Department allowed abuse like that under the pretext of discipline, and it is shocking that the principals allowed it to happen. Parents were not really able to do anything about it either, short of moving their child to another school. In my case this was not an option and I was forced to stick it out.
In preparation for our forthcoming National Service, we had to endure a weekly session of "Cadets". Clad in our shit brown uniforms we were marched up and down like misguided missiles, totally out of step and with the only intention of getting it over with and going home. In Std 8, myself and 3 others in my class were sent for higher grade maths lessons and so cadets became just a loud noise in the background. However, cadets were a precursor or what waited us the moment we left school. Every white male in South Africa was called up to do national service. Initially it was 9 months, but by the time I reached matric it was 2 years. We registered in 1977 (which is why my army number is 77309581), and from then onwards it was just a matter of time.

Fads and fashions
It is probable that fashion from the 1960's and 70's has made a return quite a few times, and the same goes for fads. As children I expect that we were followers as well, and strangely enough many of the fads from my day are still around in another form. Yo-yo's, Dingbats, Marbles, Hula Hoops, trading cards, superhero's and karate movies will always be with us. There always seemed to be a new promotion going on at the local service stations, whether it was space race related, or sporting heroes or even airlines, we tried to collect them all. Not having a family car made things very difficult and we often had to rely on the generosity of friends or petrol pump attendants.
Clothing in its various permutations, never goes out of fashion, it just seems to slide in and out. As a family we were not rolling in money, and I often had my brother or cousins handmedowns to wear. I recall that after each term your school shoes would be worn for play and new shoes would be bought for school. Most of the children seemed to be barefoot most of the time though and in the area where I lived the school uniforms were the best clothes the children had. I loved turtle neck shirts as a boy, and really gaudy long pants. The mania for lace up flies occurred one year and I ended up in hideous orange pants with white laces at the fly. Polyester track suits in green and black were popular during winter and there was a mania for fleece lined jackets too. I know my first pair of jeans were made by "Hey Joe" and were bell bottoms which I wore with miniature platform shoes. North Stars were the preferred takkies, assuming you never had a pair of the black takkies which resembled baseball boots. My father was a firm believer in safari suits and hats, and I am sure my mother went through the crimpylene phase as well.
Oddly enough, while looking for information on the fashions of this era, I found that there was heaps of information on girls clothing and fashion, whereas for boys there was very little to be found. I expect that as boys we were not really followers of fashion, whereas our sisters were. Or maybe there was a much larger variety available for girls. In South Africa the girls still tended to gravitate to frilly dresses with long socks and bar shoes on a Sunday for church, while we would attend in our best safari suit in summer or even a miniature jacket with a clip on tie (which we always lost).

Working parents
My mother was what was known as a "housewife", I do know she did work for a period at Woolworths in Eloff Street at one point, but don't know when that was. Eventually though she had to give it up and from then on was a stay at home mum, something for which I am grateful. My father on the other hand worked his whole life at a succession of badly paying jobs. He was a shoemaker by trade and I recall worked at the Cuthberts factory which was situated in Polly Street in JHB. For a period he worked in Vereeniging and used to be home late every night following a torturous train journey which got him home long after the sun had set. The job offer he was made at Drake's Shoes in Pretoria would have seen us uprooted from our home in JHB and living in Pretoria. Unfortunately (or was it fortunately), we had already sold our house when the company burnt down and we hastily had to find a new home back in JHB.
The longest employment he had was at Advanced Laundries and Stork Napkin Services which were in Bez Valley. He would get up really early in the mornings and catch his train to Jeppe Station and then walk to the premises come hell or high water 6 days a week. Some mornings I would wake up and see the kitchen light on and go there to find him reading his book and eating his Pronutro. He would make me coffee and we would sit in silence before I would stumble off to bed to sleep for another 2 hours before heading off to school. This routine of his carried on for many years, and when I got older I would sometimes go with him to work on a Saturday morning and it was only then that I could see what a terrible routine he really had. When I was in matric (1979) he was retrenched and was fortunate enough to find a job close to home at a laundry in Fordsburg. Unfortunately, like most employers of his day he was exploited to the fullest, working long hours and weekends. By the time I went to the army he had been poached to work at a company in town again, this time at a decent salary and for somebody who appreciated what he did. But it was too late, and years of stress and overwork had taken their toll and he passed away on 7 November 1981.

Food and Drink Food and drink was much cheaper in "the good old days", whether it was healthier or not I cannot say, they never seemed to load everything with msg and other preservatives. I do know that you bought your meat at your local butchery, whole hind quarters or half a sheep at a reasonable price, today? these are budget account items. My mother, being a housewife used to cook us a full meal every night, and I recall such things as dumplings, stock fish, samp, bobotie, bean soup, ginger bear, leg of mutton, corned beef and all permutations inbetween. My father loved his Pronutro, while I preferred toast (I still do) for breakfast. Saturday afternoons was toasted sandwich day, and occasionally we would splurge out and buy 25c slap chips and viennas for the 4 of us. The red viennas, which were coloured with cochineal, cost 5c each, while the russians were a bit more expensive. The Portuguese cafe owner would invariably drown the chips in salt and vinegar and it was a race to get this smelly package home without burning your arms on the hot parcel and sneaking too many along the way. Sundays was sit down roast, always with 2 veg, spuds and gravy. This was eaten promptly at 12 midday, to the tunes of "From the Bell Tower" (The bells ring out their welcome, inviting you to spend the next half hour listening to music which is warm, comforting and uplifting). I don't recall eating pizza as a child, it was something that I read about in "Little Lotta" comics but never actually saw. I suspect the first "real" pizza I ate was when I came out of the army in 1981.
Coke has been around since I can remember, but somewhere along the line we used to get "Groovy" and "Hubbly Bubbly" as well. Pepsi never really took off in South Africa and tried many times to make inroads into the soft drink market to no avail. Fresh milk, cream and orange juice used to be delivered to your front gate in glass bottles, and the milk actually had a layer of cream on top. Butter was the all purpose spread until the price increased spectacularly and people made the swop to margarine. At first only white marge was available but then the yellow tubs became the rage and now outsell butter. Simba chips used to cost 5c , and the half litre cokes cost 25c when they came out. Perks Pies were popular as were Fray Bentos products. Many stalwarts are still around today, having used many different packaging and gimmicks to sell. All Gold is still THE tomato sauce, and Black Cat is still THE peanut butter, Redro fishpaste is still going, as are most of the teas which were available then, although they were not always in bags.

Retrospect Looking back over the years has been interesting, and in the course of writing this webpage many old and odd memories were dredged up. I lived in an age which has seen the computer go from something seen in sci-fi movies right up to the modern fast machine on my desk that was out of date 2 months after I bought it. Telecommunications have changed, our first telephone was a "cricket" style phone and our telephone number only had 6 digits (35-5451), cell phones were the thing of dreamers. Entertainment has changed too, there was no such thing as hiring DVD's, a movie was hired with a 16mm projector, special lens and 6 reels of film. The early video machines were Phillips P2000 format and they were like 8 track tapes but with pictures. Even the early camcorders were accompanied by separate video machines and battery packs. Broadcasting in South Africa has changed so much from the early state controlled single channel, now we have pay TV, satellite TV, MPEG,s AVI,s and all permutations in between. Yet, the quality of programming is stll dismal so that hasn't changed much. Radio drama died in South Africa to be replaced by rehashed bubble gum music and commercialism which is enough to drive anybody away from it. Even movies have changed, our perception of what constituted horror and violence has been tempered by too much of it on TV, the days when I used to get scared witless of simplistic black and white Dracula movies on 8mm have long gone, and blood and guts in the movies does not even trigger a response (except that of "Not more blood and guts"). Have things really gotten better? we have conquered childhood diseases that were considered fatal many years ago. We have seen the collapse of the former Soviet Union, the death of Apartheid, the conquest of space, the internet and the growth of technology, our small cloistered world has become much bigger and as much as I hate to admit it, I do like the age of knowledge and enlightenment. But, a part of me still prefers the age of innocence that I grew up in, and the wonder of making new discoveries when I was young.

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You know you grew up in South African when you remember:

• Images of "Tick-Tock Time", "Wielie Walie", "Rupert", "Liewe Heksie", "The Gummi Bears", "Pumpkin Patch" and "Haas Das Se Nuuskas" still float through your mind.
• You had to beg your parents to let you stay up to watch "Dallas", "Rich Man, Poor Man", "Magnum PI" "The World At War" and they dubbed "Sweeney Todd" into Afrikaans.
• You can name at least two people from "The Waltons" and "Little House on the Prairie".
• You used words like "shot bru" "kiff", "lekker" "safe my China", "don't tune me grief", "smaak" "wicked", "dude", "dweeb", "klap", "dop" "chow", "dos" and "my pozzie" and your girlfriend was called "chick" or "stukkie"
• You know how to do the "Moonwalk", how to "Breakdance" or how to "Rock the Baby" and "Do the Eiffel Tower" with a Yo-Yo.
• You KNOW who shot "JR" but can't remember.
• You remember the introduction of Compact Discs, and rebelled against them like our brothers and sisters born in the 50's and 60's did
• You remember Phillips P2000 video machines, Reel to Reel tape decks, 8 Track Tapes, and even recall Betamax video machines.
• You owned either a Rubik's Cube, BMX, Donky Kong Game, luminous socks, Pet Rocks, Kung-fu shoes, Atari, walkman, Ken doll, Matchbox cars (esp. "Hot Wheels") or Cabbage-Patch Kid.
• You looked cool if you sat in the sun all day and burnt yourself to a red crisp. After all, getting some sun was healthy for you.
• Beaches and picnics were the order of the day, as were braais (barbecues) next to the pool.
• You knew all of your neighbours and their kids.
• You remember how large chocolate bars actually WERE!
• You remember what R5 could buy you, viz. (i) the bus into town, (ii) a movie, (iii) a Coke and popcorn, (iv) a pie, chip roll, chips and milkshake and (v) the bus home.
• You went to the movies to watch "Star Wars", "Saturday Night Fever", "Grease", "The God's Must Be Crazy", "ET", "Annie", "Rocky III", "Superman", "Flashdance", "Beverly Hills Cop", "Ghostbusters", "Top Gun", "Dirty Dancing" and "The Naked Gun"....and Karate Kid (and all the kids would karate after they left the movie house)
• You were allowed time-off from school to watch Lady Diana marry Prince Charles. At school, you were also allowed to watch Fergie marry Andrew.
• You frequented the corner-shop because they had 'cool' games like Pinball and "Pac Man" and Rally X and Shinobi
• You remember the deaths of Princess Grace, John Lennon, Bob Marley, Karen Carpenter, Rock Hudson, the crew on the space shuttle "Challenger" and the passengers on "Pan Am 235"who died over Lockerbie in Scotland.
• You attended the Coca-Cola/Fanta Yo-Yo competitions with a view to winning a "Chopper bike" "BMX" or Coca-Cola sweatshirt.
• You remember Enid Blyton books being banned because Noddy slept with Big Ears, and this was considered too risque!
• You remember "Love Is" and "Mammals"stickers being the craze., and you bought them for 5 cents each
• You remember how cool it was to wear cut-off sweatshirts, luminous plastic bangles and Chinese attire.
• You have images of Zola Budd mistakenly tripping Mary Decker in the 1500m at the Los Angeles Olympic Games Zola Budd competed for Great Britain].
• You thought aerobics was the in-thing to do.
• You remember the pandemonium that resulted when "Scope" magazine removed the 'stars'...
• The only tekkies (sneakers) available before 1989 were "Bata" superstars plain white tennis shoes which could be miraculously cleaned with "shoe shine".
• You drank "Groovy, Hubbly Bubbly, Mellow Yellow or even Traubie Soda."
• You remember the milk-man arriving at 4am, and didn't flutter an eye-lid if the dogs barked....with the glass bottles on the stoep
• If you were a girl you went to school in a gymslip and the only concession to winter was a jersey and black tights.
• Your idea of fun was to slide down the banks on boxes, form little gangs, hold charm/marble competitions and play rounders/stingers in the street. Ever see kids doing this these days?
• You thought you were cool or a rebel if you pierced your ear (or have more than one hole per ear)
• Your idea of good food included Wimpy Burgers, Milo, Nesquick, Smurfers, Tinkies, Tempos, Smarties, Marmite, Fray Bentos, Black Cat and Pronutro.
• You listened to "Squad Cars" (they prowl the empty streets at night...) and "Taxi", "Father Dear Father" "The Mind of Tracey Dark", "The Men from the Ministry" and "The Avengers"
• LM Radio was the station to listen to for pop music, Radio 5 was not even thought of
• They decorated the streets in Johannesburg over Christmas and you went to see what the OK Bazaars building in Eloff Streets looked like and it was safe to do so.
• You shopped at "Leydens", and "The Belfast", both of which would deliver.
• The police regularly raided the yards looking for people who did not have passes, the white cops had blue uniforms and the black one had green uniforms and the railway police were called "stasie blompotte".
• The coal truck would come around selling coal for the stoves which were soon disallowed because of smokeless regulations.
• The Malibu Hotel in Durban was THE hotel to stay at.
• You went to "The Colisseum", "20th Century" or "His Majesties" bioscope on a Saturday and dressed up for the occasion.
• There was a big hole where the Carlton Centre is now.
• People actually went on holiday by train and you considered it as part of the holiday.
• Your house could set you back R10000 and you struggled to pay it off.
• Trolley buses were a familiar site in JHB, and many roads still had tram lines in them.
• We had R1 notes and a half cent piece and you could actually buy a lot with them.
• When Chappies bubble gum was 2 for a cent.
• You could sneak away to the 'soppies" and watch the same movie all day.
• The Rand Easter Show was held at Milner park and they tried to assasinate Dr Verwoerd there.
• When you flew from Johannesburg to Cape Town on a Boeing 727?
• When you drove a Zephyr, Zodiac, Anglia, Simca, or Vauxhall?
• When Springbok radio was the television? and soap was something you used in the bath!
• When we used pounds instead of rands and pounds instead of kilograms?
• When the Lonsdale Hotel was brand new? and only cost R4 per day?
• When Zimbabwe was Rhodesia and Zambia was Northern Rhodesia?
• When 50 cents filled your petrol tank?

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A few years ago, I helped write the piece below, it was in the bad days of the old South Africa, possibly around about 1992. The follow up to it called "looking to the future" was published the next month and I was looking at it today, over 5 years ago and have decided to see how true our prophecies have become. Its now 2003 and over 5 years after I looked back the first time and quite a few changes have occured there as well. These I have added in white Italics.

REMEMBER WHEN.......

It cost R692 from Cape Town to Southampton in the De Luxe accommodation on board the Edinburgh Castle, while the princely sum of R328 got you to Southampton on the SA Vaal!!!

It cost R70 to go from Cape Town to Durban and back aboard the Windsor Castle and that included two days accommodation aboard while docked in Durban. And you only earned R60 per month?

There was a mailship in port every week and it was easy to get on board for a visit.

When the Royal Navy exercised with the South African Navy?

It took ten days to unload a cargo ship?

Lourenco Marques and Beira were popular ports of call?

When the SA Seafarer ran aground off Mouille Point?

When the American aircraft carrier Franklin D. Roosevelt called at the Cape?

When Norway was France?

When you flew from Johannesburg to Cape Town on a Boeing 727?

When you drove a Zephyr, Zodiac, Anglia, Simca, or Vauxhall?

When Springbok radio was the television? and soap was something you used in the bath!

When we used pounds instead of rands and pounds instead of kilograms?

When the Lonsdale Hotel was brand new? and only cost R4 per day?

The Reina Del Mar was the only cruise ship in our waters?

When Zimbabwe was Rhodesia and Zambia was Northern Rhodesia?

When the Cape Town Castle went to the breakers?

When the Canberra was launched?

When 50 cents filled your petrol tank?

When the United States broke the record between Port Elizabeth and Cape Town?

When you could still work your passage aboard a ship.

THOSE WERE THE GOOD OLD DAYS!!!

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LOOKING TO THE FUTURE.....

It will cost over R1000 from Durban to Cape Town sharing a four berth inside cabin on any ship.
The cheapest berth on any passenger liner is in excess of R1000.00 per person. It cost us nearly R1800 per day on the Oriana in 1997
The price of a cruise has increased dramatically, with an "out to the blue" costing over R2000 per person.

The QE2 is replaced by a Masa yard creation that looks cross between Crown Princess and Sensation.
We were wrong there, the QE2 is still soldiering on with no replacement in the offing.
The replacement for the QE2 is called Queen Mary 2, she is due to enter service in January 2004. Its not known at this stage what the QE2's fate will be.

When the South African Navy scraps the Tafelberg.
The Tafelberg like so much of the South African navy exists no longer.
The navy is busy with an expansion programme which will see new vessels and submarines entering service from about 2004 onwards. 4 Meko class corvettes are currently under construction in Germany

It will be cheaper to scrap the ship than insure the cargo.
That has been a common situation for many years.
Some things never change.

When Richards Bay sees more passenger ships than Durban.
That fortunately never came to pass.
However, a new harbour is being built at Coega and whether that will become yet another white elephant is still to be seen.

When South Africa will have its own passenger ship.
In 1998 the Symphony spent a whole year in our waters and was the closest we have had to having our own ship. There was also talk of building a replica Titanic here and berthing the Canberra as a hotel ship in Durban, but neither of these came to fruition.
The Symphony was broken up in October of 2001.

When the United States finally gets broken up.
Sadly the United States much vaunted refit and rebuild came to nothing, the ship spent time in Turkey and Russia where it was supposedly stripped of asbestos, then it was returned to the USA. Its fate is not known at this time.
Amazing enough the United States finally found a buyer, NCL purchased the vessel for refurbishment and it is hoped that she will re-enter service under the American flag. Date unknown.

When The Festivale, Amerikanis, and Victoria are no longer the only remaining mail ships.
Amazingly all three are still afloat in one form or another, as is the old Windsor Castle. The Amerikanis was even being advertised as a time share at one point in South Africa.
Festivale made her last voyage, arriving at Alang in July of 2003. In 2005 the Windsor Castle was sold to the breakers and she made her final voyage under her own power. Sadly, she was the last Union-Castle Line ship afloat.

When it will be cheaper to stay at home and watch old slide shows than go to Durban to see a passenger ship.
With the price of petrol increasing every month it is getting to be a reality. Petrol now costs R2-82 a litre.
Petrol now costs over R5 a litre (June 2005) and its still cheaper to stay at home. Incidently, the exchange rate is currently around 6.89 to the $ (June 2005)

When you will drive a Beetle, Corolla, Mini or Renault because you cannot afford a new car.
The entry level car costs about R38000.00 as opposed to about R24000.00 in those days. The new Beetle will set you back R150000.00.
The entry level car is now at least R50000.00 and the new mini will set you back over R150000.00

When we will have another channel competing with the mindless drivel on TV at the moment.
We have another channel now called "etv" and now we have 4 channels of mindless drivel.
No change there, except the drivel gets worse.

When we will have to spend at least R10 on a loaf of bread.
Bread costs round about R4 per loaf, we are getting there.
Bread hasn't hit R5 a loaf yet, but prices of many commodities have increased considerably, cheese being over R38 a kg.

When the Killarney hotel becomes the only affordable hotel in Durban.
I don't think anybody would risk their lives staying in some of the grottier hotels in Durban.
Durban now has a casino, but the hotels are even worse, Cape Town is the place to go to now.

The Achille Lauro is scrapped.
The Achille was lost to fire in 1995.

When we have a ship calling every month in the harbour.
The success of the Symphony proved it can work and we have had some really amazing vessels calling and carrying passengers.
There is talk of bringing out another ship as a "time share" but so far his seems to be just talk and the ship still hasn't put in an appearence. It is certain though that the ship, tentatively called "African Princess" will flop. (This venture did flop and the ship never did arrive (2005) )

When the cost of using toll roads to Durban is more than the cost of the car!
It costs about R80.00 to traverse the 8 toll gates which punctuate the trip to Durban and back.

THESE WERE GOOD DAYS TOO!!!

And finally......

According to today's regulators and bureaucrats, those of us who were kids in the 40's, 50's, 60's, or even maybe the early 1970's probably shouldn't have survived.
Our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paint.
We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets, and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets. We used public transport and occasionally even hitchhiked, and we still came home.
As children, we would ride in cars with no seatbelts or air bags. Riding in the back of a bakkie on a warm day was always a special treat. We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle.
Horrors! We ate cupcakes, bread and butter, and drank coldrink with sugar in it, but we were never overweight because we were always outside playing.
We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this, although backwashing was frowned upon.
We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes.. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
During school holidays we would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the street lights came on. No one was able to reach us all day because we had NO CELL PHONES!!!!!
We did not have Playstations, Nintendo 64, X-Boxes, no video games at all, no satellite TV, or even public broadcast TV, no video tape movies, surround sound, personal cell phones, personal computers, or Internet chat rooms.
We had real live friends! We went outside and found them. We played dodge ball, and sometimes, the ball would really hurt. We fell out of trees, got cut and broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. They were accidents. No one was to blame but us. Remember accidents?
We had fights and punched each other and got black and blue and learned to get over it.
We made up games with sticks and tennis balls and ate worms, and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes, nor did the worms live inside us forever.
We rode bikes or walked to a friend's home and knocked on the door, or rang the bell or just walked in and talked to them.
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment.
Some of our classmates weren't as smart as others, so they failed a standard and were held back to repeat the same standard.
Tests were not adjusted for any reason. Our actions were our own. Consequences were expected. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law. Imagine that!
This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors, ever. The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.
And I'm one of them!

Author unknown.

Interesting Links.

South African Old Time Radio
Springbok Radio Downloads
The SA Rock Encylopedia
The LM Radio Museum
The Men from the Ministry in South Africa
City of Johannesburg
James Hall Museum of Transport
Autoworld
Museums Online South Africa
South African Museum of Military History
Johannesburg Zoo
Classic Cars in South Africa
Classic Fords in South Africa
©DR Walker. 2003/2004/2005