I remember very little of my early years and have no recollection of Trish arriving on the scene. However I only discovered, a few years ago, that because Mum was so ill after Trish’s delivery, I was sent away for several months to live with my paternal grandparents, Nana Win and Poppa George. Mum did tell me that I did not recognise them when I was eventually returned which devastated her.
Our early years were spent in Raeburn Avenue in what was my grandparent’s house. It was typical of the time – a semi detached with a communal driveway and long narrow garden at the back. I remember a huge oak tree on the verge but when I returned for a trip down memory lane many years later, the tree did not seem to be nearly as large as I had visualised! Our neighbours, the Chamberlains, had two boys of a similar age. I was always removing my clothes and there were often threats that some of the photographic evidence would be produced at my 21st birthday. That is probably why I left England before it could happen! Opposite our house lived Malcolm and Louise Hyde. Obviously Malcolm did not earn sufficient money to keep his family because the milkman (and others I believe) used to disappear into the house with Louise for several hours when it came time for their bills to be paid.
Very few mothers worked in those days and money was always tight. Mum seldom had new clothes but had a wealthy “friend” who took delight in selling her caste offs. Dad was always upset when Joan had been to visit with her bulging suitcases but we all thought it was fun as Mum tried on the different outfits. Had it not been for Joan I doubt Mum would have had any new clothes at all.
There was a large municipal swimming pool close to our house and we went there often in the summer. It was a 20 minute walk to the local train station which was surrounded by recreation playing fields and was known as the “rec”. In those days children could cycle there and play soccer, cricket and tennis etc. with no fear of being accosted. We walked to school from the age of 5 or 6.
We only had one dog during my childhood years – Chippy, short for chipolata sausage. We had guinea pigs too but I was allergic to them and every time I touched them I would come out with huge welts over my arms and my eyes would stream. We belonged to the local pet club who had monthly meetings. We would all take our pets along and prizes would be awarded for the best in each class. We won a prize for our guinea pig called Monty. As soon as I walked into the hall I would start sneezing and by the time the evening ended I could hardly breathe. There were always raffles too and I won my first (and only) first prize – an enormous cabbage!
My paternal grandparents used to come and spend every Christmas with us and we would travel up to London to meet them and then we would all go to a pantomime or show. We would walk down Oxford Street on the way to the theatre, looking at the brightly decorated shops. One evening I grabbed grandpa’s hand to show him something special only to find it was not grandpa’s hand but a stranger’s. I can still remember feeling so totally mortified! It’s strange how something so unimportant can affect one for so long!
Nana Win and Poppa George lived in Rustington close to the beach. The beach was covered in pebbles and when we went down to swim, we had to wear rubber slippers into the water to protect our feet. Poppa George had been a policeman but in his retirement he spent all his time in his garden where he grew the most amazing vegetables. When we eventually had our first car, fondly known as Puffing Bertha because of the difficulty she had going up hills, we used to go down to see Nana and Poppa about once a month. I was horribly car sick so was dosed up with something called avomine. Avomine could only be bought on prescription if it was to be used by a human but if Mum told the pharmacist it was for the dog, she could get it without bothering to go to the doctor first. It made me incredibly sleepy and I would sleep the whole way to Rustington (about 90 minutes), yawn my way through the day, and then sleep all the way home again! When we were with Nana and Poppa we would always go and help pick fresh vegetables for lunch and then sit and shuck the peas (eating more than we put in the bowl). I can also remember the tomatoes growing in the glass green house had so much flavour and were so sweet. Poppa loved yellow flowers because they reminded him of sunshine so the garden was full of marigolds etc. There was a putting hole in the centre of the lawn and we would spend hours trying to get a hole in one. Dad used to complain about Poppa George and get irritated with certain things he did so it highly amused me as Dad himself got older, that he became more and more like his own father. Probably something that happens to most of us!
I hardly remember my maternal grandfather, Charles Bishop because he died when I was six. He was always a remote and cold figure. However we must have been to visit because to get there we caught a bus to Kingston and got off opposite the market which was always loud, and busy. Right at the bus stop was a funeral parlour with a huge window full of angels and grave stones. I honestly believed this was heaven and was where we would all go when we died. I did think God could have chosen a quieter spot especially as the market stall holders all shouted non stop trying to sell their wares! Auntie Lottie, who was Charles’ sister, did play a role in our lives. She was a spinster and lived in Hammersmith with another lady called Auntie Mabs who was a friend from church. Lottie left school at the age of 12 but was always determined to make her own way in the world and did a number of small jobs before joining Harrods where she became the manager of the restaurant and worked there throughout the war. When she turned 100 she received a huge bouquet of flowers from Mohamed Al-Fayed the current owner. Lottie never married (although there was talk of a romance with a curate) but due to so many young men dying in the 1914 – 18 war there were a large number of spinsters in her generation. Lottie was an amazing lady and was still visiting the sick through her church well into her 80’s and 90’s and despite her fingers being completely misshapen due to arthritis; she continued to knit vests for orphan children. I doubt if any baby actually wore the vests – they were full of holes – but she never gave in. She was widely read and always had comments on the latest world situation and current state of politics. She held very strong opinions and supported “votes for women” and was active as a volunteer Red Cross nurse during the 1st world war. She held strong Christian views and often found herself at odds with the vicar or the church on some point of principle and was always convinced that she was right!
I went to Grand Avenue Primary School. I had one special friend, Philipa Wiggins who lived close by but she left to go and live in Ireland. I wasn’t a very popular child and used to steal money out of Mum’s handbag to buy chocolate to give to some of the other girls hoping to buy their friendship. It was while at Grand Avenue that I fell and knocked out both my front teeth and was rushed to hospital. When Dad came and saw me he burst into tears because I looked so awful. The only other time I remember him crying when I was a child was during Winston Churchill’s funeral. In later years, of course, he cried frequently! My “gappy” smile made me very self conscious and had it been left to the National Health Service, I would have had to wait until I was 16 before I was eligible for a crown. As it was Dad paid private dental fees but I still lived without a front tooth for about 5 years. Otherwise I don’t have many memories of primary school except that I was always being told that unless I pulled up my socks and did better, Trish would pass and I would fail. This did nothing to make me love my sister more but did spur me on to pass the Eleven Plus and gain me entrance to Wimbledon County Grammar School. In fact it would have been better had I failed because I hated all the Latin, physics and chemistry etc. which were on the syllabus and would have been far happier at the less academic secondary modern where I could have taken typing, shorthand and bookkeeping. There were normally three classes in each grade in the high school but because I was born during a boom post war year, we had an extra class (the lowest of the low students as we were frequently told) and I was always in this class called 1X, 2X etc. I honestly hated every second of my time there and could not wait to leave immediately after taking my final GCSE at the age of just over 16.
While we lived in Raeburn Avenue we had a great friend, Tricia Carpenter, who lived next door but one. She lived in a larger house than ours with her two brothers and very elderly parents (or so they seemed to me then). We spent hours and hours making hobby horses which we then rode over complicated jumps we created in Tricia’s garden and had our own gymkhanas. I was also a Brownie and later a Girl Guide and went to camp every year. Mum and Dad used to go away for a week on their own and Nana and Poppa would come to look after Trish and me. I can still see Mum and Dad walking back from the bus stop, hand in hand, brown and looking happy after their break away. It was during these years that Auntie Alice, who had brought up Mum, moved in with us as she was going senile. That was a terrible time as Alice would accuse us all of taking her money and she would get up at night, put on all her clothes (including 6 pairs of bloomers) and go out into the street and try to run away. Eventually she had to go into a home and at one she was treated roughly and ended up with bruises on her arms and Mum, who felt so guilty about leaving her, had a breakdown from the stress.
Dad was always known as a strict disciplinarian and half the neighbourhood children were scared of him because their parents would warn them that unless they behaved they would be sent to Uncle Tony! One vivid memory is when I was accused of engraving my name on the newly painted window sill in the lounge. I was most definitely not responsible but as the perpetrator had even written the “J” the wrong way round (as I did) I was accused and no amount of crying would make Dad see anything other than my guilt. It was years and years later, when we were both adults, that Trish admitted it had been her. I have never quite forgiven her for it either!
According to my Mother, my Father was quite normal when he went away to war but returned a complete tidiness freak. Despite the house being small, we hardly used the formal lounge and days would go by with no-one going into it. However Dad had to go in and check it every evening when he returned from work and ensure the cushions were plumped. We had to tidy up all our toys before he returned home and I can remember how distressed he would get when Trish, as a teenager, came home for the weekend from Physio College and did her washing. To ensure it would be dry before she left to go back on Sunday night, she would drape it all over the central heating radiators and Dad would rant and rave about having to live in an “east end tenement slum”.
I cannot remember in what year but we moved to Elgar Avenue where we had a larger house with an extra bedroom. We managed family holidays to Devon and Cornwall for two weeks each year and surfed using heavy wooden surf boards. We had a spending allowance which covered two Cornish ice creams a day. We could eat them both in the morning if we wanted to but then that was it for the day and you went without in the afternoon! We usually went for one knickerbocker glory too. These were enormous concoctions made with jelly, fruit and ice cream. We always stayed in family hotels which included all meals so Mum had a complete break. I shall never forget the one night when we were given whitebait. I took one look at these tiny fish, heads, eyes etc. all still on and being unable to take a single bite. Dad said that as I had ordered them I had to eat them or go hungry. I ended up leaving the table in tears and had no supper! One of the nicest hotels we stayed at was Treharock Manor. There were peacocks wandering around and we would try and collect the males’ tail feathers. They served afternoon tea at 4 p.m. and if we were back from the beach in time, we could indulge in tiny iced cakes. Neighbours, Peggy and Chris Nightingale and their boys, Roger and Christopher, joined us on several of these holidays and we would all leave at the crack of dawn and have picnic breakfasts en route. It took 8 hours or more to get there in those days – no freeways and motorways then!
Unlike Sammy and Matthew, I cannot remember ever going for a “sleep over” as a child and we certainly did not go out for supper or have “take aways”. Mum and Dad played table tennis once a week at the local church hall but otherwise were always around. As a young teenager, our social life revolved around the church youth club. We lived close to both a Congregational and an Anglican church and, depending on which one had the best looking boys, that would be the one I went to on a Sunday. I remember fancying a guy called Alan. He was probably 20 to my 14 and he had his own car which he washed every Saturday morning. I therefore walked to Tolworth shops (which was quite a long way) every single weekend in the hope of seeing him cleaning the car so I could stop and chat. He took me on my first ever date to see Gigi and I thought I was in heaven.
I had a Saturday morning and holiday job at Canning’s Book Shop which I enjoyed – mainly because it was where I met Richard and fell in love for the first time! We joined the Thames Ditton Rowing Club and spent most weekends there. Richard rowed and I punted and we had great fun at the dances that were held nearly every weekend at one of the rowing clubs along the Thames. There were regular regattas and a wonderful camaraderie. The Henley Regatta was the most special event in the year and everyone dressed to the nines.
After 3 years Richard and I broke up and I then started dating Les who was considerably older than I was. He was devoted to his mother and always the perfect gentleman (I am now pretty sure he was gay!) Les worked for Soldier Magazine as a professional photographer and therefore travelled widely visiting troops all over the world. He was a keen sailor and we often went to the Isle of White with his housemate and his girlfriend who was also much younger. Ingrid and I had a lot of fun on these weekends. Ingrid’s mother owned a bakery where they made the most delectable things and I started working there on a Saturday morning to make some extra cash. It also meant I was given huge boxes of left over Danish pastries when the shop closed at 1 pm. No Sunday trading in those days.
I started work Shell International in September 1963. I had applied to BP, Shell International and the Bank of England. My first ever interview at BP was a disaster. I walked in the door, wearing a large hat and looking terribly smart only to trip and fall over, loosing the hat in the process. If only the floor could have swallowed me up! I was not offered a job but succeeded at both Shell International and the Bank. (I refused to wear the hat at those interviews even though it was “the done thing” in those days!) Dad wanted me to join the bank but the Shell offices were right next to Waterloo Station and they had fantastic canteen facilities, a swimming pool etc. etc. so I joined their training scheme. We were sent to secretarial college in the mornings where a ghastly man called Mr. Thorrell would bully us into typing efficiently. He used to tie my thumbs together and hit me on the head if I did not keep my elbows firmly in – what difference that made to the accuracy of my typing I will never know. In the afternoons we were given a variety of clerical jobs to do in various departments. Once we had completed the six months at college we were put into typing pools where we sat, all day, bashing away at manual typewriters. Every letter had at least 5 copies and therefore if you made a mistake you had to rub out each copy and type in the correct letter. Thankfully I proved to be an excellent typist and was promoted rapidly to the Training Department. This was a vast improvement except for my boss who insisted on being called Colonel Chorley as he was an ex soldier. He had a reputation for being a mean, nasty man and lived up to it. However I loved meeting all the people from Shell offices across the globe that all came to London for training courses and it was while at Shell that I decided to travel to South Africa.
In those days South Africa wanted young white people so offered incredibly cheap fares. I originally planned to come out alone but then a friend at Shell, Val, decided to join me as she had just ended a traumatic relationship. We paid 60 pounds for the two week boat trip and were accommodated in a hotel when we first arrived. The government really wanted us to go to Johannesburg but agreed to a one week trial in Cape Town. We both had introductions to Shell in Greenmarket Square but sadly they only had one position available which Val was given because she had shorthand and I didn’t. The boat trip was wonderful and we had a fabulous time and, of course, I met Ivor at the ballroom dancing classes.
For several months before leaving from Southampton, I worked in a coffee shop close to Surbiton Station in order to earn some extra money. I was working at Shell all day and as a waitress four or five nights a week. It was exhausting as I seldom got home before midnight but it was the only way to build up some funds for the trip to SA. Not only did I earn a few pounds but we received a meal which cut down on my expenses. However it was a pathetic place for tips. Most of the patrons just walked out leaving nothing! After many years of always being in a London branch of the bank, Mum and Dad were moved around as he gained managerial status so I had, by this time, left home and was living in a bed sitter quite close to Surbiton Station. It was quite a nice large room and I shared the kitchen and bathroom with one other girl. However one had to feed the gas fire with shillings and there were many nights when I got into bed rather than spend my precious coins. It also made me appreciate just how expensive it was to become independent and to live away from home when one suddenly had to buy washing powder and toothpaste and other essentials that had always been provided before!
Val and I met Ivor and his two cabin mates early in the cruise. The one guy was a Jewish lawyer, Ivor was returning from the big “overseas experience” after graduating but it was other fellow (whose name completely escapes me!) who was the one who I fancied most. However on the first Sunday of our 14 day voyage on the Pendennis Castle, the object of my desire turned up wearing a clerical collar and turned out to be an Anglican minister. My interest waned very quickly! The daily ballroom dancing lessons were very popular amongst the younger passengers because it was a good way to meet people. Sadly for Ivor he had absolutely no rhythm at all and was probably the one and only person who has ever been thrown out of Arthur Murray Dance Studio because they said he was unteachable. I knew none of this when I partnered him but it soon became clear and everyone else avoided him so I felt obliged to remain his sole dancing partner! When we arrived in Cape Town he kept in touch and the rest, as they say, is history!
I had been seeing Ivor for several months before he introduced me to his parents. Several people I worked with were concerned about this as they warned me he must have skeletons in the closet (meaning his parents might be black or a darker shade of white than was deemed suitable!) In fact my first meeting was doomed from the start. I was invited to go with them for a weekend to see more of the country. I had to sleep over at the flat in Rusdon Park so we could leave very early the next morning. Ivor was nowhere to be seen when I arrived and knocked on the front door! I received a decidedly chilly reception from Doris who obviously did not think much of this British female who was after her precious son! I was given a bed in the lounge that night but got absolutely no sleep whatsoever because the damn antique clock chimed every fifteen minutes and the trains ran on the railway line directly outside the flat for most of the night. We eventually departed on the big trek and, of course, I completely wrecked things by falling asleep in the car instead of admiring the scenery. Ever since those childhood years when I was so car sick, I automatically fall asleep when a passenger in a car. It did not go down well!
Val and I started off in a very smart flat in Mimosa Court, Sea Point. It had no view but was clean and comfortable. However although Val earned a reasonable salary at Shell (R150 a month) I could only get a casual job with the 1820 Settler’s Association at the princely salary of R90 a month. I took it to avoid being shipped off to Johannesburg and was with them for three months or so before getting a job at The Cape Times in the classified section. This was a nightmare as I sat the whole day taking down death notices over the telephone. If we received a death notice from someone other than an official funeral parlour, we had to phone the person back to make sure it was not a prank call which frequently upset the newly bereaved family. All the funeral directors were Afrikaans and I could not understand what they were saying let alone spell the Afrikaans surnames and I hated ever second of my time there. Thankfully I found a job at Protea Assurance Company and began to earn R120 a month but the first month’s salary had to go to the agency who found me the job. In those days it was the employee who paid the commission and not the employing company.
We found we could not afford the Mimosa Court rent and then Val’s boyfriend decided he could not live without her and came to South Africa to ask her to marry him. We moved to a ghastly but larger flat in a cheaper area of Sea Point over a fish and chip shop. There were cockroaches running around and I was permanently covered in bites which the doctor put down to a flea allergy. It was only when I woke up one night itching and turned on the light that I discovered I was covered in bed bugs. We had the whole place fumigated but I never slept comfortably again!
Ivor eventually asked me to marry him but sadly I don’t remember it as a very memorable romantic occasion. (Mike did not go down on one knee either so I am doomed to never having romance in my proposals!!) When we went to tell Doris and Lambert we got a strange reception. Doris immediately said “I’ll be dead before you get down the aisle (she was always sick with something!) and Lambert said “You must be a bloody fool to get married!” A great way to make me feel wanted and appreciated! I had no family to support me with wedding plans and every suggestion I made was squashed by the Myburghs. I should have been stronger because I was paying the whole bill out of the 200 pounds Dad had sent but I’m afraid I let them trample all over me. Mum and Dad did not come to the wedding, a decision Mum never got over so when Trish married in Canada several years later, they were there to see it. As it turned out I hardly knew any of the guests at our reception – there were a few work mates of mine but otherwise they were distant Myburgh relations and most of them I never met again! I was living with Jill and Derry Fitnum for three months before the wedding because Val and John had returned to the UK. Mickie Stekhoven was to have been best man and Derry was to have given me away. However Mickie went down with jaundice just before the wedding and everything had to change. Dear tactful Penny came round the night before and informed me that “Mickie says you’re nothing to look at but will be a good wife for Ivor”!!! What a way to make a girl feel special!
We spent the first night of our honeymoon at Houw Hoek Inn near Hermanus and then went on to the Wilderness where I remember confetti falling out of my pockets when I jumped on a trampoline. We then went on and spent two nights with Don and Rosemary Zillen and their brand new baby Di, on the Orange River Dam where Don was working. Rosemary was up most of the night with Di who was less than six weeks old, and I was up most of the night vomiting. By the time we had driven back to Cape Town I was seriously ill and could hardly walk. It turned out I had caught Mickie’s jaundice. I could not return to work for several weeks and I have to say that those first few months of marriage were a nightmare. I felt dreadful but Doris would continuously ask me if I was making Ivor proper meals. I could hardly stagger out of bed but yes, I did somehow manage to give him a cooked dinner every night. Why she could not have taken over I do not know!
We were married in August 1969 but our main honeymoon was to be a trip to the UK for Christmas so that Ivor could meet all the family. It was a bit late for him to change his mind but in any case everyone made him feel welcome (lucky chap!!) We went over by sea and flew back and by then I was pregnant with Graeme who was conceived in England. I worked until I was 7 months pregnant which, in those days, was when you had to stop working, but I hated being in the flat all day with no company and my boss was happy to take me back on a day to day basis. The fashion was mini skirts and I had a very large belly so he would leave the office when it came time for me to do the filing – I think the sight was just too much for him! I eventually stopped working the day before Graeme was born.
We originally lived in a flat at Devonshire Hill which was very small but Ivor had his work table on one side of the bed and I had my sewing machine on the other side and we would work amicably together on our hobbies. He was always building a new steam train but in those days they were tiny models that ran on methylated spirits not coal. We managed to get a larger flat at Dennekamp which we moved into just before Graeme was born. We had no washing machine, I could not drive and there were no other children anywhere to be seen! Officially one could not ban people with children from renting but that is what happened. However no-one had realised I was pregnant when we first saw the flat.
Graeme was born on the 29th September 1970 and I was the proudest mother and he was the best looking baby in the ward (by far!) There was another girl in the labour ward with me and we were neck and neck until she developed complications and her little boy, Nicholas, was eventually delivered with a totally misshapen head and very badly bruised from all the instruments. Graeme, in comparison, looked like a caesarean baby with a perfectly shaped head, and perfect skin. Lambert, who was not a man for compliments and never gave me the impression he thought much of me, was enraptured and visited every single day I was in the hospital. I think producing Graeme and Jo were the only things I ever did right in his eyes!
Lambert came to visit on an almost daily basis and certainly, once I was pregnant again with Jo, he would come and take Graeme down to Muizenberg to walk on the beach. I took Graeme to England when he was 6 months old to visit my folks. Mum had been very ill but having us around cheered her no end. Ivor missed us so much that he flew to Johannesburg to meet us when we came home! Graeme was miserable the whole flight home and cried and cried. However we landed to find he had cut three teeth during those 12 hours so had a justifiable reason for being such a horror!
Mum came out to look after Graeme when Jo was due. In those days younger children were not allowed in the nursing home so mothers disappeared for a week and then arrived back with another baby. Graeme was always incredibly gentle with Jo but caused havoc every time I fed her and once managed to empty an entire box of washing powder all around the flat while I was busy with her. Jo was far more battered and bruised but the doctor immediately said “this one can only get better” and he was right and within a few weeks my little girl was also beautiful with a mop of dark hair. I was thrilled with my pigeon pair.
Life in the flat with two children was anything but fun. I could drive by this time so tried to go out nearly every afternoon to friends with a garden. Therefore moving into Bertram Crescent was fantastic. We only saw the house once before moving and I stood and wept when we finally got occupation because it was filthy and the previous owners had literally hundreds of pictures so there were nails everywhere and marks all over the walls. However the garden made up for it and the kids finally had somewhere to play and they could make a noise.
I enjoyed the years that Jo and Graeme were at nursery school and school and helped out with fund raising, tuck shop duties and I spent many hours making things for the annual fete at Oakhurst. The only traumatic time was when Jo was ill and spent a month in hospital with her legs in traction. Mothers could not stay with their children and visiting hours had to be strictly adhered to and I would leave the ward twice a day and weep outside. She was so incredibly brave and certainly learnt to stand up for herself and arrived home a much more determined little girl who no longer allowed her big brother to make all the decisions!
Most weekends were spent at the Model Engineering Club where we had many braais and Jo and Graeme rode on the steam trains. Ivor had progressed to large trains once we moved into the house and his workshop became bigger and bigger and the playroom was taken over by heavy industrial machinery!
I also have fond memories of our annual holiday to Eight Bells and how the kids loved the pony rides and going on the cart. One year poor Jo had to go with a broken collar bone. She was still all strapped up and in a lot of pain so could not participate in many of the activities but she found a kitten and fell in love so we had to bring Tinkerbell home. Oh the sadness when she was run over and the other awful day (our wedding anniversary) when we found Tina had terrified the guinea pigs and they had all died of shock!
At least once every year Ivor and Lambert would take Graeme on a camping trip near Hermanus where Graeme caught his first fish. Jo always felt very left out as she was never included in these boys’ outings. However she was allowed to go to the Marine Hotel, with Lambert and Doris, where they were spoilt rotten by everyone. Oh how I worried about Lambert’s driving and I was always so relieved to see them safely home again! The last holiday we took as a family was to Mauritius. The hotel was not a good choice for teenagers but I still think we had a good time except for the special night boat trip on Graeme’s 18th birthday when he spent the whole evening getting greener and then being sick. Not what we had intended at all!! We also had some great breaks with the Rusconi’s. Pringle Bay was one such place where the children slept up in the attic with all the kids and the dog drank out of the toilet so we had to flush the loo every time someone used it, day and night! I think the dog was Helga in those days and she would rush from one child to another on the beach trying to keep watch over all of them.
I managed to find a part time job in the physiotherapy department at UCT when Jo started in Grade 1 at school (today’s Grade 3). I enjoyed having some money of my own and decided to try and study bookkeeping through correspondence course. What a disaster. I could not understand anything in the manuals and there was no-one to ask so soon gave up. However I then found a local college where there was hand’s on tuition and there I thrived, completing the year long course in 3 months. I joined Klockner-Moeller as soon as I had qualified and remained there for almost 14 years.
Obviously Mum and Dad’s bi annual holiday visits were a highlight of our lives so their arrival in South Africa, as permanent residents, caused great excitement and they settled very quickly. Dad played bowls as often as he could and soon became involved in an annual fund raising event for the club which he organised for many years. Mum found it more difficult to settle but she loved having the family so close by and Graeme and Jo would pop in to visit which made it all worth while. Sunday lunches were regular occurrences – the best roast potatoes and the worst lumpy custard but we all have fond memories of it!
It was a very difficult time when Doris and Lambert had to go into residential care as they were totally unable to care for themselves. After Doris died we tried having Lambert live with us with a nurse aide to assist but it was a disaster and he had to go back to the nursing home. He died within 3 months and soon afterwards Ivor decided to retire having hated his job from the earliest days. Unfortunately we had the trauma of the “court case” when Aunt Louie sued Ivor and the children for all the money we owned in the world and then much more for something she said Lambert had done illegally when he managed her money. I can still remember when the summons was delivered by hand. It came very late at night and my heart literally dropped into my stomach when the details were read out and we realised the implications. Ivor never got over it and the next few years were unbelievably stressful and tense.
Graeme and Jo grew up and Graeme went to university and Jo went travelling overseas. How I wept for three solid days when she left. I lived for the postman and rushed out every day in the hope that there would be a letter. I would then type them out and circulate copies to anyone who was interested. How must easier it is today with the internet and skype but then it was really hard to have one’s precious child go off into the unknown.
Almost immediately after Jo left, Ivor and I went on a steam train trip up the Garden Route and also had a wonderful holiday in the Transvaal which included a visit to Sun City and a trip on the Blue Train. Another holiday which remains clear in my memory bank was the 6 week trip from England and through Europe in a motorised home with Jocelyn and Hugo. It started badly when we discovered Ivor’s driving licence had been left behind so he could not share in the driving and then I ended up in hospital in Spain having suffered a massive haemorrhage. I was seriously ill and really only wanted to come home but we had to carry on. It was definitely not the best holiday of our lives for more than one reason!
Other special holidays were to Canada. Mum and I went together on one occasion and then I went again and Trish and I went on a two week cruise to Alaska. The picture perfect blue skies and crystal clear waters were nowhere to be seen but we had a wonderful time despite the rain and I particularly treasure one photo of Trish and I in plastic rain hoods as we went exploring. How our daughters would have hated our appearance and would definitely have disowned us both!
Barbara and I had a great holiday in Greece, there was a trip to Namibia with Wilga and Norman and, of course, Mike and I have had some wonderful holidays too to Switzerland, Croatia etc. as well as special times in England, especially in Cambridge when Graeme was living there, Australia and New Zealand..
Ivor and I bought a flat at Melkboss and had great fun getting all the furnishings etc. and we spent some very happy weekends there. Ivor would go down on a Friday morning and I would join him when I finished work and we would then return home on a Monday. Meg, our dog adored chasing the birds on the beach and would return utterly exhausted after racing up and down for hours on end.
I prefer not to remember the years when Mum’s health deteriorated and then Dad had to join her in frail care. I prefer to remember the vibrant people they were and the swims we had at Muizenberg and the fun at Boulders Beach when they came over on holidays before moving here permanently. Dad embarrassed me to the day he died with his constant flirting and as a teenager I wanted to crawl into a corner and pretend he was nothing to do with me but my friends all remember him with such affection and loved him making cheeky remarks so obviously I was the one with the problem and not Dad!
The year Ivor died is also one I prefer not to reflect on. I’d rather remember the good times we had and the joy Graeme and Joanne brought to our lives. How Ivor would have loved spending time with Sammy and Matthew and I am sure they would have loved going to the model engineering club to ride on the trains as much as Graeme and Joanne did. Thankfully I now have Mike in my life. I can still remember meeting him for the first time almost 40 years ago when he arrived with Heather and Kim at our flat in Wynberg. I was still breastfeeding so Graeme could not have been more than 6 weeks old. Heather and I were pregnant together a year later but sadly her baby was still born and it must have been devastating for her when all her friends produced healthy infants.
There are so many other memories- Joanne and Antony’s wedding only a year after Ivor died. Dad was so proud to walk her down the aisle and we all sat praying he would not fall flat on his face as his balance was very poor. Next was Graeme and Ally’s wedding and then the 8th February 2002 when I married Mike. Mum was already very frail but to see her face when we walked in was unbelievably special and poor Jo Tyers had to pinch herself to stop herself crying. It’s hardly done for the vicar to weep during the service! Her arm was black and blue for days afterwards!
And then my beloved Samantha was born followed by Matthew. What joy and delight they have brought to our lives. Hopefully there will be many more years left to create more memories that can be added to this.
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