Who remembers catching the bus to and from work? Years ago (I mean Yeeeeeeaaaaaars – a – go, waaaaaay before I met Gary) my bestie Alex and I moved to Cape Town. We lived in Camps Bay, I cannot remember the exact why and how besides the fact I clearly didn’t have a car – otherwise I wouldn’t have been bussing it would I? I do recall – yip I am a little embarrassed to admit this, but I didn’t have my license back then so never mind not having a car. (It seems I was and maybe continue to be a late bloomer in a lot of ways hey?) Anyhow that was a huge digress so as I was saying I would catch the bus. First and foremost, in the winter it was the bleakest. At 6.45am I would be at the bus stop, with passing cars splooshing water on my feet from the incessant rains. (We all know a Cape winter). Ohhhh my giddy aunt! So, I would catch the bus and I recall maybe it was the first time, gosh it must have been the first time, as surely I would have known where the heck to get off. So let’s assume it was the first time, I caught the bus home and didn’t I get off at the wrong blady stop! Shucks and it was another blady planet away from where we lived. Those were the days I need to add when we all trusted one another, yip we even trusted strangers. When one saw a bleak, rain-soaked young lady walking forlornly along the darkening road (remember it’s a Cape Winter and so the sun is gone by just after 4ish) and so this very kind lady picked up this forlorn lost soul and dropped her off at her address, which as I mentioned was another planet away from where she got off the blady bus!! I recall the road was called Helly Hutchinson …or something like that.
With my first job I would also traverse by bus. Dad would drop me off in the mornings. He had a little electric shop in Mark Lane, I would catch a lift and walk from there to my office. In the afternoons (I have no idea why I didn’t come home with dad?) But I would catch the bus from Field Street. It was the same people every day, it was amazing as it was the same driver every day too. I recall if any of your fellow passengers were late we would holler to the driver “Wait here he/she comes now” as the person raced after the bus and he would wait. If they weren’t there for a couple of days, we would be so concerned and delighted when they returned from wherever they had been. Remember these were before we all clutched onto our cellular devices, we couldn’t whats app them to find out where/how they were. My word how life has changed hey? I met my flatmate Belinda on the bus – she was one of the regulars on our bus from town to Durban North. Each afternoon she would sit right at the back and knit. It was a bright game pink almost fisherman style jersey, well I believe that was her intention, I don’t recall her ever actually wearing the completed luminous pink jersey. Hmm I must ask her. Belinda, she is a story for another day.
I am pondering to myself now, there are many reasons I am loving my BLOG, the memories that I awaken each week being one, as I was washing my dishes now and thinking back who recalls travelling on the double decker busses? Clipping your ticket and racing up those very steep and narrow stairs to the top deck. Sitting right in the front so you could see ahead of the bus driver. There was a time I experienced a variety of reoccurring nightmares about the bus. Missing my bus, I recall the panic as I would see the bus driving away, another dream was I didn’t know which was my stop. They were truly real and panicky dreams. Weird hey? Interesting actually the interpretation of our dreams. Why we dream? Why some of the dreams are so vivid, and reoccurring? And then there are those that say they don’t dream. Ok, before I drift off into Dreamland, let me catch this and continue with the Alex Agendas.
Alex and I met at Umhlanga Sands, remember I mentioned previously how Charmaine and I would pretend we had been there. Describing how to find ones’ way to the actual disco etc., and how the girls in housecraft (home economics) caught us out as it was nowhere near what we had described, because in fact we had never been! So, now this time, I was really there. In fact, so were Charmaine and I in later years (She met her hubby at Coco de Mere). Anyhow so yip Alex and I – oh my word did her and I “jol” up a storm! How the hell we both survived those years, God alone knows. It’s amazing that I am actually writing about “those” years. That I even recall those years!!! (considering all the wine we used to consume). Shucks one of the things that I will always remember is how beautiful Alex was, and still is. She is beautiful inside and out and she is a fellow Taurean. Not that I am a firm believer in star signs. Actually I don’t even know why I added this bit in? We truly clicked and had the best fun ever. Not all was innocent mind you, we were rather naughty and sometimes I hate to admit a tad bit too wild. When I look back on those days it was the kind of wild that I thank God I was blessed with sons and not daughters! And in fact, we were definitely blessed with angels that looked after us. I am sure we were “cats” actually and between the two of us we used up way more than nine lives (sigh sigh). One life I recall so clearly. The night of the Magoo’s bombing. Alex and I were at Tall Ships at the Elangeni in Durban when we decided we would venture off to Umhlanga. My cousin owned a restaurant, he was (still is) fairly brilliant in his field and his restaurant was really an amazing place and also a place to be seen. So, this night on a whim (thank goodness) we decided Tall ships wasn’t for us, and off we beetled to my cousin. That night was no different to all previous nights, we partied up and storm when it was time to head home (translated: when we had consumed way too many vino’s) we headed on home. As I have mentioned I didn’t drive, so Alex was always the designated driver – yikes the state she drove us in. I shudder to think how many times we tempted fate. I recall, there were so few roadblocks I think they would only be set up during the festive season. I do recall the one night, for some bizarre reason we hadn’t been consuming any alcoholic “refreshers” (last thing that booze does is refresh one) and we were so chuffed about this that we purposely drove to and through a roadblock. Our fellow road users were hyper ventilating as they realized what the stop and start was about. Not Alex and Dizabeth – we proudly ticked all the boxes, seat belts: – check, license disk: – check, tyres: – check, sober : check Check! . All was good to go and there we were, eagerly awaiting the traffic cop. What a difference it must have made for Alex especially I know to this day, I am totally “good to go” license disk in order, seat belt on – and you see a traffic officer and you immediately break out into a sweat. Drop your cell phone that you
weren’t even talking on, turn the music down, and your radio wasn’t even on. What is it about a traffic officer? The thing is I reckon they know it, bet they wake up and say, “Honey I am leaving for the day, going to scare the bageebees out of the law-abiding drivers again”. Anyhow, back to the night of the Magoo’s bombing. So, we decided to head home and as I occasionally did, I slept over at Alex. Well, the next morning when we finally awoke from our drunken slumber I headed home. My mom and dad literally went ballistic. Having my own kids now, I have lived that terror and worry a thousand times. In fact, I will never forget my dad saying one night that I would never appreciate the worry until I had kids of my own. Of that he was 1000% correct. Anyhow, so I walked into the house and my parents went ballistic. That night two woman had died in the bombing. I am ashamed to admit this, but it never crossed either of our minds to phone our loved ones and tell them we were fine. We didn’t even think about finding a ticky box and making that call, I am ashamed to admit. I never went home, obviously my parents had assumed the worst. Anyhow, I remember I was horrified when right there and then, once they had hugged me and told me never to ever, ever to do that again, my mom proceeded to gate me. Yip dear reader. She did in fact gate me. I was horrified, but you know as I am typing this for the first time ever, I so, so, so can relate to her. I remember when Chad was in Uni he came home for the mid-year break and did exactly that. Went out but never came home. Now as much as you try reassure yourself that all is good, its natural (well for me!) to always think the worst. So, when I woke at 2amish and realised he wasn’t home I tossed and turned for the rest of the night. At around 8amish I was in my office (remember I work from home – yip lucky me) anyhow, I heard him arrive. He called out “Howzit Ma, where are you?” I replied “I am in my office give me a minute I am calling off the search party!” he laughed and explained, being in Uni and so actually living his own life, playing now by his own rules, when out it didn’t cross his mind that I may be worried as back home (Uni) he didn’t have to worry about anyone waiting for him to return. I guess it made sense but sjoe always a hard one for a mama bear. (You were right dad – you were right). Oh my word, talking coming home “late”. I recall a time, I was SO, SO, SO, SO, SO in love with this guy Colin. The one night we stayed out all night. Swear we truly didn’t do any of the things you may be thinking you could do when you out all night (ja ja – don’t deny you were thinking that!) so he dropped me off at 6amish. Now I knew my mom, she would be up already, probably on her 2nd or 3rd glass of “water” and probably in her reading chair reading about gods that go clickerty clack. So, I tried very hard to convince Colin all would be good and he really, really didn’t need to walk me to the blady front door. But nope he insisted. So, there I was playing it ever so cool putting my front door key in the keyhole and it not opening, so I casually try again. But by now I have realised this is my mom’s doing, and as I am thinking how the frik am I gonna get him to leave – and leave now – when BAM … The front door swings open and there stands my mom. Colin being the gentleman he is starts apologising to my mom for bringing me home so late. Well, my mom literally spat back at him “So late, so late! This isn’t late, this is early!!!!” oh my word I literally prayed for the earth to part and let me fall into a deep black hole. It didn’t.
Sjoe, I really am jumping all over the place this week aren’t I. So,on the subject of being a major party animal and still living at home. I recall the day Alex and I went out Friday night, then the Saturday afternoon we went to a little pub under the stairs, at the Royal Hotel. This particular afternoon we partied up a storm with the idea to go home, freshen up and go out again. I do recall whilst we were at this pub planning the night ahead, that I really wasn’t feeling that great and was a bit unsure if I would even make it to getting home to freshen up, never mind partying further that night. What I do recall, oh my frikken word, this was the worst!!! Our telephone was on those – do you remember the telephone table? Well, ours was in the entrance hall, and the entrance hall led into the lounge, and in the lounge on a casual Saturday night, mom and dad sat in their usual chairs and watched television. This night was no different except for the fact that I was not a tad but a whole lot drunk. Yip told you before I do love my wine and in those days (tsk tsk!)– well let’s leave it at that. I am typing thinking sjoe Dizabeth should we even share this horrendous story? But since I have got this far, I guess I cannot leave my dear readers in suspense as to what transpired that ordinary Saturday night whilst my folks sat watching television. So here we go. Brace yourselves. I was lying on my bed on my own fair ground, I was on the spinning wheel otherwise known as a bed. My mom hollered through that Alex was on the phone for me. I literally came staggering through, sat down and on and on Alex went about where we were going. I felt as if I was at sea, on a ship being tossed across the ocean. (If you have ever experienced sea-sickness you are sure to appreciate just how bad I felt). Next thing I can feel the pit of my stomach tornado-ing up, up and over! There I was being sick. I swear it was terrible, and all I recall from that was hearing Alex cackling like a drake – oh my word it was so bad. Imagine how awesome I felt having to clean up after! Agh. But did I learn from that occasion? From consuming way too much on a Saturday afternoon. Indeed, I did not! As far as my memory serves mom didn’t say a word, neither did dad that night – or ever.
Whilst I am throwing myself under the bus so, so badly, I may as well share with you the time Alex and I – we were with friends’ and they had dagga. We decided to give it a try. Oh my word, didn’t I soon enough feel like I was once again at sea shucks I recall feeling dreadful. I crawled under the table and slept only to awaken with the most enormous hunger sometime later. Little did I know, in later years, when I was a mama bear (and a fairly responsible adult) because I was in advertising, we were blessed that we would receive complimentary tickets to everything and I mean everything. This occasion it was to see UB40 live at the old rugby stadium. It was clearly packed and somewhere in the crowd close to us (in fact they were sitting behind us) there was a crowd smoking weed which as we all know (no come on, don’t act like you don’t know the scent of weed being smoked).
And didn’t I throw a wobbly of note. Which blew up in my face. The crowd I was with literally wanted to die with embarrassment, when Fuddy Duddy me started complaining about the stench of the weed and them smoking it. Remember back in the day it was illegal. I at one stage even threatened them with me calling the police to which one replied “okay cool lets go find them I will come with you.” Now Obviously I wasn’t really going to call the police, I was using scare tactics which clearly didn’t work.
Then there was the time I came home inebriated (yes one of many times) it “could”have been yet another afternoon of copious amount of liquor, not too sure – hahahahaha. It was evening and I was starving, as one is when one has consumed copious amounts without eating. Dad was once again in the lounge watching television. I decided to do a quick sticks meal – didn’t I put an egg in the microwave to boil. No jokes I did, and obviously it did what any egg still in its shell will do if placed in the blady microwave. It exploded!! I recall this night I casually was watching television with dad when we heard one almighty explosion. Dad went rushing through to discover smashed egg all over the inside of the microwave. I recall he was super, super angry and I was so casual – “ahh dad what’s a bit of egg”. That night I do recall dad tidying it up. Clearly, I was in no state to blow up an egg and then tidy away the evidence before God forbid my mom found it.
The last tale I will share for today was the Easter weekend. Alex and I once again went joling. Our favourite haunt was The Cattleman and Fat Franks. Gosh I remember we would walk in, remember I mentioned how gorgeous Alex was (is). So, we (she) would make her grand entrance into the establishment and you could literally see the guys staring at her. On the rare occasion they would stare at me and then start up a conversation with me. I would be super chuffed, until they got to why they had started the conversation in the first place. To ask what my friends name was!
Being the Easter weekend, I recall not all the places were open. But wherever we had been we had partied as usual. I think we were pub crawling that night. (Bit vague) anyhow we ended up at the Holiday Inn that is now an old age home next to the ice rink in Durban. As it was Easter there was a display in the reception area and in this display was a cute, fluffy live bunny.
The next morning I was woken by mom calling me through – “Alex was on the phone”.
“Hey friend what’s up?” (No NOT whats app!) to which she replied “Why the heck is there a bunny in my bedroom?”
Yip the night before after a glass too many we decided the bunny needed a new home! That bunny lived a happy and healthy life from that Sunday mid-morning at the local Animal farm that was across from where Suncoast is now.
And that dear reader is a wrap, again I apologise for the tardiness in my timing of this weekly (ha! weekly my bum in a drum!) but I truly always find myself so busy, what with work and everyday life. So what I am going to do – going forward I will try my utmost the write and publish EVERY week. At this stage I don’t want to promise a specific day, so when it is written I will do as I already do, I will place a notice on Facebook on my page as well as (gosh aren’t I stating the blady obvious here!) On Dizabeth’s page.
Take care, stay safe and healthy my lovelies until next week.
Mwah mwah
PS: I also want to apologise for any grammar and spelling errors you may spot – I read, re-read – check – double check and sometimes because I have read through it so often, I honestly don’t see the wood for the trees – and this is when the blady weeds (errors) sprout. So, I am truly sorry going forward for any mistook but I do love you all dearly.