About that girl

In early November 2019 I contemplated writing about a girl I met in 1962 ……… then got distracted. Now, back on track, I’ll tell you a little bit about her. She was 15 years old then and had the best legs ever, perfectly presented on high heeled shoes that then - as now - she walked on better than anyone I had ever seen - or have seen since. She had long, dark and shiny auburn hair, and an air of mystery about her that she has retained until today - a trait that firmly set its hooks in me then, and which has kept me on the line all these years.

I first noticed her all those years ago walking up the aisle to communion at the Monastery in Pretoria, and if faith is about a vision, then that was the one that kept me going back to Mass week after week.

Getting to meet her was a different matter, and I employed all manner of schoolboy subterfuge to get common friends to set up a meeting. Probably the toughest thing to come to terms with was the fact that she had no clue whatsoever who I was, and according to her, beyond a piqued interest regarding who this potential suitor might be, no real desire whatsoever to meet me.

Leaving Cape Town on the SA Oranje - December 1968

Crossing the equator

 Suffice to say that the meeting was eventually set up in a manner of sorts with both of us being invited to a party at the home of a mutual friend, Gail van Niekerk (immediately adjacent to the Magnolia Dell entrance to Boys High School). There, we shyly got to know each other despite every effort by one of my cousins and a few friends who were aware of the arranged tryst to convert it into a night of debauchery.

The relationship was touch and go for about a year - on and off - but I never gave up, and eventually we slipped into “itemship” in the eyes of friends and family ………….. but most importantly, I felt it, and remember till this day the first time I kissed her. (In Lawrence Durrell's words from Justine ...... "Kisses so amateurish they resembled an early form of printing").

With puppy 'Hastings' - 1971 - a much treasured gift from Carl and Pan Awsumb

The next 4 years were pretty rough in terms of my family relationships - some ‘not very nice’ things happened which I suspect most people would have walked away from at a moment’s notice, but this young woman stuck by me through all of it, and one way and another we formed a partnership that has so far lasted 58 years.

Through all of the ups and downs she has never wavered and borne us three amazing children …………. quietly establishing herself as Matriarch within our little herd, and for the last twenty years or so being the ‘forever on standby’ Grandmother to our seven grandchildren ..........  sorry only I know that she could not have been more on hand for Isabella and Benjamin in Australia.

Swaziland 1969

I have been extremely fortunate to witness her stages of ageing from beautiful young woman through to ragged old age ……… all as a result of the ravages of her battle with cancer and seven months of chemotherapy in 2003. 

I recall that in September of that year, weighing just 39 kilograms she looked like an 85 year-old woman, and there were regular moments when I thought that she wasn’t going to make it. But she is a strong-minded woman, and when she put her mind to getting better there was nothing that was going to stop her …………. helped here and there by the most unlikely of sources, chief amongst which was our daughter Chavane who never lost her sense of humour regarding Pat’s illness - taking her shopping in the childrens’ sections of the various department stores because that was the only place they could find anything that might fit, and always remaining cheerful and totally honest about her mother’s appearance in a very “Monty Python” manner.

The other source was my cousin Lynda and husband Rob, and we will be forever grateful to them. They more or less made their beautiful apartment in Green Point a sort of open house stop-over for us on those weekly mornings when there was a good five to six hour wait between the taking of ‘bloods’ at around 6am at Groote Schuur and the results that would determine that week’s chemo dosage at around one or two pm in the afternoon. These were mornings of often scintillating conversation, music appreciation, political discourse and just ‘being there’. Pat was really only ‘human’ for half a day each week ………… the morning of the chemo ‘hit’ - so they fortunately did get to see her at her best (sic!)…………. for the rest of the time it was a thirty five week roller coaster ride.

After the chemo (usually on a Tuesday), we would begin the drive back to Capri with Pat slowly fading into her own private oblivion on the way. Once home, getting her 39kg’s into bed was a piece of cake, and I would then prep myself a steak or something equally solid for dinner - she would sleep. Next day she was a Zombie ……….. it was get up, shower, brush teeth and back into bed. No food ………. perhaps just a little juice. Next day again ……… Zombie ……. but I would at least be able to get a little (I mean little), food into her. That would bring us to Friday, and only half-Zombie. Able to sit up and watch a bit of TV ……….. eat a little ……. drink a little …….. sleep.

Saturday ………… Wow! On Saturday, and again on Sunday I was able to get her out of bed - maybe out into the garden ………… and with a bit of luck, perhaps a very short trip down to the Mall ………….. but most importantly, get a little ‘real’ food into her.

Monday she would be almost human - taking at least a little interest in what she would wear, putting on a little make-up, read a bit here and there, and eat. Good.

Then Tuesday we would be up at five again and off to Oncology at Groote Schuur, and the  whole dang thing would start all over again.

That September we decided to drive up to Malgas for Bengt and Sheralynn’s wedding, leaving on the Friday and coming back Sunday. On the way home I really believed she wasn’t going to make it, and on Tuesday told the doctors that I believed it was the chemo and not the cancer that was killing her. They immediately took steps to reduce the dosage, and the rest is history. Recovery was slow, but well measured, and as time passed she reverted back to her own image of self, and I became very fortunate thereafter to always have with me the very best looking woman in her age group ………….. right up until today.

As said - I have seen her much older than she is now, so I have little or nothing to fear. She has an energy that quite literally exhausts me, and I luckily get a little glimpse here and there of that stunning fifteen year-old with the auburn hair, great legs and high-heeled shoes.

Those of you that know her know what I am talking about ……….. I really am a very lucky guy.

Glastonbury 1970