Back to Oakhaven

Mrs Boniface is coming back from her visit to the schloss of Herr Mann unaware that work on the new housing estate has already started. As Farmer Braithwaite drives her back in his Bentley, she is planning her next twelve months social and cultural events. They do not include newcomers to the village of Oakhaven, well perhaps one or two people of sufficient social and intellectual standing. She is also in a hurry in case the new Vicar does not understand how she arranges flowers to complement the readings and the sermon. He might be influence by that Mrs Jackson, for instance.

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Back to the city

Well, I've told you about going to the bushveldt. I was brought up in Glasgow but in the eddge of the suburbs where it was a child's walk to play at the Molindiner and I've always been happier in the country but it was too good to last - in two years we were back to Johannesburg and with our friends from our first posting. We rented a house at first with nice neighbours but unfortunately at the head of a T-junction and woke at night when it sounded as if someone was going to miss the turning and land up in our bedroom. We made friends with the neighbours and, of course, were back at the sailing club. After a few months we started to build our own house, a lovely bungalow at the head of  cul-de-sac, where we felt secure. I became involved in one or two clubs and enjoyed the social life but we were in the mining industry so ....

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Tin is where you find it

Yes, until SD was given the chance of running a tin mine. They say tin is where you find it, well, this was as fasr into the veldt as the copper mine had been, only it was in the bushveldt, all lush and green, with honey birds that hovered at the blossom. The company built pools for senior staff but water was scarce in the bush and we were given a barbeque instead, or maybe it was new carpets. We had a lovely time and met some really interesting people, The man next door was collecting the lead cover on wine bottles for a keel for a keelboat he intended to build so the social life was full of interest. We made friends and played tennis. There was a hotel on the property so I didn't have to do much catering and could just relax and join in the fun. SD insists on having a picture of me. For this, which us concerned with us nomading around, it should be one where we're busy packing or unpacking but he likes this one.

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New friends

As well as our friends, Johannesburg had good shops but with one thing and another we had to move again, out to the coal mines where Winston Churchill jumped on a train at Witbank - a strange name for a coal mining area full of burning dumps and underground fires in old mines sending sulphur fumes into the air. We lived in town for a while but then moved to a lovely house in the mine village. There were no old friends, so we just mucked in and made some new ones. I did a bit of catering while SD ran his mine and in no time we became part of the scene, until...

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Dad knows best

We stayed three years in Johannesburg but in that time we had two houses. The children changed school and our son was placed in the practical stream. I think I was more upset than SD, who, despite getting a degree had started in woodwork rather than Latin. He said woodwork taught him to finish things; until you had glued the pieces together a box was just a few scraps of timber. We went to see the headmaster and he told us his three boys were deliberately in the practical stream. The professionals he knew worked long hours and were never home; the fathers who drove their children to school in Mercedes cars were electricians and plumbers.  He got his boys together now and then and asked each one what he wanted to be. If the first said he thought maybe he'd like to be a lawyer, the headmaster  told him - You've been talking to Hymie again, what are you going to be? - A plumber Dad - And you? - A plumber Dad - And you? - A plumber Dad.
I found a picture that is the real mining South Africa not the Garden Route and thought I'd show it.

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Pack our bags and go.

After a couple of years in the South African wilderness, with the children in boarding school, we moved north to Rustenburg, green and fertile. The children adapted well to school and we had just settled in and I was enjoying a bit of golf when the price of platinum fell and all those who had trekked in on the boom, trekked out again. The mining business is always uncertain but that place was like traffic lights. Some had made those moves several times and the most far sighted businessman was an old employee who bought a removal van. We moved to Johannesburg, beds, books and cats. There was a bit of a silver lining because my manager's wife friend was also in Johannesburg and we had Christmas with them and their family, grannies, grandads, uncles and aunts under the trees at the side of the pool.

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Settling in semi desert

We left Kimberley in fairly good spirits but as we travelled along the dirt roads the trees disappeared, rather quickly, and the bushes became smaller and smaller and further apart. Inside the car it was hot and the windows were down for a bit but the dust, or at least it's smell got in .As we went along the children grew quiet and SD and I spoke less and less. We eventually got to the mine and SD dashed into the offices . He came out after a while and said we were to follow the manager who would put us up for the night. 'We're not living here the rest of us said. 'Let's get to his house and sleep on it,' he said. I couldn't believe the change when we walked into the manager's bungalow. His wife looked cool despite dealing with a baby. The furniture was pale blue and I could relax a bit. It didn't look so bad in the morning but, nevertheless, I was not amused. How did it turn out? We've been friends with the manager's family for more than forty years.

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