Chapter 8
Being confident of myself in most athletic movements led to embarrassing incidents. Trams to Kloof Nek were infrequent, and as I came out of the railway station I saw one ahead in Adderley Street. They travelled on lines in the middle of the road, and I dashed across after it, just too late to catch it at the stop, but managed to get one hand onto the railing - and was dragged a few yards till the conductor managed to ring his bell madly and the driver stopped. I climbed aboard somewhat shaken and chastened, and received a verbal dressing-down from the conductor. I felt an awful fool. Later I became adept at stepping on and off trolley buses and trams while they were in motion. Hot summer evenings linger in memory. At home, all quietly reading or playing cards together - we all played bridge now as well as the rowdier card games - the ring of the ice cream cart alerted us, and particularly Bink, who loved ice cream and raced out with whoever ran to buy the tickey ice creams. We had choice of flavour: chocolate, coffee, strawberry or vanilla, but no fancy shapes, as all the ice creams were rectangular between two wafers. Dad had investigated hygienic procedures at both the Al and Velvet factories before he allowed us to buy their products. Other evenings, with many friends, we had supper picnics under the full moon on Signal Hill or on a beach at Camps Bay or Clifton. During my three years at University the family held frequent discussions about my future, and alone in my bedroom I spent planning and dreaming periods perched comfortably on the high embrasure of my bedroom window - an ideal place to sit and contemplate the future. I didn�t want to teach, but didn�t know what I did want to do. We considered many ideas: hairdressing? Froebel training? Hospital Almoner? and many other ideas were discussed and discarded. I had long given up my idea of being a medical missionary, and Dad was discouraging about nursing as a career as he thought it was a very hard life. My interest in languages persisted, and eventually it was decided that I would follow Anne Parker and go as a paying guest to the Helly family in Grenoble, and would follow her sister Jean (now Secretary to the Mayor of Cape Town) at St James� Secretarial College in London. Dad and Mother planned to accompany me, and our passages were booked to England in December. We wrote our end of year UCT exams in Rosebank Show Grounds in corrugated iron �sheds� in appalling heat. Building went on during all my time at UCT, and by the time of my graduation Jameson Hall had been completed and was in use. And so, finally scraping through everything, I was capped at the formal graduation ceremony. ~~***~~ |
