Childhood memories

I am from drive-ins and roller-rinks, from Pro-Nutro and Milo before bed.

I am from a house with a swimming pool, a huge lawned-garden and kids’ laughter in the afternoon sunshine.

I am from the stinkwoods, blackwoods and pines, the Proteas and ‘Fynbos’ of the Southern Cape.

I am from the Scotsman that jumped ship and the German mercenaries sent to colonise the Eastern Cape, from Granny and Grandpa Fife and Ouma Meyer.

I am from the quiet father who loves rugby and listening to classical music on a Sunday morning and the energetic mother who loves to talk and drink coffee.

From 8 o’clock bedtimes and secret tree-houses in the forest.

I’m from the Garden Route of Africa, summer ‘braais’ and Ma’s Sunday roasts.

I’m from the grandparents that met during the second World War, the Italian immigrants who couldn’t speak English and the Oupa that I never knew.

I am from the shoe-box of black and white memories, the evening slide shows and the 16mm films watched on a white sheet.

So I thought I’d write something nice for a change. The words are my own, but the idea came from another blog. Make sure you read “Robbie’s Ruminations“.

Chat soon,
Del