Saturday 16th March

We demolished St Christopher’s by eight wickets and continued our unbeaten run. My folks didn’t come up to watch us play – so no horror stories for this weekend.

16:00 I put my name down for the St Joan’s second year social next Saturday. Boggo has opened sex betting and the Crazy Eight are all going. (Except for Roger.)

Sunday 17th March

AFRICAN AFFAIRS: ‘THE THIRD FORCE’

Lennox invited a man from the Struggle to address the meeting. His name was Baba Nangu. (He started off by saying that he wasn’t directly related to the small town called Babanango in Zululand, although he had sampled a few of the town’s womenfolk.) Baba Nangu was a short, wiry guy in his forties and was a local ANC comrade. He had a wonderful smiling face and drank coffee by the cupful while smoking a cigarette wrapped in a banana leaf. He told us some funny stories about growing up in the location just outside Richmond and his early days as a freedom fighter. We gathered close to the fire, all eight of us sitting on blankets, while Baba Nangu held court with some amazing stories.

Linton Austin asked Baba Nangu what his economic policies were. Baba Nangu laughed like a bear and said, ‘My friend, we need to stop the human disease in this country before we talk about money.’ Linton looked disappointed and took no further part in the discussion. Gerald then made another blunder by telling Baba Nangu that the government would never sponsor the IFP to kill ANC members. Baba Nangu paused a moment and then asked Gerald where he lived and what his sources were. Gerald blushed bright red and admitted that he lived in Houghton in Johannesburg and that his source was the SABC news. Even Mr Lennox roared with laughter and poor Gerald sank low into his chair and hid his face behind his coffee mug for the rest of the meeting.

Then Baba Nangu fell silent before shaking his head sadly and saying, ‘A Zulu doesn’t need an invitation to fight.’ He shook his head and made a clicking sound. Eventually, Lennox had to stop our guest and his terrifying stories of murder and bloodshed and closed the meeting. We left the two of them deep in conversation lit by a roaring log fire.

Monday 18th March

Wombat called and accused me of stealing a case of her White Horse whisky. I told her I’d been at boarding school for two months and don’t drink whisky. She then called me a vermin, said she was phoning my headmaster, and hung up.

I called Mom immediately to tell her Wombat was harassing me at school. Mom told me not to worry about it. There was a terrible howl in the background, and then Mom said, ‘Oh for God’s sakes, not again!’ Turns out Dad’s erecting an electric fence around our property and had just electrocuted himself for the fourth time in ten minutes. Mom said she refuses to be sympathetic because the fencing people offered to put up the fence free of charge. Apparently, Dad gave them an ‘over my dead body’. Which, according to Mom, may just be an accurate prediction.

I returned from lunch to find the prefects turning my cubicle upside down. Anderson was rifling through the drawers under my bed, Emberton was pulling things out of my footlocker and Julian was inspecting my underpants. The Crazy Eight had all gathered around like rubber-neckers at a car accident. Death Breath wouldn’t let me near my bed and said they were investigating a report of theft.

My heart sank. So my wonderful grandmother had really called The Glock!

I called Mom and gave her the number for the Town Hill Mental Asylum in case she needed it.

Tuesday 19th March

Looks like Vern has made friends with Runt and two of the Darryls. They all followed Vern around on his afternoon bog inspections. Apparently the third Darryl is too homesick to leave the dormitory.

Julian told me that he is directing the House Play next term and that he wants me to ‘study up’ in the holidays for a leading role. I asked him what play we were doing. He didn’t say but said it would most probably be a classic.

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 571