Friday 6th December

D-Day.

The sky is always brighter on break-up days. The turtle doves call louder than usual and there is a strange feeling of harmony that fills the school and everyone in it. Even the final assembly is a celebration rather than a horror.

The Glock gave out a record amount of ties, badges, blazers, certificates and did a lot of general handshaking. In fact he gives out so many awards that if you don’t get one you feel like a complete loser. When he announced our new housemaster for 1992 Rambo’s head sank into his hands, Fatty looked terrified, while Boggo shook his head like he had just been dealt a killer blow. Simon looked grim and Vern looked utterly crazy with one hand on his head and his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth like Blacky. For once I was the only one smiling.

Our new housemaster is Viking.

God help all of us.

After saying goodbye to the Crazy Eight and the Sad Six, I packed up the last of my things and ran down to The Guv’s house to say goodbye. He was listening to loud classical music and striding around his lounge conducting the music with wild swishes of his walking stick. ‘Beethoven, Milton!’ he shouted over the loud din. ‘Sheer majesty and grandeur! A celebration of life and genius.’ He turned the music down before rounding on me with his stick. ‘I suppose you’ve come to say your goodbyes, young Milton?’ I nodded and wished my English teacher a Happy Christmas but his thoughts were already elsewhere.

‘Does time fly for someone of your age?’ I held up my diary to him and said, ‘One year, sir.’ He grinned and said, ‘Aah, your true account lest he returning chide.’ Without missing a beat I replied, ‘On his blindness, sir.’ The Guv chuckled before announcing that ‘in the land of the blind the one-eyed man is king.’ I couldn’t help laughing at The Guv glaring at me over his spectacles with one eye. He then shouted, ‘Exit!’ I turned to him and shouted back, ‘Pursued by a bear!’ I left by the kitchen door to the sound of Beethoven winding up again in the lounge.

Dad arrived in a foul mood. He said the station wagon was out of whack and he’s just had the bloody thing serviced. Dad was wearing his blue Teesav shorts (pulled up way too high), slip-slops and a bright yellow T-shirt on which was written: Up the Banana Boys. I ordered my father not to get out of the car and nearly broke my back loading my trunk into the boot.

The engine took a few turns to catch. Dad shouted ‘Come on, you slut!’ just as Mrs Hall was making her way across the driveway. She shot a savage look at my father who then shouted, ‘You biscuit!’ before revving the engine like a drag racer. I pretended to be digging in my bag for a pencil and kept my head under the dashboard. Dad then put on the Carpenters tape way too loudly and I heard a loud chorus of laughter and the name Spud being shouted out. I kept hiding my head and counted down the seconds to my freedom.

TOWN HILL (THE END…)

It began with smoke pouring out of the bonnet. Dad said it wasn’t a problem and that the car did that from time to time. Next there was an ominous whine from somewhere beneath my seat. Dad put it down to the Carpenters rather than the car. The station wagon died with a massive shudder and the green machine staggered into the emergency lane. Dad smashed his hand onto the dashboard and then ripped out the Carpenters tape and hurled it into the fast lane of the freeway where it was immediately run over by a navy blue BMW.

We certainly weren’t on top of the world looking down on creation. More like halfway down Town Hill looking like a long walk home. (That’s when I realized that we’d broken down no more than a kilometre from where we’d broken down on the way up to school.) Dad sat dead still with his head on the steering wheel. He seemed to be muttering, ‘Not again,’ over and over to himself. I must admit this so called ‘coincidence’ all pointed to a sign from God. I have no clue what the sign meant but there had to be a good reason for the bizarre coincidence of breakdowns.

Dad and I bolted across the freeway and through some bushes on the other side. We followed a narrow road up a hill and found ourselves at the gates of the Town Hill Psychiatric Centre. Dad’s left eye was twitching and he spoke in a strangely high voice when he said, ‘You’d better hold the fort. I’ll go and find a phone and call your mother.’ He looked at me sadly for a moment and then pushed through the gate and loped up the pathway towards the entrance.

Dad approached a silver-haired man dressed in a long white coat standing at the bottom of the steps with a clipboard. I watched him hold out his hand to introduce himself and heard him shout, ‘I’ve just had a breakdown!’ The man nodded and made a note on his clipboard. Dad turned to me and shot me a thumbs up. I returned it with a double. Then the man in the long white coat put his arm around my father’s shoulders and led him slowly up the stairs.

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Books by John van de Ruit

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Spud the Madness Continues…

1991

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 767