In memory of my Dad…

A little girl needs Daddy

For many, many things:

Like holding her high off the ground

Where the sunlight sings!

Like being the deep music

That tells her all is right

When she awakens frantic with

The terrors of the night.

Like being the great mountain

That rises in her heart

And shows her how she might get home

When all else falls apart.

Like giving her the love

That is her sea and air,

So diving deep or soaring high

She'll always find him there

Our childhood was filled with many outdoor adventures. I remember Dad waking up early every weekend and calling

harbour masters and weather men and anyone else in the know to find out the weather and sea conditions right around

False bay. When he had all the answers, we then knew where we were going for the day.

We all packed our goodies and met the rest of the group at the chosen place. Many Sundays the four cousins: Lesley,

Penny, Cameron and myself spent the day running on the beach, playing games, climbing over rocks, finding little fish or

crabs in rock pools and jumping from rock to rock all day.

Depending on the chosen spot, we also shared the lunchtime queue with baboons while Mum and Aunty Jean handed

out our rolls, chaos erupting once they noticed a few extra hairy guests in the queue - all part of our weekend

experiences. While all the fun was going on we always had one eye on the sea, watching for Dad and Uncle Bruce and

the others to pop up every now and again to put crayfish into the tube and we were always there to greet the Dads as

they came out of the water.

Those were days filled with fun and sunshine and the best of memories. I can't think of anything better than growing up

in the fresh sea air, basking in sunshine and always having the best of friends to play with all day long, ending the

afternoons often with the much anticipated ice cream in Gordon's Bay - even our dog, Tessa had to have her own ice

cream - Les and I insisted on it and Dad indulged us, and of course Tessa.

If it wasn't crayfishing, we spent the day waiting for Dad to return from the sea with the fish he promised to bring home

for dinner before he left - Mum usually prepared something for dinner anyway - just in case. As we got older we were

introduced to boat washing and Lesley and I took this job very seriously as girls would, cleaning every little corner and

crack with girlish pride. Certain trips, especially the mackerel or snoek run meant that we would be cleaning for hours.

Besides cleaning boats, Dad taught us how to clean fish and he tried to teach us how to clean all sorts of other animals

that were brought home from many hunting trips, but we turned that learning experience down - fish was about our limit.

Dad had an incredible talent for drawing and I can remember Lesley and I sitting with Dad in the evenings, handing him

a piece of paper and nagging him to draw us one of his infamous crazy creatures. He would combine the head of one

animal with the body of another and finish it all off with the legs of another. We loved it, we couldn't wait to see what he

would come up with next and then the finishing touch: he would name them all. I can only remember one of them

unfortunately: The Hippocroccoduck - one of our favourites. I wish we had kept the book he drew all these creatures in…

After a long hard day at work, Dad would love to arrive home to find that Mum had prepared him a snack (he loved his

bacon strips amongst others) and he would savour this snack and we would all listen to his stories of his day.

Having girls also meant that Dad was spoilt with another of his favourite things: back-tickles and head massages. We

always ended up having a good giggle as Dad dozed off we would take out our hair accessories and created fantastic

hairdo's for him, from pigtales to tiny plaits. We would wake him up and show him "the do" in a mirror and we always

giggled as Dad sat there sleepy and exhausted after his day at work with little pigtails all over his head. Not quite the

image anyone would want the guys at work to see, but I am sure all Dads do the same thing!

A few evenings Dad was greeted with my latest baking experiment, whether round had turned out square or risen or

had fallen flat, he tasted everything. Goodness knows what he was thinking, but he always tasted everything I made.

One memory that stands out is that our home was filled with Dad's laughter. He and Mum would always have

something to laugh about and he would laugh until the tears rolled and his face went all red and he struggled to catch his

breathe. They always found something to laugh about. I can still hear his laughter and his amazing, often exaggerated

stories.

Every year, Dad and Mum and Les and I spent our annual holiday in Plettenberg Bay. It was of course filled with lots of

fishing and fun. Dad would wake us up at ungodly hours to go fishing and then after breakfast we went prawn gathering

and then it was more fishing! We never sat still and Mum did spend hours waist-deep in the lagoon fishing with Dad. As

we got older, Les and I spend hours tanning and Mum and Dad still fished - it was what they loved.

Every holiday was special.

…………continued on the next page