Wheildon

our cottage on the market square was in just in the right position to see action of every kind. we never knew what to expect next.

mum and dad came from st. francis bay to stay for a week. mum was out walking kate in her pram and dad, a retired attorney of the ultra conservative kind, was reading the news paper in the lounge. ginny and i were in the throws of clearing away the breakfast debris when the front door rattled on it's hinges. it was a local lass who was in the habit of walking through a door before opening it. we were in no doubt as to who had arrived.

Our visitor had been sporting massive breasts all her life and was tired of carrying them around. she had told ginny that she was going to have something done about it, and had arrived to show off her new boobs. thrilled at having had them reduced, she had burst in thinking that we were alone in the cottage. without further ado, she hoisted up her T shirt to reveal a substantial pair which pointed directly at my father. The lady happily launched into a description of how the procedure had been carried out, still unaware of the fact that it was my father behind the news paper. he in the meantime had glanced up to see a half naked woman wobbling about in front of him. an anguished cry alerted ginny to his discomfort and she hastily marched our visitor into another room to complete the inspection.

my father was quite overcome, and left immediately with hat and stick for a long walk. when he returned, he poked his head around every corner to make sure that there were no half clad women wandering around our cottage.

typical of my dad, nothing was said about the incident. however, every time there was a knock on the door, or a loud ''helloooo'', my father fled to the safety of his room, returning with caution some time later.

we employed an old gardener called andries. he was a colourful old gent and enjoyed a good yarn. after we had lived in the village for some months i decided that he should have all my city trappings, suits, ties and shoes. these were items that were quite out of place in greyton. andries could not believe his good fortune. there was so much clobber that we had to load up our old beach buggy and chug up the shocking track to bosmanskloof where he lived. here my city wardrobe was carefully carried inside his humble home and there was much hand shaking and waving as we left.

the next day my dear friend godfrey jones died. he had been unwell for some time. dorothy his wife, called and asked if i would be a pall bearer at the funeral. i readily agreed. ginny asked what i was going to wear as i had parted with all my formal clothes the day before. no problem. i leaped into the beach buggy and went to visit my gardner andries in bosmanskloof. he heard the beach buggy approaching, and as his house came into view i saw him enter and close his front door. by the time i knocked there appeared to be no sign of life and all was dead quiet. i knocked again and waited. eventually the door opened a crack and a ''ja??" came from within.

i explained the grave situation to my gardener and asked if i might borrow my three piece pinstripe suit, old boys tie and smart leather shoes back for the funeral.

there was silence for a moment. i was about to repeat myself when his reply came from within.

evidently his father had told him that there are some things that one does not lend. his wife and car i could hear, but the rest of his father's advice was lost on me behind the closed door. i gathered that my clothes fell into the same category.

ginny was highly amused at my having been sent packing empty handed. dorothy was equally amused and assured me that godfrey would have been too.

the little anglican church was filled to capacity on the day of the funeral. the whole village turned out to bid godfrey farewell. five pallbearers were dressed in dark suits, the sixth was not.

as we filed out of the church, i passed a smartly dressed gentleman standing at the door. he wore a three piece suit, my old school tie and a mighty smart pair of leather shoes polished to perfection.